Sense and Sensibility by Jane Austen, modernized by Asa Montreaux
The Dashwood family had lived in Sussex for a long time. Their estate was large, and their home was at Norland Park, in the middle of their property. For many generations, they had lived in a very respectable way, earning the approval of their neighbors. The previous owner of this estate was a single man who lived to an advanced age and for many years had a constant companion and housekeeper. But the death of his sister, ten years earlier, brought about a significant change in his home. To fill the empty space, he invited and accepted the family of his nephew, Mr. Henry Dashwood, the legal heir to the Norland estate and the person he intended to leave it to.
In the company of his nephew and niece, and their children, the old Gentleman spent his days comfortably. His attachment to them all grew stronger. The constant attention of Mr. and Mrs. Henry Dashwood, which stemmed not just from interest but from genuine kindness, provided him with all the comfort his age could receive. The cheerfulness of the children added a delight to his life.
Mr. Henry Dashwood had one son from a previous marriage: three daughters from his current wife. The son was a steady and respectable young man, well provided for by his mother's large fortune, half of which passed to him upon his coming of age. He also added to his wealth through his own marriage. So, the succession to the Norland estate was not as important to him as it was to his sisters; their fortune, independent of what might arise from their father's inheritance, was quite small. Their mother had nothing, and their father only had seven thousand pounds in his own disposal, as the remaining portion of his first wife's fortune was secured to her child, and he had only a life-interest in it.
The old gentleman died. His will was read, and like most wills, it brought as much disappointment as pleasure. He was neither so unjust nor so ungrateful as to leave his estate solely to his nephew, but he left it to him on such terms that they significantly reduced its value. Mr. Dashwood had wished for it more for the sake of his wife and daughters than for himself or his son. However, to his son and his son’s son, a four-year-old child, it was secured in a way that left him with no power to provide for those he loved most and who needed provisions, either through charging the estate or selling its valuable woods. The entire estate was tied up for the benefit of this child, who, during occasional visits with his father and mother at Norland, had gradually gained their affection through such innocent attractions as are quite common in young children – imperfect speech, a strong desire to do things his own way, many playful tricks, and a great deal of noise. He did not intend to be unkind, however, and as a sign of affection for his three girls, he left them a thousand pounds each.
Mr. Dashwood's disappointment was initially severe, but his temper was cheerful and optimistic. He might reasonably hope to live many years and, by living economically, amass a considerable sum from the already large estate, which was capable of immediate improvement. However, the fortune, which had been so long delayed, was all he had for a year. He survived his uncle for a short time, and ten thousand pounds, including the late legacies, was all that remained for his widow and daughters.
His son was summoned as soon as his health declined, and Mr. Dashwood recommended to him with all the strength of his illness the interest of his mother-in-law and sisters.
Mr. John Dashwood did not possess the strong feelings of the rest of the family, but he was affected by the recommendation of such a nature at such a time, and promised to do everything in his power to make them comfortable. His father was comforted by this assurance, and Mr. John Dashwood had then the opportunity to consider how much he might reasonably do for them.
He wasn't a bad person, unless you consider being somewhat cold-hearted and selfish as bad. But generally, he was well-respected because he behaved appropriately in his daily life. If he had married a kinder woman, he could have been even more respected, maybe even become kinder himself. He was very young when he married and very much in love with his wife. But Mrs. John Dashwood was an exaggerated version of him—even more narrow-minded and selfish.
When he promised his father to help his stepmother and half-sisters, he actually intended to give them a thousand pounds each. He really thought he could afford it. The idea of four thousand a year, plus his existing income and his remaining inheritance from his mother, excited him and made him feel generous. "Yes, he would give them three thousand pounds! It would be generous and impressive! It would be enough to make them comfortable. Three thousand pounds! He could easily spare that much." He thought about it all day long for several days and didn't change his mind.
But as soon as his father's funeral was over, Mrs. John Dashwood arrived with her child and servants, without telling her mother-in-law she was coming. No one could argue that she didn't have the right to come; the house belonged to her husband from the moment his father died. But her insensitive behavior was even worse because of it, and it must have been very upsetting to Mrs. Dashwood. Mrs. Dashwood had such a strong sense of honor and generosity that any offense like this, no matter who gave or received it, filled her with disgust. Mrs. John Dashwood had never been liked by her husband's family, but she hadn't had a chance until now to show how little she cared about other people's comfort when she wanted something.
Mrs. Dashwood was so offended by her daughter-in-law's behavior and despised her so much for it that she would have left the house forever when she arrived if her oldest daughter hadn't begged her to think about it first. Her love for her three children then convinced her to stay and avoid a conflict with their brother for their sake.
Elinor, the oldest daughter, whose advice was so effective, was only nineteen but had a strong mind and good judgment. This made her a wise counselor for her mother and often helped them all by counteracting Mrs. Dashwood's impulsiveness, which usually led to bad decisions. Elinor was kind and affectionate and had strong feelings, but she knew how to control them. Her mother hadn't learned this yet, and one of her sisters was determined never to learn it.
Marianne was just as capable as Elinor in many ways. She was smart and clever but passionate about everything. She felt everything intensely, with no moderation. She was generous, likable, and interesting but not prudent. She was very similar to her mother.
Elinor was concerned about her sister's extreme sensitivity, but Mrs. Dashwood valued and encouraged it. They reinforced each other's intense grief, voluntarily renewing it and seeking it out again and again. They completely surrendered to their sorrow, seeking anything that could make them feel worse and refusing to be comforted. Elinor was also deeply saddened, but she could still cope and take action. She could talk to her brother, greet her sister-in-law properly, try to encourage her mother, and urge her to be patient.
Margaret, the youngest sister, was good-humored and well-meaning. But she had already absorbed a lot of Marianne's romanticism without having much of her intelligence. At thirteen, she didn't seem likely to be as accomplished as her sisters.
Chapter II
Mrs. John Dashwood was now the lady of Norland, and her stepmother and half-sisters were treated like visitors. However, she treated them with polite civility, and her husband treated them as kindly as he could treat anyone besides his wife and child. He sincerely urged them to consider Norland their home, and because Mrs. Dashwood thought staying there until she could find a house nearby was the best plan, she accepted his invitation.
Staying in a place that reminded her of former happiness was exactly what she wanted. When she was cheerful, no one could be more cheerful or more optimistic about happiness. But when she was sad, she would be just as consumed by her imagination and as far beyond consolation as she was beyond worry when she was happy.
Mrs. John Dashwood didn't approve of her husband's plan to help his sisters. Taking three thousand pounds from her dear little boy's fortune would impoverish him terribly. She begged him to reconsider. How could he justify robbing his child, his only child, of such a large amount? And why should the Miss Dashwoods, who were only related to him by half-blood, which she considered no relationship at all, have any claim on his generosity to such a large extent? Everyone knew that stepchildren never cared about each other. Why should he ruin himself and their poor little Harry by giving away all his money to his half-sisters?
"It was my father's last request," her husband replied, "that I should help his widow and daughters."
"He didn't know what he was talking about. He was probably light-headed. If he had been thinking clearly, he wouldn't have asked you to give away half your fortune from your own child."
"He didn't name any specific amount, Fanny. He just asked me to help them and make their situation more comfortable than he could. Maybe it would have been better if he had left it up to me. He probably thought I wouldn't neglect them. But since he asked for the promise, I had to give it. I have to do something for them when they leave Norland and settle in a new home."
"Well, do something for them, but it doesn't have to be three thousand pounds. Remember that once the money is gone, it can never come back. Your sisters will get married, and it will be gone forever. If it could be returned to our poor little boy—"
"Of course," her husband said gravely, "that would make a big difference. Someday Harry might regret giving away such a large sum. If he has a large family, it would be very useful."
"Exactly."
"Maybe it would be better for everyone if we gave them half that much. Five hundred pounds would greatly increase their fortunes!"
"Oh! That's beyond generous! What brother would do half that much for his sisters, even if they were his real sisters! And they're only half-blood! You're so generous!"
"I don't want to be mean," he replied. "It's better to do too much than too little. No one can say I haven't done enough for them. Even they can't expect more."
"There's no telling what they expect," she said, "but we shouldn't think about that. The question is, what can you afford to do?"
"I can afford to give them five hundred pounds each. Without my help, they'll each have about three thousand pounds when their mother dies. That's a comfortable fortune for any young woman."
"That's true, and it seems to me that they don't need any more at all. They'll have ten thousand pounds to divide among them. If they marry, they'll be fine, and if they don't, they can live comfortably together on the interest from ten thousand pounds."
"That's true, so maybe it would be better to do something for their mother while she's alive, like an annuity. My sisters would benefit from that too. A hundred a year would make them comfortable."
His wife hesitated.
"That's better than giving away fifteen hundred pounds at once. But if Mrs. Dashwood lives fifteen years, we'll be cheated."
"Fifteen years! She can't live that long."
"People live forever when they have an annuity. She's healthy and barely forty. An annuity is a serious commitment. It comes every year, and you can't get rid of it. You don't know what you're doing. My mother had three annuities to pay to old servants because of my father's will. She hated it. She had to pay them twice a year and get the money to them. One of them was said to be dead, but she wasn't. My mother was sick of it. She said her income wasn't her own because of those claims. It was unkind of my father because otherwise, she could have done anything she wanted with the money. I hate annuities. I wouldn't commit to one for anything."
"It's unpleasant to have those yearly drains on your income. You're right, your fortune isn't your own. Being tied to paying that amount every rent day isn't desirable. It takes away your independence."
"Exactly, and you get no thanks. They think they're entitled to it. You're only doing what's expected. There's no gratitude. If I were you, I would do whatever I wanted. I wouldn't commit to paying them anything yearly. It might be inconvenient to spare a hundred or even fifty pounds some years."
"You're right. It's better not to have an annuity. Whatever I give them occasionally will help them more than a yearly allowance because they'll just spend more if they know they'll get more money and won't be any richer at the end of the year. This is best. A gift of fifty pounds now and then will keep them from needing money, and I'll be keeping my promise to my father."
"Exactly. Your father didn't want you to give them any money. He just wanted you to help them in ways that you could reasonably be expected to, like helping them find a small house, helping them move, and sending them fish and game. He didn't mean anything more. It would be strange if he did. Think about how comfortable your stepmother and her daughters can live on the interest from seven thousand pounds, plus the thousand pounds that each of the girls has. They'll each get fifty pounds a year, and they'll pay their mother for room and board. They'll have five hundred a year among them. What do four women need more than that? They'll live cheaply. They won't have a carriage, horses, or servants. They won't socialize and won't have any expenses. They'll be comfortable! Five hundred a year! I don't know how they'll spend half of it. It's absurd to give them more. They'll be able to give you something."
"You're right. My father only meant what you said. I understand now, and I'll help them in the ways you described. When my mother moves, I'll help her as much as I can. A little furniture might be helpful too."
"Yes, but when your father and mother moved to Norland, all the china, silverware, and linen was saved from the sale and is now left to your mother. Her house will be furnished as soon as she takes it."
"That's important. That's valuable. Some of the silverware would have been a nice addition to our collection here."
"Yes, and their breakfast china is twice as nice as ours. Too nice for where they'll live. But your father only thought of them. You don't owe him gratitude or attention. We know he would have left everything to them if he could."
This argument was persuasive. It strengthened his resolve, and he decided that it was unnecessary and inappropriate to do more for his father's widow and children than the kind of neighborly things his wife had suggested.
Chapter III
Mrs. Dashwood settled at Norland for several months, not because she disliked moving when the familiar sights ceased to evoke the strong emotions it once did. However, once her spirits began to revive and she felt capable of other activities than dwelling on her sadness, she became impatient to leave. She was busy inquiring about suitable dwellings near Norland. But she could not find a place that met her notions of comfort and ease, and Elinor's prudence rejected several houses as too large for their income, which her mother would have approved.
"I cannot imagine how they will spend half of it," she said.
"I cannot imagine how they will spend half of it," she repeated.
Mrs. Dashwood had been informed by her husband of the solemn promise made by his son in their favor, which brought comfort to his last earthly reflections. She doubted the sincerity of this assurance not more than he had doubted it himself, and she thought of it for her daughters’ sake with satisfaction, though she was persuaded that a much smaller provision than seven thousand pounds would be sufficient to support her. For his brother's sake, too, and for his own heart, she rejoiced and reproached herself for having been unjust to his merit before, in believing him incapable of generosity. His attentive behavior toward her and his daughters convinced her that their welfare was dear to him, and for a long time, she firmly relied on his liberality.
The contempt she had felt for her daughter-in-law very early in their acquaintance was greatly increased by the further knowledge of her character gained during half a year of living with her family. Perhaps, despite any consideration of politeness or maternal affection on the part of the former, the two ladies might not have lived together so long had a particular circumstance not occurred to give even greater eligibility to her daughters' continued stay at Norland.
This circumstance was a growing affection between her eldest daughter and the brother of Mrs. John Dashwood, a gentlemanlike and pleasant young man who was introduced to their acquaintance soon after his sister’s establishment at Norland, and who had since spent the greatest part of his time there.
Some mothers might have encouraged the intimacy from motives of interest, as Edward Ferrars was the eldest son of a man who had died very wealthy. But many might have repressed it from motives of prudence, as only a small sum of his fortune depended on his mother’s will. However, Mrs. Dashwood was neither influenced by either consideration. It was enough for her that he appeared amiable, that he loved her daughter, and that Elinor reciprocated his feelings. She had no inclination to believe that difference in fortune should keep any couple apart who were attracted by shared dispositions. And that Elinor's merit should not be acknowledged by everyone who knew her was unthinkable to her.
Edward Ferrars was not recommended to their good opinion by any particular grace of person or address. He was not handsome, and his manners required intimacy to become pleasing. He was too diffident to do justice to himself, but when his natural shyness was overcome, his behavior gave every indication of an open and affectionate heart. His understanding was good, and his education had given it solid improvement. But he was neither equipped by ability nor disposition to meet the wishes of his mother and sister, who longed to see him distinguished as – they hardly knew what. They wanted him to make a fine figure in the world in some way. His mother wished to interest him in political matters, to get him into parliament, or to see him associated with some of the great men of the day. Mrs. John Dashwood wished it likewise, but until one of these superior blessings could be attained, her ambition to see him riding a barouche would be quieted. However, Edward had no interest in great men or barouches. All his wishes centered in domestic comfort and the quiet of private life. Fortunately, he had a younger brother who was more promising.
Edward had been staying in the house for several weeks before he garnered much of Mrs. Dashwood's attention, as she was at that time in such affliction that she was careless of surrounding objects. She only saw that he was quiet and unobtrusive, and liked him for that. He did not disturb her grief with ill-timed conversation. She was first urged to observe and approve him further by a reflection Elinor had one day made on the difference between him and his sister. This contrast recommended him most strongly to her mother.
"It is enough," she said; "to say that he is unlike Fanny is enough. It implies everything amiable. I love him already."
"I think you will like him," said Elinor, "when you know more about him."
"Like him!" replied her mother with a smile. "I feel no sentiment of approbation inferior to love. You may esteem him."
"I have never yet known what it was to separate esteem and love."
Mrs. Dashwood now took pains to get acquainted with him. Her manners were engaging, and soon banished his reserve. She quickly understood all his merits, perhaps the persuasion of his regard for Elinor helped her perception, but she really felt assured of his worth. And even that quietness of manner, which militated against all her established ideas of what a young man’s address ought to be, was no longer uninteresting when she knew his heart to be warm and his temper affectionate.
No sooner did she perceive any sign of love in his behavior toward Elinor than she considered their serious attachment as certain and looked forward to their marriage as approaching rapidly.
"In a few months," she said to Marianne, "Elinor will, in all probability be settled for life. We shall miss her, but she will be happy."
"Oh! Mamma, how shall we do without her?"
“My love, it will be scarcely a separation. We shall live within a few miles of each other and shall meet every day of our lives,” replied her mother, with a gentle smile. “You will gain a brother – a real, affectionate brother. I have the highest opinion in the world of Edward’s heart. But you look grave, Marianne; do you disapprove your sister’s choice?”
“Perhaps,” said Marianne, “I may consider it with some surprise. Edward is very amiable, and I love him tenderly. But yet – he is not the kind of young man; there is something wanting – his figure is not striking. His eyes want all that spirit, that fire, which at once announce virtue and intelligence. And besides all this, I am afraid, Mamma, that he has no real taste. Music seems scarcely to attract him, and though he admires Elinor’s drawings very much, it is not the admiration of a person who can understand their worth. It is evident, in spite of his frequent attention to her while she draws, that in fact he knows nothing of the matter. He admires as a lover, not as a connoisseur. To satisfy me, those characters must be united. I could not be happy with a man whose tastes did not coincide with my own. He must enter into all my feelings; the same books, the same music must charm us both. Yes, Mamma, it is a most unfortunate circumstance.”
“You are right, my love,” replied her mother, with a sigh. “It is a most unfortunate circumstance. But you must be content with the fact that he is a good man, and a kind one. He is a man of quiet pleasures, and a man of great sensibility. He is a man who will be a pleasure to have in our home.”
“Indeed,” said Marianne, “and I am certain that he will be a most agreeable companion. I have no doubt that he will be a most agreeable companion.”
“You are a good girl, Marianne,” said her mother, with a warm smile. “You have a good heart, and a good mind. You are a most agreeable companion.”
“I am grateful for your kindness, Mamma,” said Marianne, “and I am certain that you will be pleased with him.”
“You will be,” replied her mother, with a gentle nod. “You will be.”
So acutely did Mrs. Dashwood feel this ungracious behaviour, and so earnestly did she despise her daughter-in-law[9] for it, that, on the arrival of the latter, she would have quite quitted the house for ever, had not the entreaty of her eldest girl induced her afterwards to reflect on the propriety of going, and her own tender love for all her three children determined her afterwards to avoid a breach with their brother.
Elinor, this eldest daughter, whose advice was so effectual, possessed a strength of understanding, and coolness of judgment, which qualified her, though only nineteen years old, to be the counsellor of her mother, and enabled her frequently to counteract, to the advantage of them all, that eagerness of mind in Mrs. Dashwood which must generally have led to imprudence. She had an excellent heart; her disposition was affectionate, and her feelings were strong. But she knew how to govern them: it was a knowledge which her mother had yet to learn; and which one of her sisters had resolved never to be taught.
Marianne’s abilities were, in many respects, quite equal to Elinor’s. She was sensible and clever, but eager in everything. Her sorrows, her joys, could have no moderation. She was generous, amiable, interesting, and a most agreeable companion. She had an excellent heart, and a good mind. She was a most agreeable companion.
Margaret, the other sister, was a good-humored, well-disposed girl. But as she had already imbibed a good deal of the affection of her mother, and had already been taught to be agreeable, she did not, at thirteen, bid fair to equal her sisters at a more advanced period of life.
Chapter IV
"What a shame it is, Elinor," said Marianne, "that Edward doesn't appreciate drawing."
"Doesn't appreciate drawing!" replied Elinor. "Why do you say that? He doesn't draw himself, but he enjoys seeing other people's work. I assure you, he has a natural sense of taste, even if he hasn't had the chance to develop it. If he had the opportunity to learn, I think he would be very good. He's so unsure of his judgment in these things that he doesn't like to give his opinion on any picture. But he has an innate sense of what's right and simple, which usually guides him perfectly."
Marianne was afraid of offending Elinor and didn't say any more. However, the kind of approval Elinor described was far from the passionate delight that, in Marianne’s opinion, defined true taste. Although she smiled to herself at Elinor’s misjudgment, she admired her sister’s blind loyalty to Edward.
"I hope you don't think he lacks general taste, Marianne," Elinor continued. "I don't think you can, because you're always so friendly to him. If you really thought that, I'm sure you wouldn't be so nice."
Marianne wasn't sure what to say. She didn't want to hurt her sister, but she couldn't lie. Finally, she replied, "Don't be offended, Elinor, if I don't praise him as much as you do. You've had more chances to see the little details of his mind, his likes, and dislikes. But I think he's incredibly good and sensible. I think he's everything that's worthy and amiable."
"I'm sure his closest friends couldn't ask for higher praise," Elinor replied with a smile. "I don't see how you could be warmer in your commendation."
Marianne was glad to find her sister so easily pleased.
"No one who's talked to him freely can doubt his sense and goodness," Elinor continued. "Only his shyness can hide his excellent understanding and principles. You know him well enough to appreciate his true worth. But you haven't seen his smaller traits as much as I have because you've been so focused on Mom. We've spent time together, and I've studied his opinions on literature and taste. Overall, I think he's well-read, loves books, has a lively imagination, observes things accurately, and has delicate and pure taste. He gets better in every way as you get to know him, like his manners and appearance. He's not striking at first, and you can't really call him handsome until you notice his eyes, which are lovely, and his sweet expression. I know him so well now that I think he's really handsome, or almost. What do you think, Marianne?"
"I'll think he's handsome soon, Elinor, if I don't already. When you tell me to love him like a brother, I'll stop seeing any flaws in his face, just like I don't see any in his heart."
Elinor was taken aback by this and regretted her passionate defense of him. She knew she thought very highly of Edward and suspected he felt the same, but she wanted to be more certain before Marianne started imagining things. She knew that whatever Marianne and her mother guessed one moment, they believed the next, and that for them, to wish was to hope, and to hope was to expect. She tried to explain the situation to her sister.
"I'm not saying I don't think highly of him," she said, "that I don't greatly respect him, that I don't like him."
Marianne burst out in anger.
"Respect him! Like him! Cold-hearted Elinor! Worse than cold-hearted! Ashamed to feel more. Say those words again, and I'll leave the room right now."
Elinor couldn't help laughing. "Excuse me," she said. "I didn't mean to offend you by talking about my feelings so calmly. Believe me, they're stronger than I said. Believe me, they're as strong as his merit, and the suspicion, the hope, that he likes me can justify, without being foolish. But you can't believe more than that. I'm not sure he likes me. Sometimes I doubt it. Until I know how he feels, don't be surprised that I don't want to get my hopes up by thinking it's more than it is. In my heart, I hardly doubt that he prefers me. But there are other things to consider besides his feelings. He's not independent. We don't know what his mother is really like, but from what Fanny says about her, we don't think she's nice. I'd be surprised if Edward doesn't realize that he'd have problems if he wanted to marry a woman who wasn't rich or high-ranking."
Marianne was surprised to find that she and her mother had gotten ahead of themselves.
"So, you're really not engaged to him!" she said. "But it's sure to happen soon. But this delay will have two advantages: I won't lose you so soon, and Edward will have more chances to improve his natural taste for your favorite hobby, which is so important for your future happiness. Oh! If your genius inspires him to learn to draw, how wonderful that would be!"
Elinor had given her sister her honest opinion. She didn't think her feelings for Edward were as certain as Marianne believed. At times, he seemed down, which suggested something almost as bad as indifference. If he liked her but doubted she liked him back, that might worry him, but it wouldn't make him as sad as he often seemed. A more likely cause was his dependence, which prevented him from pursuing his affection. She knew his mother didn't make him comfortable at home and didn't assure him that he could start his own home without following her plans for his advancement. Knowing this, Elinor couldn't relax. She wasn't counting on him choosing her, as her mother and sister did. In fact, the longer they were together, the more uncertain his feelings seemed, and sometimes, for a few painful moments, she thought it was just friendship.
Chapter V
As soon as her answer was sent, Mrs. Dashwood happily told her son-in-law and his wife that she had found a house and wouldn't bother them any longer than it took to get ready to move in. They were surprised. Mrs. John Dashwood said nothing, but her husband politely hoped she wouldn't settle too far from Norland. She was pleased to reply that she was moving to Devonshire, a county far, far away. Hearing this, Edward quickly turned to her and repeated, "Devonshire! Are you really going there? So far away! What part?" She explained that it was four miles north of Exeter.
"It's just a cottage," she continued, "but I hope many of my friends will visit. It's easy to add a room or two, and if my friends can travel that far, I'm sure I can make them comfortable."
She kindly invited Mr. and Mrs. John Dashwood to visit her at Barton, and she invited Edward even more warmly. Although her recent conversation with her daughter-in-law had made her want to leave Norland as soon as possible, it hadn't changed her mind about separating Edward and Elinor. She wanted to show Mrs. John Dashwood that she didn't care about her disapproval of the match by specifically inviting her brother.
Mr. John Dashwood kept saying how sorry he was that she was moving so far from Norland that he couldn't help her move her furniture. He was genuinely annoyed because this made it impossible for him to fulfill his promise to his father, even in the limited way he had planned. The furniture was shipped by sea. It mainly included household linen, silverware, china, books, and Marianne's beautiful piano. Mrs. John Dashwood sighed as she watched the packages leave. She couldn't help feeling it was unfair that Mrs. Dashwood, with her small income, should have such nice things.
Mrs. Dashwood rented the house for a year. It was already furnished, and she could move in right away. The agreement was easy, and she only waited to sell her belongings at Norland and decide who to take with her before leaving for the west. Because she did everything quickly, it didn't take long. She had sold the horses her husband left her soon after his death. She also sold her carriage at Elinor’s suggestion. She would have kept it for her daughters' comfort, but Elinor’s wisdom prevailed. Elinor also limited the number of servants to three: two maids and a man, who were quickly hired from their Norland staff.
The man and one of the maids were sent to Devonshire right away to prepare the house for their arrival. Because Mrs. Dashwood didn't know Lady Middleton, she preferred going straight to the cottage to staying at Barton Park. She trusted Sir John’s description of the house and wasn't curious to see it until she moved in. She wanted to leave Norland as soon as possible because her daughter-in-law was so obviously pleased about her departure, a satisfaction she barely hid under a cold invitation to stay longer. Now was the perfect time for her son-in-law to fulfill his promise to his father. Since he hadn't done it when he first inherited the estate, their leaving his house could be seen as the best time to do it. However, Mrs. Dashwood soon gave up hope and realized that he wouldn't help them beyond letting them stay at Norland for six months. He often talked about the rising cost of running a household and how much money a man of his importance had to spend, which made it seem like he needed money more than he wanted to give it away.
A few weeks after Sir John Middleton’s letter arrived, everything was ready for Mrs. Dashwood and her daughters to begin their journey.
Chapter VI
The first part of their journey was sad and unpleasant. But as they got closer to their destination, they became interested in the new scenery, and the view of Barton Valley cheered them up. It was a fertile, wooded area with rich pastureland. After driving along it for over a mile, they reached their new home. A small green patch was all the land in front, and a neat gate led them into it.
Although Barton Cottage was small, it was comfortable. However, it didn’t look like a typical cottage because the building was symmetrical, the roof had tiles, the shutters weren’t green, and the walls weren’t covered in honeysuckle. A narrow hallway led straight through the house to the garden in the back. There was a sixteen-foot square sitting room on each side of the entrance, with the offices and stairs beyond. The rest of the house had four bedrooms and two attics. It was fairly new and in good condition. Compared to Norland, it was poor and small, but they soon dried their tears as they entered the house. The servants were happy to see them, and everyone pretended to be happy for each other’s sake. It was early September, the weather was nice, and they liked the place right away, which helped them approve of it in the long run.
The house had a good location. High hills rose behind it and on each side. Some of the hills were open, while others were farmed and wooded. The village of Barton was mainly on one of these hills, which made a pleasant view from the cottage windows. The view in front was wider, stretching across the valley and into the distance. The hills surrounding the cottage ended the valley, which branched out again between two of the steepest hills.
Mrs. Dashwood was generally happy with the size and furniture of the house. Although she needed to add to the furniture because of her previous lifestyle, she enjoyed adding and improving. She also had enough money to buy nicer things for the rooms. "The house is too small for our family," she said, "but we'll be comfortable for now since it's too late in the year to make changes. Maybe in the spring, if I have plenty of money, we can think about building. These living rooms are too small for the parties I want to have with our friends. I'm thinking of combining the hallway with one of them and using part of the other for an entrance. This, with a new drawing room, a bedroom, and an attic above, will make it a cozy little cottage. I wish the stairs were nicer, but we can't have everything. Maybe we can widen them. I'll see how much money I have in the spring and plan our changes accordingly."
Until she could afford these changes with her five-hundred-a-year income, she was content with the house and everyone was busy arranging their belongings and creating a home. Marianne’s piano was unpacked and placed properly, and Elinor’s drawings were hung on the walls of their living room.
The day after their arrival, their landlord interrupted them as they were unpacking. He came to welcome them to Barton and offer them anything they needed from his own house and garden. Sir John Middleton was a good-looking man about forty. He had visited Stanhill before, but his young cousins didn't remember him. He had a friendly face and was as kind as his letter suggested. Their arrival seemed to please him, and he seemed genuinely concerned about their comfort. He wanted them to be on friendly terms with his family and insisted that they dine at Barton Park every day until they settled in. Although his requests were more persistent than polite, they weren’t offensive. He didn’t just offer words, but within an hour of leaving, a large basket of produce and fruit arrived from the park, followed by a gift of game. He also insisted on delivering their mail for them and sending them his newspaper every day.
Lady Middleton sent a polite message saying she would visit Mrs. Dashwood as soon as it was convenient. The message was answered with a similar invitation, and Lady Middleton was introduced to them the next day.
They were eager to meet someone who would affect their comfort at Barton. Lady Middleton looked elegant, which pleased them. Lady Middleton was in her late twenties. Her face was pretty, her figure was tall and striking, and she was graceful. Her manners were more elegant than her husband's, but she could have used his openness and warmth. Her visit lasted long enough for them to notice that, although she was well-bred, she was reserved, cold, and didn't have much to say beyond common inquiries and remarks.
However, conversation wasn’t needed because Sir John was talkative, and Lady Middleton had brought their eldest child, a fine six-year-old boy. This gave the ladies a topic to discuss in case they ran out of things to say. They could ask his name and age, admire his looks, and ask him questions that his mother would answer for him, while he hung around her and looked down. Lady Middleton was surprised because he made plenty of noise at home but was shy in front of company. She thought that a child should always be included in formal visits as a topic of conversation. In this case, it took ten minutes to decide whether the boy looked more like his father or mother and how he resembled them. Everyone disagreed and was surprised by the opinions of others.
The Dashwoods would soon have a chance to discuss the other children because Sir John wouldn’t leave without their promise to dine at the park the next day.
Chapter VII
Barton Park was about half a mile from the cottage. The ladies had passed near it on their way through the valley, but a hill blocked their view of it from home. The house was large and handsome, and the Middletons lived in a lavish style. Sir John enjoyed the hospitality, while Lady Middleton enjoyed the elegance. They always had friends staying with them and had more company than any other family in the area. This was necessary for their happiness because they both lacked the talent and taste to enjoy activities that didn't involve society. Sir John was a sportsman, and Lady Middleton was a mother. He hunted and shot, and she took care of her children, which were their only interests. Lady Middleton could spoil her children all year, while Sir John's hobbies were only available half the time. However, constant engagements at home and elsewhere made up for their lack of natural talents and education. They kept Sir John in good spirits and gave his wife a chance to use her good manners.
Lady Middleton prided herself on her table setting and domestic arrangements. She enjoyed showing off at parties. However, Sir John enjoyed society more. He liked to invite more young people than his house could hold, and the noisier they were, the happier he was. He was a blessing to the young people in the area. In the summer, he organized outdoor parties with cold ham and chicken, and in the winter, he hosted enough private balls for any young lady.
He always welcomed new families to the area and was charmed by the new residents of his cottage at Barton. The Miss Dashwoods were young, pretty, and unaffected. That was enough to win his approval. To be unaffected was all a pretty girl needed to make her mind as captivating as her appearance. Because he was so friendly, he was happy to accommodate those who were less fortunate. He was truly happy to show kindness to his cousins. Because he was a sportsman, he was also pleased to have a family of women living in his cottage. A sportsman only values men who are also sportsmen but doesn’t want them living on his property.
Sir John greeted Mrs. Dashwood and her daughters at the door of the house. He repeated how sorry he was that he couldn't find any attractive young men to meet them. He said they would only see one gentleman there besides him, a friend staying at the park who wasn't young or cheerful. He hoped they would excuse the small party and assured them it wouldn’t happen again. He had visited several families that morning to invite more guests, but everyone was busy because it was a moonlit night. Luckily, Lady Middleton’s mother had arrived at Barton that day. Because she was cheerful and pleasant, he hoped the young ladies wouldn’t find it too dull. The young ladies and their mother were happy to have two strangers in the party and didn’t want any more.
Mrs. Jennings, Lady Middleton’s mother, was a good-humored, merry, fat, elderly woman who talked a lot, seemed happy, and was rather vulgar. She told jokes and laughed. Before dinner was over, she had made many witty remarks about lovers and husbands, hoped they hadn’t left their hearts behind them in Sussex, and pretended to see them blush whether they did or not. Marianne was annoyed for her sister’s sake and looked at Elinor to see how she handled the situation. However, this made Elinor more uncomfortable than Mrs. Jennings’s common jokes.
Colonel Brandon, Sir John’s friend, seemed as different from him as Lady Middleton was from his wife or Mrs. Jennings from Lady Middleton’s mother. He was silent and serious. However, he wasn’t unpleasant-looking. Although Marianne and Margaret thought he was an old bachelor because he was over thirty-five, he had a sensible face and gentlemanly manners.
None of the guests seemed like good companions for the Dashwoods. However, Lady Middleton’s coldness was so off-putting that Colonel Brandon’s seriousness and Sir John and his mother-in-law’s boisterousness were more interesting in comparison. Lady Middleton only seemed happy when her four noisy children came in after dinner. They bothered her, tore her clothes, and stopped all conversation except for what concerned them.
In the evening, Marianne was invited to play the piano because she was musical. Everyone prepared to be charmed. Marianne, who sang well, sang the songs that Lady Middleton had brought into the family when she got married, which may have been sitting untouched on the piano ever since. Lady Middleton had stopped playing music after her marriage, even though her mother said she had played very well and she said she enjoyed it.
Marianne’s performance was applauded. Sir John admired every song loudly and talked loudly to the others during each song. Lady Middleton told him to be quiet, wondered how anyone could be distracted from the music, and asked Marianne to sing a song she had just finished. Colonel Brandon was the only one who listened without being in awe. He just paid attention to her. She respected him for this because the others had shown a lack of taste. Although he didn’t enjoy the music as passionately as she did, she appreciated it because the others were so insensitive. She also knew that a man of thirty-five might have lost some of his sensitivity. She was willing to make allowances for the colonel’s age.
Chapter VIII
Mrs. Jennings was a widow with a large income. Her two daughters were married, so she had nothing to do but find husbands for everyone else. She was always trying to arrange marriages among the young people she knew. She could quickly tell when someone was in love and enjoyed making young ladies blush by suggesting that a certain young man liked them. This helped her decide that Colonel Brandon was in love with Marianne Dashwood soon after arriving at Barton. She suspected it on their first evening together because he listened so closely while she sang. When the Middletons had dinner at the cottage, he listened to her again, which confirmed her suspicion. She was sure it was true and that they would be a good match because he was rich and she was pretty. Mrs. Jennings had wanted Colonel Brandon to get married ever since she met him through Sir John. She always wanted to find good husbands for pretty girls.
She also enjoyed teasing them both about it. She teased the colonel at the park and Marianne at the cottage. The colonel probably didn't care about her jokes, but Marianne didn't understand them at first. When she realized what Mrs. Jennings meant, she didn't know whether to laugh at how silly it was or be angry at how rude it was. She thought it was cruel to make fun of the colonel's age and his being an old bachelor.
Mrs. Dashwood, who didn't think a man five years younger than herself was old, defended Mrs. Jennings and said she probably didn't mean to make fun of his age.
"But, Mom, you can't deny how ridiculous it is, even if she doesn't mean to be unkind. Colonel Brandon is younger than Mrs. Jennings, but he's old enough to be my father. If he was ever capable of being in love, he must have outgrown it. It's too ridiculous! When is a man safe from such jokes if age doesn't protect him?"
"Old age!" said Elinor, "Are you calling Colonel Brandon old? I know you think he's older than Mom does, but you can't really think he can't move around!"
"Didn't you hear him complain about his rheumatism? Isn't that a common symptom of old age?"
"Sweetheart," said her mother, laughing, "You must be scared of me getting old and think it's a miracle I've lived to the ripe old age of forty."
"Mom, that's not fair. I know Colonel Brandon isn't so old that his friends are worried about him dying soon. He could live another twenty years. But thirty-five has nothing to do with marriage."
"Maybe," said Elinor, "thirty-five and seventeen shouldn't get married. But if a woman is single at twenty-seven, I don't think Colonel Brandon being thirty-five should stop him from marrying her."
"A woman of twenty-seven," said Marianne after a pause, "can't hope to feel or inspire love again. If she's unhappy at home or doesn't have much money, she might become a nurse for the sake of security as a wife. It would be fine for him to marry such a woman. It would be a business agreement, and everyone would be happy. But I wouldn't call it a marriage. It would be a commercial exchange where they both wanted to gain at the other's expense."
"I know I can't convince you that a woman of twenty-seven can love a man of thirty-five enough to want to be with him," replied Elinor. "But I don't think you should sentence Colonel Brandon and his wife to being stuck in a sick room just because he complained about a little rheumatism yesterday, on a cold and damp day."
"But he talked about wearing flannel," said Marianne. "To me, flannel is always associated with aches, cramps, rheumatism, and every ailment that affects the old and weak."
"If he had a fever, you wouldn't despise him as much. Admit it, Marianne, don't you find the flushed cheeks, sunken eyes, and fast pulse of a fever attractive?"
Soon after this, when Elinor left the room, Marianne said, "Mom, I'm worried about Edward Ferrars. We've been here for almost two weeks, and he still hasn't visited. Only illness could explain why he's delayed."
"Did you expect him to come so soon?" said Mrs. Dashwood. "I didn't. In fact, I've been worried because he didn't seem enthusiastic when I invited him to Barton. Does Elinor expect him already?"
"I haven't mentioned it to her, but she must."
"I don't think so. Yesterday, when I was talking about getting a new fireplace for the spare bedroom, she said there was no hurry because the room wasn't likely to be used for a while."
"How strange! What could it mean? Their behavior has been odd! How cold and calm they were when they said goodbye! How dull their conversation was on their last evening together! Edward said goodbye to Elinor and me like a brother. I left them alone on purpose twice that morning, but he followed me out of the room each time. And Elinor didn't cry when she left Norland and Edward, like I did. She's always in control. When is she sad or gloomy? When does she avoid people or seem restless and unhappy?"
Chapter IX
The Dashwoods were settling in at Barton comfortably. They were getting used to the house, the garden, and the surrounding area. They were also enjoying their hobbies more than they had at Norland since their father died. Sir John Middleton visited them every day for the first two weeks. Because he wasn't used to seeing so many activities, he was surprised to find them always busy.
They didn't have many visitors besides those from Barton Park. Although Sir John kept urging them to socialize more and offered his carriage, Mrs. Dashwood's independent spirit made her decline visits to families who lived too far to walk. Only a few families met that criterion, and not all of them were accessible. About a mile and a half from the cottage, along the narrow Allenham valley, the girls discovered an old mansion that reminded them of Norland and made them want to know more about it. However, they learned that the owner, an elderly lady with a good reputation, was too ill to go out and never left home.
The surrounding area had many beautiful walks. The high hills offered stunning views and were a good alternative when the valleys were muddy. One morning, Marianne and Margaret walked to one of these hills, drawn by the sunshine in the showery sky. They couldn't bear being cooped up any longer after two days of rain. Marianne insisted that the day would be clear and that the clouds would disappear from the hills. So, the two girls set off.
They climbed the hills happily, congratulating themselves every time they saw a patch of blue sky. They enjoyed the strong southwesterly wind and felt sorry for their mother and Elinor, who were missing out.
"Is there anything better than this?" said Marianne. "Margaret, let's walk here for at least two hours."
Margaret agreed, and they walked against the wind for another twenty minutes. Suddenly, the clouds closed in, and rain poured down on them. Annoyed and surprised, they reluctantly turned back because their house was the closest shelter. However, they had one consolation: they could run down the steep hill to their garden gate as fast as possible.
They started running. Marianne was faster at first, but she tripped and fell. Margaret couldn't stop to help her and ran safely to the bottom.
A gentleman with a gun and two dogs was walking up the hill a few yards from Marianne when she fell. He put down his gun and ran to help her. She had gotten up, but her foot was twisted, and she could barely stand. The gentleman offered to help. Because she declined because she was shy, he picked her up and carried her down the hill. He went through the garden, which Margaret had left open, and carried her into the house. He didn't put her down until he had placed her in a chair in the living room.
Elinor and her mother were surprised when they came in. They stared at him with wonder and admiration because he was so handsome. He apologized for intruding and explained what had happened. His voice and expression made him even more attractive. Even if he had been old, ugly, and vulgar, Mrs. Dashwood would have appreciated him for helping her daughter. But his youth, beauty, and elegance made the action even more special.
She thanked him repeatedly and kindly invited him to sit down. He declined because he was wet and dirty. Mrs. Dashwood asked his name. He said he was Willoughby and that he lived at Allenham. He hoped she would let him visit the next day to check on Miss Dashwood. She agreed, and he left to make himself even more intriguing as it rained heavily.
His good looks and charm were the talk of the house. Marianne’s embarrassment over being carried made his gallantry even more appealing. Marianne hadn't seen him as clearly as the others because she had been flustered when he picked her up. But she had seen enough to agree with the others. He looked like her ideal hero. She also admired his quick thinking in carrying her into the house without hesitating. Everything about him was interesting. His name was nice, he lived in their favorite village, and she liked his shooting jacket. She was busy thinking about him, and she forgot about her sprained ankle.
Sir John visited them the next morning when the weather cleared up. They told him about Marianne's accident and asked if he knew a Mr. Willoughby from Allenham.
"Willoughby!" cried Sir John. "Is he in the area? That's good news. I'll ride over tomorrow and invite him to dinner on Thursday."
"So, you know him," said Mrs. Dashwood.
"Know him! Of course. He comes here every year."
"What kind of young man is he?"
"He's a great guy, I assure you. A good shot, and he's the boldest rider in England."
"Is that all you can say about him?" cried Marianne, annoyed. "What is he like on closer acquaintance? What are his interests, his talents, and his genius?"
Sir John was puzzled.
"Honestly," he said, "I don't know much about that. But he's pleasant and good-humored and has a nice little black dog."
Marianne couldn't tell him what color Mr. Willoughby's dog was, and he couldn't describe his personality.
"But who is he?" said Elinor. "Where does he come from? Does he own a house at Allenham?"
Sir John could answer this question. He told them that Mr. Willoughby didn't own any property there. He was just visiting the old lady at Allenham Court, to whom he was related and whose property he would inherit. "Yes, he's worth catching, Miss Dashwood. He has a nice little estate in Somersetshire, too. I wouldn't give him up to your younger sister, despite all this tumbling down hills. Miss Marianne can't expect to have all the men to herself. Brandon will be jealous."
"I don't think Mr. Willoughby will be bothered by my daughters trying to catch him," said Mrs. Dashwood with a smile. "They weren't raised to do that. Men are safe with us, no matter how rich they are. I'm glad he's a respectable young man whose acquaintance will be welcome."
"He's a great guy," repeated Sir John. "Last Christmas, at a dance at the park, he danced from eight o'clock until four without sitting down."
"Really?" cried Marianne with sparkling eyes. "And was he graceful and lively?"
"Yes, and he was up again at eight to go hunting."
"That's what I like. That's what a young man should be. Whatever he does, he should do it enthusiastically and not get tired."
"I see how it is," said Sir John. "You'll be setting your sights on him now and forget about poor Brandon."
"Sir John," said Marianne warmly, "I hate that expression. I hate every common phrase that's meant to be witty. 'Setting your sights on a man' or 'making a conquest' are the worst. They're gross and rude. Even if they were clever, they're not anymore."
Sir John didn't understand the criticism, but he laughed anyway and replied, "You'll make conquests one way or another. Poor Brandon! He's already smitten and he's worth pursuing, despite all this tumbling and spraining."
X
Marianne's rescuer, as Margaret called Willoughby, visited the cottage the next morning to inquire about her. Mrs. Dashwood welcomed him warmly because of Sir John's description and her own gratitude. Everything about the visit assured him of the family's sense, elegance, affection, and comfort. He knew they were attractive after just one visit.
Miss Dashwood had a delicate complexion, nice features, and a pretty figure. Marianne was even prettier. Although her figure wasn't as perfect as her sister's, she was taller and more striking. Her face was so lovely that it was true to call her beautiful. Her skin was tan, but clear. Her features were nice, her smile was sweet, and her dark eyes were lively and eager. Willoughby couldn't see her eyes at first because she was embarrassed about him helping her. But when she relaxed, when she saw that he was friendly and lively, and when she heard him say that he loved music and dancing, she looked at him approvingly and spent the rest of his visit talking to him.
She talked whenever her favorite things were mentioned. She wasn't shy about discussing them. They quickly realized that they both loved dancing and music and agreed on everything related to them. Encouraged by this, she asked him about books. She mentioned her favorite authors and talked about them so passionately that any young man would have loved them, even if he hadn't before. They had similar taste. They loved the same books and passages. If they disagreed, it didn't last long because she convinced him with her arguments and her eyes. He agreed with her and shared her enthusiasm. By the end of his visit, they were talking like old friends.
"Marianne," said Elinor as soon as he left, "you did well this morning. You know Mr. Willoughby's opinion on almost everything important. You know what he thinks of and you've made sure he doesn't like Pope too much. How will you keep the conversation going when you've discussed everything? You'll soon run out of topics. At the next meeting, you can ask him about picturesque beauty and remarriage, and then you'll have nothing left to ask."
"Elinor," cried Marianne, "is that fair? Are my ideas so limited? I see what you mean. I was too comfortable, too happy, too open. I broke every rule of politeness. I was open and honest when I should have been reserved, dull, and deceitful. If I had talked about the weather and the roads and spoken only once every ten minutes, you wouldn't have criticized me."
"Sweetheart," said her mother, "don't be offended by Elinor. She was joking. I'd scold her myself if she didn't want you to enjoy talking to our new friend."
Marianne calmed down.
Willoughby showed that he enjoyed their company and wanted to get to know them better. He visited them every day. He said he was checking on Marianne at first, but they were so kind to him that he didn't need an excuse after Marianne recovered. She stayed home for a few days, but she wasn't bored. Willoughby was a young man with talent, imagination, spirit, and affection. He was perfect for Marianne because he was attractive and had a passionate mind that was inspired by her own.
She enjoyed his company more than anything. They read, talked, and sang together. He was talented musically, and he read with the emotion that Edward lacked.
Mrs. Dashwood thought he was perfect, too. Elinor didn't find anything wrong with him except that he said what he thought too much, like Marianne. He quickly formed opinions of others, sacrificed politeness to get attention, and easily dismissed social customs, which Elinor didn't like.
Marianne realized that she had been wrong to think she would never find a man who could satisfy her. Willoughby was everything she had imagined. He also seemed to want to be with her as much as she wanted to be with him.
Her mother thought they would get married and congratulated herself on having two good sons-in-law.
Colonel Brandon liked Marianne, but Elinor was the first to notice it when others stopped noticing. They were focused on Willoughby. Elinor realized that Mrs. Jennings was right. Colonel Brandon liked her sister, and Willoughby had a similar personality to her, while Colonel Brandon had an opposite personality. She was concerned because she didn't think a quiet man of thirty-five had a chance against a lively man of twenty-five. She wished he didn't care about Marianne. She liked him and thought he was interesting. He was mild and seemed sad. Sir John had hinted at his past, which made her feel sorry for him. She respected and pitied him.
Chapter X
When the Dashwoods first came to Devonshire, they didn't expect to be so busy. They thought they would have plenty of time to themselves, but they were invited out so often and had so many visitors that they had little time for serious activities. As soon as Marianne recovered, Sir John put his plans for entertainment into action. The private dances at the park started, and they went boating whenever the October weather allowed. Willoughby was included in every event. The relaxed and friendly atmosphere of these gatherings made him more intimate with the Dashwoods, gave him a chance to see Marianne's good qualities, showed how much he admired her, and made it clear that she loved him back.
Elinor wasn't surprised by their attachment. She just wished they wouldn't be so open about it and occasionally suggested that Marianne show some self-control. However, Marianne hated hiding things when there was no real reason to be ashamed. She thought that trying to restrain feelings that weren't bad was unnecessary and showed a disgraceful submission to mistaken social norms. Willoughby agreed, and their behavior reflected their beliefs.
When he was there, she didn't notice anyone else. Everything he did was right, and everything he said was clever. If they played cards at the park, he would cheat to get her a good hand. If they danced, they were partners half the time. When they had to dance with other people, they stood together and barely spoke to anyone else. People laughed at them, but they didn't care.
Mrs. Dashwood understood their feelings and didn't want to discourage them. She thought it was natural for young people in love to be so open.
This was a happy time for Marianne. She loved Willoughby, and the strong attachment to Norland she had brought from Sussex was fading because of the charms of her new home.
Elinor wasn't as happy. She wasn't as relaxed, and she didn't enjoy their activities as much. They didn't have anyone who could replace what she had left behind or make her miss Norland less. Neither Lady Middleton nor Mrs. Jennings could provide the conversation she missed. Mrs. Jennings was always talking and had been kind to her from the start, so she heard a lot from her. She had already told Elinor her life story several times, and Elinor knew all the details of Mr. Jennings's last illness and what he said before he died. Lady Middleton was better than her mother only because she was quieter. Elinor realized that her reserve was just a calm manner that had nothing to do with intelligence. She treated her husband and mother the same as everyone else, so intimacy wasn't possible. She never said anything new, and her personality was always the same. Although she didn't object to her husband's parties as long as they were stylish and her children were there, she didn't seem to enjoy them any more than she would have enjoyed staying home. She didn't add anything to the conversations, so people only noticed she was there when she worried about her children.
Colonel Brandon was the only new acquaintance who earned Elinor's respect, friendship, and companionship. Willoughby was out of the question. He only cared about Marianne, and any less attractive man could have been more pleasing to everyone else. Colonel Brandon didn't have any encouragement to focus on Marianne, so he found comfort in talking to Elinor.
Elinor felt sorry for him because she suspected he had been disappointed in love before. She realized this one evening at the park when they were sitting together while the others danced. He was watching Marianne and said with a faint smile, "I hear your sister doesn't approve of second loves."
"No," Elinor replied, "she's very romantic."
"Or rather, she thinks they're impossible."
"I think she does. I don't know how she can think that when her own father had two wives. But she'll learn better in a few years. Then she'll be more reasonable."
"That's probably true," he replied, "but there's something so charming about the beliefs of a young mind that it's sad to see them change."
"I disagree," said Elinor. "Marianne's feelings cause problems that enthusiasm and ignorance can't make up for. Her beliefs make her disregard social norms, and learning more about the world will help her."
After a pause, he asked, "Does your sister make any exceptions to her objections to second loves? Or is it equally bad for everyone? Should those who have been disappointed because they were betrayed or because of circumstances remain indifferent for the rest of their lives?"
"I don't know the details of her principles. I just know she doesn't think second loves are ever okay."
"That's not right. But a change, a complete change of heart—No, don't wish for that. When a young mind loses its romantic ideals, it's often replaced by opinions that are too common and too dangerous. I know from experience. I once knew a woman who was like your sister. She thought and judged like her, but because she was forced to change because of unfortunate events—" He stopped suddenly and seemed to think he had said too much. His expression made Elinor wonder what he meant. She might not have suspected anything if he hadn't made it clear that she should be concerned. She realized that he must have been thinking about a past love. Elinor didn't push him. But Marianne would have found out the whole story and made it as tragic as possible.
Chapter XI
The next morning, Marianne told Elinor that Willoughby had given her a horse that he had raised on his estate in Somersetshire and that was perfect for a woman to ride. Elinor was surprised because she knew that her mother didn't want to keep any horses. If she changed her mind, she would have to buy another horse for the servant, hire a servant to ride it, and build a stable. However, Marianne had accepted the gift without hesitation and was thrilled.
"He's sending his groom to Somersetshire for it right away," she added, "and when it gets here, we'll ride every day. You can ride it with me. Imagine how wonderful it will be to ride on those hills."
Elinor hated to burst her bubble, but she had to explain the situation. Marianne refused to listen at first. She said that another servant wouldn't cost much, her mother wouldn't object, any horse would do for him, he could get one at the park, and a shed would be enough for a stable. Elinor then questioned whether it was appropriate to accept such a gift from a man she barely knew. That was too much.
"You're wrong, Elinor," she said. "I know Willoughby very well. I haven't known him for long, but I know him better than anyone else in the world except you and Mom. Intimacy isn't about time, it's about connection. Seven years isn't enough for some people, and seven days is too much for others. It would be worse to accept a horse from John than from Willoughby. I don't know John, even though we've lived together for years, but I know Willoughby."
Elinor thought it was best to drop the subject. She knew her sister's personality. Arguing about something so sensitive would only make her more stubborn. However, she appealed to her love for her mother and explained how much trouble her mother would cause herself if she agreed to this. Marianne finally agreed not to mention the gift to her mother and to tell Willoughby that she had to refuse it.
She kept her promise. When Willoughby visited the cottage that day, Elinor heard her explain her disappointment that she couldn't accept his gift. She explained her reasons, and he couldn't argue. However, he was very concerned. He said in a low voice, "But, Marianne, the horse is still yours, even if you can't use it now. I'll keep it until you can claim it. When you leave Barton to start your own home, Queen Mab will be waiting for you."
Elinor overheard all of this. She knew that they were definitely together because of his words, the way he said them, and the fact that he called her by her first name. She was only surprised that she and her friends hadn't realized it sooner.
Margaret told her something the next day that made it even clearer. Willoughby had spent the evening with them. Margaret had been left alone with him and Marianne and had noticed things. She excitedly told Elinor about it when they were alone.
"Oh, Elinor!" she cried. "I have a secret to tell you about Marianne. I'm sure she's going to marry Mr. Willoughby very soon."
"You've been saying that almost every day since they met," replied Elinor. "I think you were sure she wore his picture around her neck before they had known each other for a week. But it was just a picture of our great-uncle."
"But this is different. I'm sure they're going to get married soon because he has a lock of her hair."
"Be careful, Margaret. It might just be a lock of hair from a great-uncle of his."
"But, Elinor, it's Marianne's. I'm almost sure it is because I saw him cut it off. Last night, after tea, when you and Mom left the room, they were whispering and talking. He seemed to be begging her for something. Then he took her scissors and cut off a long lock of her hair. It was all down her back. He kissed it, folded it up in a piece of white paper, and put it into his pocket-book."
Elinor believed her because she knew she could trust her and it matched what she had heard and seen.
Margaret wasn't always so helpful. One evening at the park, Mrs. Jennings teased her and asked her to name Elinor's favorite young man, which had been a mystery for a long time. Margaret looked at her sister and said, "I can't tell, can I, Elinor?"
Everyone laughed, and Elinor tried to laugh, too, but it was hard. She knew that Margaret had picked someone who she didn't want to be associated with Mrs. Jennings.
Marianne felt bad for her sister and tried to help, but she made things worse. She turned red and angrily said to Margaret, "Remember that you have no right to repeat your guesses."
"I never guessed," replied Margaret. "You told me yourself."
This made everyone laugh harder, and they urged Margaret to say more.
"Oh, please, Miss Margaret, tell us all about it," said Mrs. Jennings. "What's the gentleman's name?"
"I can't tell, ma'am. But I know what it is, and I know where he is, too."
"Yes, we can guess where he is. He's at his own house in Norland, of course. He's the curate of the parish, I'm sure."
"No, he's not. He doesn't have a job."
"Margaret," said Marianne warmly, "you know this is all made up, and there's no such person."
"Well, then, he died recently because I'm sure there was such a man once, and his name starts with an F."
Elinor was grateful to Lady Middleton for saying that it was raining hard because she didn't like Mrs. Jennings and her husband's jokes. Colonel Brandon also changed the subject and talked about the rain. Willoughby started playing the piano and asked Marianne to sing. The topic was dropped. However, Elinor was still worried.
That evening, they planned a trip to see a beautiful place twelve miles from Barton that belonged to Colonel Brandon's brother-in-law. It could only be seen with his permission because the owner was abroad and had given strict orders. Sir John said the grounds were beautiful because he had visited them every summer for the past ten years. They included a lake, and they would go sailing. They would bring food, use open carriages, and do everything in style.
Some people thought it was too risky because of the time of year and because it had rained every day for the past two weeks. Elinor convinced Mrs. Dashwood, who had a cold, to stay home.
Chapter XII
Their trip to Whitwell was different from what Elinor expected. She thought they would get wet, tired, and scared, but it was worse because they didn't go at all.
By ten o'clock, everyone had gathered at the park for breakfast. The morning was decent because the clouds were clearing and the sun was shining. They were in good spirits, ready to be happy, and determined to endure any difficulties.
While they were eating, the mail was delivered. Colonel Brandon received a letter. He took it, looked at the address, turned pale, and left the room.
"What's wrong with Brandon?" said Sir John.
No one knew.
"I hope he didn't get bad news," said Lady Middleton. "It must be something serious to make Colonel Brandon leave my breakfast table so suddenly."
He returned in five minutes.
"No bad news, Colonel, I hope," said Mrs. Jennings as soon as he entered.
"None at all, ma'am, thank you."
"Was it from Avignon? I hope your sister isn't worse."
"No, ma'am. It was from town and is just a business letter."
"How could the handwriting upset you so much if it was just a business letter? Tell us the truth."
"My dear madam," said Lady Middleton, "remember what you're saying."
"Perhaps it's to tell you that your cousin Fanny is married?" said Mrs. Jennings, ignoring her daughter's warning.
"No, it's not."
"Well, then, I know who it's from, Colonel. I hope she's well."
"Who do you mean, ma'am?" he said, blushing.
"Oh, you know who I mean."
"I'm sorry that I received this letter today," he said to Lady Middleton, "because it's about business that requires me to go to town immediately."
"To town!" cried Mrs. Jennings. "Why do you have to go to town now?"
"I'm sad to miss such a pleasant party, but I'm more concerned that I won't be able to get you into Whitwell."
This was a blow to everyone.
"If you write a note to the housekeeper, Mr. Brandon," said Marianne, "will that be enough?"
He shook his head.
"We have to go," said Sir John. "It can't be postponed when we're so close. You can't go to town until tomorrow, Brandon."
"I wish it were that simple. But I can't delay my trip for one day!"
"If you told us what your business is," said Mrs. Jennings, "we might see if it could be postponed."
"You wouldn't be six hours late," said Willoughby, "if you waited until we got back."
"I can't afford to lose one hour."
Elinor then heard Willoughby say to Marianne in a low voice, "Some people can't stand a party. Brandon's one of them. He was afraid of catching a cold and made this up. I'd bet the letter was written by him."
"I agree," replied Marianne.
"I can't change your mind, Brandon," said Sir John, "when you're determined. But I hope you'll think about it. The Miss Careys came from Newton, the Miss Dashwoods walked from the cottage, and Mr. Willoughby woke up early to go to Whitwell."
Colonel Brandon said he was sorry for disappointing them but that it was unavoidable.
"When will you be back?"
"I hope we'll see you at Barton," added Lady Middleton, "as soon as you can leave town. We'll postpone the trip to Whitwell until you return."
"You're kind, but I can't promise when I'll be back."
"He has to come back," cried Sir John. "If he's not here by the end of the week, I'll go get him."
"Do that, Sir John," cried Mrs. Jennings. "Maybe you'll find out what his business is."
"I don't want to pry. I guess it's something he's ashamed of."
Colonel Brandon's horses were announced.
"You're not riding to town, are you?" added Sir John.
"No. Just to Honiton. Then I'll take a post."
"I wish you a good trip. But you should change your mind."
"I can't."
He said goodbye to everyone.
"Will I see you and your sisters in town this winter, Miss Dashwood?"
"I don't think so."
"Then I have to say goodbye for longer than I want to."
He just bowed to Marianne and said nothing.
"Colonel," said Mrs. Jennings, "before you go, tell us what you're doing."
He wished her a good morning and left with Sir John.
The complaints that they had been holding back burst out. They all agreed that it was awful to be so disappointed.
"I know what his business is," said Mrs. Jennings.
"You do?" said almost everyone.
"Yes, it's about Miss Williams, I'm sure."
"Who's Miss Williams?" asked Marianne.
"You don't know? She's a relative of the Colonel's, a close relative. We won't say how close. She's his illegitimate daughter."
"Really!"
"Yes, and she looks just like him. I bet the Colonel will leave her his money."
When Sir John returned, he joined in the complaining. Then he said that they should do something to be happy. After talking, they agreed that although they could only be happy at Whitwell, they could feel better by driving around the countryside. The carriages were ordered. Willoughby's was first, and Marianne looked happy when she got into it. He drove quickly through the park, and they were soon out of sight. They didn't return until after everyone else. They seemed to enjoy their drive but just said that they had stayed in the lanes while the others went on the hills.
They decided to have a dance that evening and to be merry all day. More of the Careys came for dinner, and they had almost twenty people at the table, which pleased Sir John. Willoughby sat between the two elder Miss Dashwoods. Mrs. Jennings sat to Elinor's right. She leaned behind her and Willoughby and said to Marianne loudly enough for them to hear, "I know where you went this morning."
Marianne blushed and asked, "Where?"
"Didn't you know that we went out in my carriage?" said Willoughby.
"I know that, and I wanted to find out where you went. I hope you like your house, Miss Marianne. It's big, and I hope you've redecorated it, because it needed it when I was there six years ago."
Marianne was embarrassed. Mrs. Jennings laughed. Elinor learned that she had asked Willoughby's groom, who told her that they had gone to Allenham and spent time walking in the garden and touring the house.
Elinor didn't believe that Willoughby would take Marianne into the house while Mrs. Smith was there, whom Marianne didn't know.
After they left the dining room, Elinor asked her about it. She was surprised to learn that everything Mrs. Jennings said was true. Marianne was angry that she doubted her.
"Why would you think we didn't go there or see the house? Don't you want to do that yourself?"
"Yes, but I wouldn't go while Mrs. Smith was there and with just Mr. Willoughby."
"Mr. Willoughby is the only one who can show that house, and he went in an open carriage, so we couldn't have anyone else. I had a wonderful morning."
"I'm afraid that just because you enjoyed something doesn't make it right."
"It does, Elinor. If I had done something wrong, I would have known it, and I wouldn't have enjoyed it."
"But since it's caused some rude remarks, don't you wonder if you should have done it?"
"If rude remarks are proof of wrongdoing, we're always doing something wrong. I don't care about her criticism. I didn't do anything wrong by walking on Mrs. Smith's property or seeing her house. They'll belong to Mr. Willoughby one day, and—"
"Even if they were going to be yours, Marianne, you wouldn't be justified."
She blushed, but she seemed happy. After thinking for ten minutes, she came back to her sister and said, "Maybe it wasn't smart to go to Allenham, but Mr. Willoughby wanted to show me the place, and it's a charming house. There's a pretty sitting room upstairs that's perfect for everyday use. With modern furniture, it would be delightful. It's a corner room with windows on two sides. One side looks across the bowling green behind the house to a beautiful wood, and the other has a view of the church and village and those hills we admire. It didn't look good because the furniture was awful, but Willoughby says a couple of hundred pounds would make it one of the nicest rooms in England."
If Elinor hadn't been interrupted, she would have described every room.
Chapter XIII
Mrs. Jennings wondered why Colonel Brandon had left so suddenly and kept it a secret. She always wondered about everything her acquaintances did. She was sure something sad had happened to him and tried to imagine all the troubles he could have. She was determined that he wouldn't escape them all.
"Something must be wrong," she said. "I saw it in his face. I'm afraid he has money problems. Delaford wasn't worth much, and his brother left a mess. He must have been called away about money. I wish I knew. Maybe it's about Miss Williams, because he looked guilty when I mentioned her. Maybe she's sick in town. I'd bet it's about Miss Williams. He's probably cleared the estate by now. I wonder what it is! Maybe his sister is worse in Avignon and sent for him. I hope he gets through it and finds a good wife."
Mrs. Jennings kept wondering and talking, changing her mind with each new guess. Elinor was concerned about Colonel Brandon, but she didn't focus on his sudden departure as much as Mrs. Jennings did. She was more interested in why Marianne and Willoughby were so quiet about something that must be important to them. Their silence was strange and didn't match their personalities. Elinor couldn't understand why they wouldn't openly tell her and her mother what they were clearly showing each other.
She knew that they might not be able to get married right away because Willoughby wasn't rich. Sir John said his estate was worth six or seven hundred a year, but he spent more than that. However, she couldn't understand their secrecy about their engagement, which didn't hide anything. It went against their beliefs, so she sometimes wondered if they were really engaged. She didn't want to ask Marianne.
Willoughby acted like he loved them. He was tender to Marianne and affectionate to her family. He treated the cottage like his home, spent more time there than at Allenham, and always ended his morning rides there. He would sit with Marianne while his dog sat at her feet.
One evening, about a week after Colonel Brandon left, he seemed more attached to everyone. When Mrs. Dashwood mentioned improving the cottage in the spring, he strongly opposed changing a place that was perfect to him.
"Don't improve this dear cottage!" he exclaimed. "I won't allow it. Don't add a stone or an inch if you care about my feelings."
"Don't worry," said Miss Dashwood. "We won't. My mother will never have enough money."
"I'm glad," he cried. "May she always be poor if that's how she'll spend her money."
"Thank you, Willoughby. I won't sacrifice your feelings for any improvement. I'd rather save the money than hurt you. But do you really like this place so much?"
"I do. It's perfect. It's the only kind of building where you can be happy. If I were rich, I'd tear down Combe and rebuild it to look like this cottage."
"With dark stairs and a smoky kitchen?" said Elinor.
"Yes, with everything. It shouldn't be different. Then I might be as happy at Combe as I have been at Barton."
"I think you'll find your own house as perfect as you do this one."
"Some things could make it special, but this place will always have my heart."
Mrs. Dashwood looked at Marianne, who was watching Willoughby with loving eyes.
"I wish I had known Barton cottage was available a year ago when I was at Allenham. I admired it and wished someone lived there. I didn't know that I would hear that it had been taken, and I was happy. I must have known I would be happy here. Isn't that right, Marianne?" He turned to her and lowered his voice. Then he said, "And you would ruin this house, Mrs. Dashwood? You would take away its simplicity with improvements? You would turn this room where we met and have spent so many hours into an entrance? Everyone would pass through it, even though it has more comfort than any mansion."
Mrs. Dashwood said she wouldn't change it.
"You're a good woman," he said. "Promise me that not only your house will stay the same but that you and your family will always be the same and that you will always be kind to me."
She promised, and Willoughby acted affectionate and happy all evening.
"Will we see you for dinner tomorrow?" said Mrs. Dashwood as he left. "We're walking to the park to see Lady Middleton."
He promised to be there by four o'clock.
Chapter XIV
The next day, Mrs. Dashwood and two of her daughters visited Lady Middleton. Marianne stayed home, saying she had to do something. Her mother thought Willoughby had promised to visit and was happy.
When they returned, they saw Willoughby's carriage waiting at the cottage. Mrs. Dashwood thought she had been right. However, when they entered the house, Marianne rushed out of the living room with a handkerchief over her eyes. She didn't notice them and ran upstairs. They went into the room and found Willoughby leaning against the fireplace with his back to them. He turned around and looked upset.
"What's wrong with her?" cried Mrs. Dashwood. "Is she sick?"
"I hope not," he replied, trying to smile. "I'm the one who might be sick because I'm very disappointed."
"Disappointed?"
"Yes, I can't keep my promise to you. Mrs. Smith sent me to London on business. I just got my orders and said goodbye to Allenham. I came to say goodbye to you."
"To London! Are you going this morning?"
"Almost right now."
"That's too bad. But Mrs. Smith needs you, and her business won't keep you long."
He blushed and replied, "You're kind, but I don't plan to return to Devonshire soon. I don't visit Mrs. Smith more than once a year."
"Is Mrs. Smith your only friend? Is Allenham the only place you're welcome? Can't you wait for an invitation here?"
He blushed more and said, "You're too good."
Mrs. Dashwood looked at Elinor in surprise. Elinor was just as surprised. Everyone was silent. Mrs. Dashwood spoke first.
"You're always welcome at Barton cottage, Willoughby. I won't pressure you to return because you know what pleases Mrs. Smith. I won't question your judgment."
"I can't promise anything right now," replied Willoughby, confused. "I don't dare to hope—"
He stopped. Mrs. Dashwood was too surprised to speak, and there was another pause. Willoughby broke the silence and said with a faint smile, "It's foolish to stay here any longer. I can't enjoy being with friends."
He said goodbye and left. They saw him get into his carriage and drive away.
Mrs. Dashwood felt too much to speak and left the room to deal with her concern alone.
Elinor was just as worried as her mother. She thought about what had happened with anxiety. Willoughby's goodbye, his embarrassment, his cheerfulness, and his refusal to accept her mother's invitation bothered her. She feared that he had never been serious or that he and her sister had argued. Marianne's distress suggested a serious argument, but she couldn't imagine her and Willoughby arguing because of how much she loved him.
Whatever had happened, her sister was upset. She felt sorry for Marianne because she was probably encouraging her sadness instead of trying to feel better.
Her mother returned in half an hour. Her eyes were red, but she looked cheerful.
"Our dear Willoughby is miles from Barton, Elinor," she said as she sat down to work. "He must be sad."
"It's strange. It happened so fast. Last night, he was happy, cheerful, and affectionate. Now, after ten minutes, he's gone and doesn't plan to return. Something else must have happened. He didn't act like himself. You must have seen it. What could it be? Did they argue? Why wouldn't he accept your invitation?"
"He wanted to, Elinor. He couldn't. I've thought about it and understand everything."
"You do?"
"Yes. I can explain it perfectly, but you won't be satisfied. I think Mrs. Smith suspects he likes Marianne, disapproves, and wants him to leave. The business she sent him on is just an excuse. He knows she disapproves, so he can't tell her about his engagement with Marianne. He has to give in to her plans and leave Devonshire for a while. You'll say this may or may not have happened, but I won't listen unless you can explain it better. What do you say, Elinor?"
"Nothing, because you've already said what I would have said."
"You would have said it might or might not have happened. You'd rather think the worst. You'd rather think Marianne is miserable and Willoughby is guilty than find an excuse for him. You think he's guilty because he said goodbye with less affection. Don't you allow for mistakes or disappointment? Shouldn't we accept possibilities, even if they're not certainties? Shouldn't we trust a man we love and have no reason to distrust? What if he has reasons that he can't share? What do you think he did?"
"I don't know. But I suspect something unpleasant because he acted so differently. You're right that we should make allowances for him, and I want to be fair. Willoughby may have good reasons for his actions, and I hope he does. But he should have told us right away. I can't help wondering why he's being secretive."
"Don't blame him for acting differently when he has to. Do you agree with my defense? I'm happy, and he's innocent."
"Not completely. It may be right to hide their engagement from Mrs. Smith. If that's the case, Willoughby shouldn't be in Devonshire. But that doesn't excuse them for hiding it from us."
"Hiding it from us? Are you accusing Willoughby and Marianne of hiding something? You've been saying they're too open."
"I know they love each other, but I don't know if they're engaged."
"I'm sure they are."
"But they haven't said anything about it."
"They don't need to say anything when their actions speak so loudly. Hasn't his behavior shown that he loves her and considers her his future wife and that he cares for us like a close relative? Haven't we understood each other? Hasn't he asked for my approval with his looks and actions? Elinor, can you doubt their engagement? How could you think that Willoughby would leave her without telling her he loves her? How could they part without being honest with each other?"
"I agree that everything suggests they're engaged except for their silence. To me, that outweighs everything else."
"This is strange! You must think badly of Willoughby if you can doubt the terms they're on. Has he been acting the whole time? Do you think he doesn't care about her?"
"No, I can't think that. He must love her."
"But he's strangely tender if he can leave her so carelessly."
"Remember, Mom, that I've never been certain about this. I've had my doubts, but they're fading. If they write to each other, I'll have no more fears."
"If you saw them at the altar, you'd think they were getting married. You're ungrateful! But I don't need proof. Nothing has justified doubt. There's been no secrecy. You must suspect Willoughby. But why? Is he not honorable and feeling? Has he done anything wrong? Can he be deceitful?"
"I hope not. I love Willoughby, and it pains me to doubt him. I didn't mean to, and I won't. I was surprised by how he acted this morning. He didn't speak like himself and wasn't kind. But that may be because of the trouble he's in. He had just left my sister, had seen her upset, and if he had to avoid offending Mrs. Smith, he might have been confused. He should have told us his difficulties, but I won't judge him for that."
"You're right. Willoughby doesn't deserve to be suspected. We haven't known him long, but everyone likes him. If he could have acted freely and gotten married right away, it would have been odd to leave without telling me everything, but that's not the case. Their engagement hasn't started well because their marriage is uncertain. Secrecy may be best for now."
Margaret interrupted them, and Elinor could think about what her mother had said and hope it was true.
They didn't see Marianne until dinner. She came in and sat down without speaking. Her eyes were red, and she seemed to be holding back tears. She didn't look at anyone, couldn't eat or speak, and after her mother touched her hand with compassion, she burst into tears and left the room.
She was upset all evening. She couldn't control herself because she didn't want to. Any mention of Willoughby upset her. Her family tried to comfort her, but they couldn't avoid talking about him.
Chapter XV
Marianne would have thought it wrong to sleep after saying goodbye to Willoughby. She would have been ashamed to face her family if she hadn't gotten out of bed more tired than when she got in. However, she was too upset to sleep. She stayed awake and cried all night. She woke up with a headache, couldn't talk, and didn't want to eat. She hurt her family and wouldn't let them comfort her.
After breakfast, she walked alone around Allenham, remembering the past and crying about the present.
She spent the evening indulging her feelings. She played her favorite songs that she used to play for Willoughby, every song they had sung together, and sat at the piano staring at the music he had written for her. She couldn't feel any sadder. She read the books they used to read together to make herself miserable.
She couldn't stay so upset forever. After a few days, she became calmer. However, she still walked alone, meditated, and cried.
Willoughby didn't write, and Marianne didn't seem to expect him to. Her mother was surprised, and Elinor was worried. However, Mrs. Dashwood found reasons for everything.
"Remember, Elinor, that Sir John often gets our mail himself. We've agreed that secrecy may be necessary, and that wouldn't be possible if Sir John knew about their letters."
Elinor agreed and tried to think that was enough reason for their silence. However, she thought of a simple way to find out what was happening and suggested it to her mother.
"Why don't you ask Marianne if she's engaged to Willoughby? She wouldn't be offended by you, her mother. She used to be so open, especially with you."
"I wouldn't ask that for the world. If they weren't engaged, it would upset her. It would be ungenerous. She wouldn't trust me again after I forced her to admit something she doesn't want anyone to know. I know Marianne loves me, and I'll be the first to know when she's ready to tell me. I won't force anyone to confide in me, especially a child. She wouldn't be able to lie because she feels obligated to be truthful."
Elinor thought her mother was too generous and tried to persuade her, but it was no use. Mrs. Dashwood's common sense was lost in her romantic ideals.
Willoughby's name wasn't mentioned in front of Marianne for several days. Sir John and Mrs. Jennings joked about it, which made her feel worse. However, one evening, Mrs. Dashwood picked up Shakespeare and exclaimed, "We never finished Hamlet, Marianne. Our dear Willoughby left before we could get through it. We'll save it for when he comes back— But that may be months."
"Months!"
Chapter XVI
Marianne would have felt terrible if she had been able to sleep after saying goodbye to Willoughby. She would have been ashamed to face her family if she hadn't woken up more exhausted than when she went to bed. But her feelings prevented her from resting. She stayed awake and cried all night. She got up with a headache, couldn't talk, and didn't want to eat. She made her mother and sisters miserable and wouldn't let them comfort her. She was very emotional.
After breakfast, she went for a walk by herself and wandered around Allenham, remembering the past and crying about the present.
She spent the evening indulging her feelings. She played every song she used to play for Willoughby, every song they had sung together, and sat at the piano staring at the music he had written for her until she couldn't feel any sadder. She did this every day. She also read books that reminded her of the past to make herself even more miserable. She only read what they used to read together.
She couldn't stay so upset forever. After a few days, she became calmer. However, she still walked alone, meditated, and cried.
Willoughby didn't write, and Marianne didn't seem to expect him to. Her mother was surprised, and Elinor was worried. However, Mrs. Dashwood found explanations that satisfied herself.
"Remember, Elinor," she said, "Sir John often gets our mail himself. We've agreed that secrecy may be necessary, and that wouldn't be possible if Sir John knew about their letters."
Elinor couldn't argue with that and tried to think it was enough reason for their silence. However, she knew a simple way to find out what was happening and suggested it to her mother.
"Why don't you just ask Marianne if she's engaged to Willoughby? You're her mother, and you're kind. She wouldn't be offended. It's natural to ask. She used to be so open with you."
"I wouldn't ask that for the world. If they weren't engaged, it would upset her. It would be ungenerous. She wouldn't trust me again if I forced her to admit something she doesn't want anyone to know. I know Marianne loves me, and I'll be the first to know when she's ready to tell me. I won't force anyone to confide in me, especially a child. She wouldn't be able to lie because she feels obligated to be truthful."
Elinor thought her mother was too generous and tried to persuade her, but it was no use. Mrs. Dashwood's common sense was lost in her romantic ideals.
Willoughby's name wasn't mentioned in front of Marianne for several days. Sir John and Mrs. Jennings joked about it, which made her feel worse. However, one evening, Mrs. Dashwood picked up Shakespeare and exclaimed, "We never finished Hamlet, Marianne. Our dear Willoughby left before we could get through it. We'll save it for when he comes back— But that may be months."
"Months!" cried Marianne, surprised. "No—not even weeks."
Mrs. Dashwood was sorry, but Elinor was pleased because Marianne showed that she trusted Willoughby and knew his plans.
One morning, about a week after he left, Marianne joined her sisters for their walk instead of wandering off by herself. She had avoided them until then. If her sisters walked on the hills, she went to the valleys. Elinor didn't want her to be alone all the time, so she made her come. They walked through the valley in silence because Marianne was upset. Elinor didn't want to push her. They reached a spot where they could see the road they had traveled when they first came to Barton. They stopped to look at the view.
They saw a man on horseback riding toward them. They realized he was a gentleman. Marianne exclaimed, "It's him! I know it is!" She started to meet him.
Elinor cried out, "Marianne, I think you're wrong. It's not Willoughby. He's not tall enough, and he doesn't have his posture."
"It is," cried Marianne. "His posture, his coat, his horse. I knew he would come soon."
She walked quickly. Elinor wanted to protect Marianne, so she walked with her. They were thirty yards from the gentleman. Marianne looked again, felt sad, and turned back. Her sisters called to her. A third voice, almost as familiar as Willoughby's, asked her to stop. She turned and was surprised to see Edward Ferrars.
He was the only person she could forgive for not being Willoughby. He was the only one who could make her smile. She smiled and forgot her disappointment.
He got off his horse, gave it to his servant, and walked back to Barton with them. He had come to visit them.
They welcomed him, especially Marianne, who was warmer than Elinor. Marianne thought that Edward and her sister were still acting cold, like they had at Norland. Edward didn't act like a lover. He was confused, didn't seem happy, wasn't excited, didn't say much, and didn't show affection to Elinor. Marianne was surprised and began to dislike Edward. She thought of Willoughby, who was very different.
After a silence, Marianne asked Edward if he came from London. He said he had been in Devonshire for two weeks.
"Two weeks!" she repeated, surprised that he hadn't seen Elinor.
He looked upset and said he had been staying with friends near Plymouth.
"Have you been to Sussex recently?" said Elinor.
"I was at Norland about a month ago."
"How does dear Norland look?" cried Marianne.
"Norland probably looks the same as always," said Elinor. "The woods are covered with dead leaves."
"Oh," cried Marianne, "I used to love seeing them fall. I loved seeing them blown around by the wind. Now there's no one to see them with. They're just a nuisance."
"Not everyone loves dead leaves," said Elinor.
"No, people don't often share my feelings. But sometimes they do." She paused. "Edward, here's Barton Valley. Look at it. Look at those hills. Have you ever seen anything like them? To the left is Barton Park, in those woods. You can see the end of the house. And under that hill is our cottage."
"It's beautiful," he replied, "but those lowlands must be muddy in winter."
"How can you think of dirt with such things before you?"
"Because I see a dirty lane."
"How strange," said Marianne to herself.
"Do you like it here? Are the Middletons nice?"
"No, not all of them," answered Marianne. "We're in a bad situation."
"Marianne," cried her sister, "how can you say that? They're a good family, Mr. Ferrars, and they've been friendly to us. Have you forgotten how many good days we've had because of them?"
"No," said Marianne, "or how many bad moments."
Elinor ignored this and tried to talk to Edward about their home. He asked questions, but he was cold. She was annoyed but tried to act normally because they were related.
Chapter XVII
Mrs. Dashwood was only surprised for a moment to see him. She thought it was natural for him to visit Barton. She was very happy. Shyness couldn't last long. He seemed happier before he entered the house, and Mrs. Dashwood's charm made him feel better. A man couldn't love her daughters without loving her. Elinor was glad to see him become more like himself. He seemed to care about them again. However, he wasn't happy. He praised their house and the view and was attentive, but he wasn't happy. The whole family noticed. Mrs. Dashwood blamed his mother and became angry at selfish parents.
"What does Mrs. Ferrars want you to do now, Edward?" she said after dinner. "Are you still going to be a speaker?"
"No. I hope my mother realizes that I don't want a public life."
"How will you become famous? You have to be famous to please your family. You don't like spending money, you don't like strangers, you don't have a job, and you're not confident. That's difficult."
"I won't try. I don't want to be famous. Thank goodness I can't be forced to be smart or speak well."
"You're not ambitious. Your wishes are modest."
"I want to be happy, like everyone else. I want to do it my way. Greatness won't make me happy."
"That's strange," cried Marianne. "What do wealth and grandeur have to do with happiness?"
"Grandeur doesn't have much to do with it," said Elinor, "but wealth does."
"Elinor, shame on you," said Marianne. "Money only makes you happy if you have nothing else. More than enough can't make you happy."
"Perhaps," said Elinor, smiling, "we agree. Your enough and my wealth are the same. Without them, we won't have any comfort. You're just more noble than I am. What's your enough?"
"About eighteen hundred or two thousand a year. Not more."
Elinor laughed. "Two thousand a year! That's my wealth! I knew it."
"Two thousand a year is a modest income," said Marianne. "A family can't live on less. I'm not extravagant. A good staff, a carriage, maybe two, and hunters can't cost less."
Elinor smiled to hear her sister describe their future expenses at Combe Magna.
"Hunters!" repeated Edward. "Why do you need hunters? Not everyone hunts."
Marianne blushed and replied, "But most people do."
"I wish," said Margaret, "that someone would give us a fortune."
"Oh, I wish," cried Marianne, happy at the thought.
"We all wish that," said Elinor, "even though wealth isn't enough."
"Oh dear!" cried Margaret. "I'd be so happy! What would I do with it?"
Marianne knew what she would do.
"I wouldn't know how to spend it," said Mrs. Dashwood, "if my children were rich without my help."
"You could improve this house," said Elinor.
"What would you buy? Books? Music?" Edward asked. "You would buy every new print. Marianne, you would buy all the music and every book about trees."
"I love the past," said Marianne. "It doesn't matter if it's sad or happy. You're right about how I would spend my money."
"You would give it to authors," said Edward.
"No, I would do something else."
"You would reward the person who defended your belief that you can only love once."
"Yes. I won't change my mind."
"Marianne is the same," said Elinor.
"She's just more serious."
"You're not very happy," said Marianne.
"I've never been happy," he replied.
"I didn't think you were lively," said Elinor. "Marianne is earnest and talks a lot, but she's not merry."
"You're right," he replied. "I thought she was lively."
"I often make mistakes about people," said Elinor. "I think they're happier or more intelligent than they are. I don't know why. Sometimes I listen to what they say or what others say. I don't think for myself."
"I thought we should listen to others," said Marianne. "I thought our judgments were just for them. You've always said that."
"No, Marianne. I've never said that. I've always just wanted you to treat people better. I've never said you should agree with them."
"You can't change her mind," said Edward. "Do you make progress?"
"No," replied Elinor.
"I agree with you," he said, "but I act like your sister. I don't want to offend, but I'm shy. I think I'm meant to be with bad company. I'm not comfortable around strangers."
"Marianne isn't shy," said Elinor.
"She's confident," replied Edward. "Shyness is feeling inferior. If I were confident, I wouldn't be shy."
"You would still be reserved," said Marianne, "and that's worse."
Edward started. "Reserved? Am I reserved, Marianne?"
"Yes, very."
"I don't understand," he replied, blushing. "Reserved? How? What do you mean?"
Elinor was surprised at his emotion. She laughed and said, "She just means you don't talk as fast and admire things as much as she does."
Edward didn't answer. He became silent and dull.
Chapter XVIII
Elinor was worried about Edward. He wasn't enjoying himself. He was unhappy, and she didn't know if he still loved her. He was reserved, but then he would look at her in a way that suggested affection.
He joined her and Marianne for breakfast the next morning. Marianne left them alone. Before she reached the stairs, she heard the door open. Edward came out.
"I'm going to see my horses," he said. "I'll be back."
Edward returned and said he admired the countryside. He had seen the valley and the village. Marianne was interested, but Edward said, "Don't ask too much. I don't know about art. I'll offend you if we talk about details. I'll call hills steep when they should be bold. I don't know about beauty. I like the country because it's useful. The hills are steep, the woods have timber, and the valley is comfortable with meadows and farm houses. It's full of rocks, moss, and brush, but I don't see them. I don't know about art."
"That's true," said Marianne. "Why do you brag about it?"
"I think," said Elinor, "that Edward's trying to avoid being pretentious. He thinks people pretend to like nature more than they do, so he pretends to care less than he does. He's trying to be different."
"It's true," said Marianne, "that admiring nature is a joke. Everyone pretends to be tasteful. I hate jokes. Sometimes I don't say what I feel because I can't describe it."
"I think you really like nature," said Edward. "But you have to let me like it less. I don't like twisted trees. I like them tall. I don't like ruined cottages. I don't like weeds. I like farmhouses and happy villages."
Marianne looked amazed at Edward and felt sorry for her sister. Elinor laughed.
They stopped talking about it. Marianne was silent until she noticed a ring on Edward's finger.
"I haven't seen you wear a ring before," she cried. "Is that Fanny's hair? She promised to give you some. But I thought her hair was darker."
Marianne spoke without thinking. She felt bad when she saw that she had hurt Edward. He blushed and glanced at Elinor. "Yes, it's my sister's hair. The setting changes the color."
Elinor knew that the hair was hers. She thought that Edward had stolen it. She didn't think it was an insult and didn't say anything. She decided to look at the hair later to make sure it was hers.
Edward was embarrassed and became quiet. Marianne criticized herself, but she didn't know that she hadn't hurt Elinor.
That morning, Sir John and Mrs. Jennings visited. They had heard that a gentleman was at the cottage and came to see him. Sir John learned that his name began with an F. This gave Elinor another topic for jokes. She just noticed that they seemed to know about her and Edward.
Sir John always invited them to dinner or tea. He wanted to entertain Edward.
"You must have tea with us tonight," he said, "because we'll be alone. You have to have dinner tomorrow because there will be a lot of people."
Mrs. Jennings agreed. "Maybe we'll dance. That will tempt you, Marianne."
"A dance!" cried Marianne. "Who would dance?"
"You, the Careys, and the Whitakers. You thought no one could dance because Willoughby is gone!"
"I wish Willoughby were here again," said Sir John.
This made Edward suspicious. "Who's Willoughby?" he asked Elinor quietly.
She told him. Marianne looked very expressive. Edward realized what was happening. After their visitors left, he said to her, "I've been guessing. Can I tell you?"
"What do you mean?"
"Can I tell you?"
"Yes."
"I guess that Mr. Willoughby hunts."
Marianne was surprised and smiled. After a moment, she said, "Oh, Edward! How can you? But you'll like him."
"I'm sure I will," he replied, surprised at her emotion. He thought it was a joke.
Chapter XIX
Edward stayed at the cottage for a week. Mrs. Dashwood wanted him to stay longer, but he seemed determined to leave. He seemed to enjoy himself, loved the house, and didn't want to go. He said so, but he still had to leave. He valued their kindness and was happiest with them. Yet, he had to leave, even though he had nothing else to do.
Elinor blamed his mother. She was glad that she didn't know her well, so she could blame her for everything. She was disappointed and annoyed, but she tried to be understanding, like her mother had been with Willoughby. She thought his sadness, his secrecy, and his inconsistency were because he wasn't independent and knew his mother. She thought his short visit and his determination to leave were because he had to please his mother. It was duty versus will. She wished she knew when it would end, when Mrs. Ferrars would change, and when Edward could be happy. She comforted herself by remembering that Edward loved her and that he wore her hair in a ring.
"I think, Edward," said Mrs. Dashwood on his last morning, "you would be happier if you had a job. It would take up your time and give you something to do. You wouldn't be able to spend as much time with us, but you would know where to go when you left."
"I've thought about that," he replied. "It's been a misfortune that I haven't had a job. But my friends have made me who I am. We couldn't agree on a job. I wanted to be a priest, but that wasn't good enough for my family. They wanted me to be in the army, but that was too much for me. The law was okay, but I didn't want it. The navy was fashionable, but I was too old. Since I didn't need a job and could be expensive without one, they decided it was best for me to do nothing. I was sent to Oxford and have been idle ever since."
"So, your sons will have many jobs," said Mrs. Dashwood.
"They'll be different from me in every way."
"You're just sad, Edward. You think anyone unlike you must be happy. Everyone feels bad when they leave friends. You're happy. You just need patience. Your mother will give you independence. It's her duty to make you happy. A few months can change everything."
"I don't think anything can help me," replied Edward.
This made everyone sad. Elinor felt especially bad. She tried to hide it, unlike Marianne. They had different goals and did things differently.
Elinor started drawing as soon as he left. She was busy all day, neither seeking nor avoiding his name. She seemed interested in her family. She prevented her grief from growing, and her mother and sisters weren't worried about her.
Marianne didn't think Elinor's behavior was any better than hers. She thought that self-control was easy if you weren't emotional. She knew that Elinor was calm but still loved her.
Elinor didn't shut herself away from her family or lie awake all night. She found time to think about Edward and his behavior in every way possible, with tenderness, pity, approval, criticism, and doubt. When her mother and sisters were gone or busy, she could think about the past and the future.
One morning, soon after Edward left, she was drawing when company arrived. She was alone. She saw a large group walking to the door. Sir John, Lady Middleton, and Mrs. Jennings were there, but there were also two strangers. She sat near the window. Sir John saw her and made her open the window.
"We brought you some strangers. Do you like them?" he said.
"Hush! They'll hear you."
"It's just the Palmers. Charlotte's pretty."
Elinor knew she would see her soon and didn't look.
"Where's Marianne? Did she run away? I see her piano is open."
"She's walking."
Mrs. Jennings told her story. "How are you? How's Mrs. Dashwood? Where are your sisters? You're alone! You'll be glad of company. I brought my other children. I heard a carriage last night, but I didn't think it was them. I thought it was Colonel Brandon."
Elinor had to greet the others. Lady Middleton introduced the strangers. Mrs. Dashwood and Margaret came downstairs. They all sat and looked at each other while Mrs. Jennings told her story.
Mrs. Palmer was younger than Lady Middleton and different. She was short and had a pretty face that showed good humor. She wasn't as elegant as her sister, but she was nicer. She smiled all the time, except when she laughed. Her husband was a serious young man who seemed fashionable and intelligent but wasn't willing to please. He entered the room with a look of importance, bowed, and read a newspaper.
Mrs. Palmer was happy and admired the living room.
"What a great room! It's charming! Mom, it's better than before! It's so sweet! Sister, isn't it delightful? I want a house like this! Don't you, Mr. Palmer?"
Mr. Palmer didn't answer or look up.
"Mr. Palmer doesn't hear me," she said, laughing. "He never does. It's funny."
Mrs. Dashwood had never thought inattentiveness was funny. She looked at them in surprise.
Mrs. Jennings talked loudly about their surprise from the night before. Mrs. Palmer laughed at the memory. Everyone agreed it had been a pleasant surprise.
"We were glad to see them," added Mrs. Jennings, leaning toward Elinor. "But I wish they hadn't traveled so fast. They came by London for business because it was wrong in her condition. I wanted her to rest, but she wanted to see you."
Mrs. Palmer laughed.
"She's due in February," continued Mrs. Jennings.
Lady Middleton asked Mr. Palmer if there was any news in the paper.
"No," he replied and read on.
"Here comes Marianne," cried Sir John. "Palmer, you'll see a pretty girl."
He opened the door and showed her in. Mrs. Jennings asked if she had been to Allenham, and Mrs. Palmer laughed. Mr. Palmer looked at her and returned to his newspaper. Mrs. Palmer saw the drawings and examined them.
"They're charming. They're delightful. Look, Mom, they're sweet. They're charming. I could look at them forever." She sat down and forgot them.
When Lady Middleton left, Mr. Palmer put down his newspaper, stretched, and looked around.
"Were you asleep?" said his wife, laughing.
He didn't answer. He said the room was low and the ceiling was crooked. He bowed and left.
Sir John wanted them to spend the next day at the park. Mrs. Dashwood refused for herself. Her daughters could do what they wanted. They didn't want to see Mr. and Mrs. Palmer eat dinner. They tried to refuse because the weather was bad. However, Sir John insisted. Lady Middleton and Mrs. Jennings also insisted. The young ladies had to give in.
"Why do they ask us?" said Marianne. "The rent is low, but we have to dine at the park whenever anyone visits."
"They're trying to be kind," said Elinor. "Their parties are dull, but that's not their fault."
Chapter XX
The next day, as the Miss Dashwoods entered the drawing room, Mrs. Palmer ran in, looking cheerful. She shook their hands and said she was glad to see them.
"I'm glad you came," she said, sitting between Elinor and Marianne, "because the weather's bad, and we leave tomorrow. We have to go because the Westons are coming. It was sudden. I didn't know until the carriage was coming, and Mr. Palmer asked me if I would go to Barton. He's funny. He never tells me anything. I wish we could stay longer. We'll meet in town soon."
They said they wouldn't be going to town.
"Not go to town!" cried Mrs. Palmer, laughing. "I'll be disappointed. I could get you a nice house next to ours in Hanover Square. You have to come. I'll take you out if Mrs. Dashwood doesn't want to."
They thanked her but refused.
"Honey," cried Mrs. Palmer to her husband, who entered, "help me convince the Miss Dashwoods to come to town."
He didn't answer. After bowing, he complained about the weather.
"This is awful. It makes everything disgusting. Rain makes everything dull. It makes me hate everyone. Why doesn't Sir John have a billiard room? Few people know comfort. Sir John's stupid."
The others came in.
"Miss Marianne," said Sir John, "you couldn't walk to Allenham."
Marianne was serious and didn't say anything.
"Don't be shy," said Mrs. Palmer. "We know. I admire your taste. He's handsome. We live close to him in the country. Ten miles."
"Thirty," said her husband.
"It's the same. I haven't been to his house, but it's pretty."
"It's awful," said Mr. Palmer.
Marianne was silent but interested.
"Is it ugly?" said Mrs. Palmer. "Then I must be thinking of another place."
At dinner, Sir John said he was sorry they were only eight.
"Why didn't you ask the Gilberts?" he said to his wife.
"I told you. They dined with us last time."
"You and I wouldn't care about that," said Mrs. Jennings.
"Then you'd be rude," cried Mr. Palmer.
"Honey, you disagree with everyone," said his wife, laughing. "You're rude."
"I didn't know I was calling your mother rude."
"You can abuse me," said the old lady. "You can't get rid of Charlotte. I win."
Charlotte laughed because her husband couldn't leave her. She said she didn't care how mean he was because they had to live together. She was good-natured and happy. Her husband's rudeness didn't bother her. When he scolded her, she was amused.
"Mr. Palmer's funny," she said to Elinor. "He's always in a bad mood."
Elinor thought he wasn't as mean as he seemed. He was annoyed that he had married a silly woman, but she knew that men got over that. He wanted to seem superior to others. He was common, but he was rude. Only his wife liked him.
"Miss Dashwood," said Mrs. Palmer, "will you visit Cleveland for Christmas? Come when the Westons are here. I'll be happy. It will be delightful. Honey, don't you want the Miss Dashwoods to come to Cleveland?"
"Certainly," he replied sarcastically. "That's why I came to Devonshire."
"See? Mr. Palmer expects you. You have to come."
They refused.
"You have to come. It will be fun. The Westons will be there. Cleveland's a great place. Mr. Palmer's always going around the country campaigning, and so many people are dining with us. It's charming. It's tiring for him because he has to make everyone like him."
Elinor struggled to keep a straight face.
"It will be charming when he's in Parliament!" said Charlotte. "It will be funny to see his letters addressed with M.P. He says he'll never send mail for me. He says he won't."
Mr. Palmer ignored her.
"He hates writing," she continued. "He says it's shocking."
"No," he said, "I never said anything irrational. Don't blame me for your language."
"See how funny he is? He's always like this. Sometimes he won't talk to me for half a day. Then he says something funny."
She surprised Elinor by asking if she liked Mr. Palmer.
"He seems agreeable," said Elinor.
"I'm glad. He's pleased with you and your sisters. He'll be disappointed if you don't come to Cleveland. Why wouldn't you?"
Elinor refused again and changed the subject. She wondered if Mrs. Palmer knew Willoughby well and could tell her about him. She wanted something to ease Marianne's mind. She asked if they saw Willoughby at Cleveland and if they knew him well.
"Oh, yes. I know him well," replied Mrs. Palmer. "I've never spoken to him, but I've seen him in town. I wasn't at Barton when he was at Allenham. Mom saw him here once, but I was at Weymouth. We would have seen him in Somersetshire, but we're never there together. He's rarely at Combe. Even if he was, Mr. Palmer wouldn't visit him because he's in the opposition. I know why you're asking. Your sister's going to marry him. I'm glad. Then she'll be my neighbor."
"You know more than I do," replied Elinor, "if you expect that."
"Don't deny it. Everyone's talking about it. I heard about it in town."
"Mrs. Palmer!"
"I did. I met Colonel Brandon on Bond Street before we left town. He told me."
"You surprise me. Colonel Brandon told you? He wouldn't tell someone who wouldn't care."
"But he did. He walked with us. We talked about my brother and sister. I said to him, 'Colonel, a new family has come to Barton cottage. Mom says they're pretty, and one of them is marrying Mr. Willoughby of Combe Magna. Is it true? You must know because you've been in Devonshire.'"
"What did the Colonel say?"
"He didn't say much, but he looked like he knew. I decided it was true. It will be wonderful. When will it happen?"
"Was Mr. Brandon well?"
"Yes, and he praised you."
"I'm flattered. He seems excellent."
"He is. He's so charming, but he's grave and dull. Mom says he was in love with your sister. That's a compliment because he rarely falls in love."
"Does your part of Somersetshire know Willoughby well?" said Elinor.
"Yes. People think he's agreeable. Everyone likes him. Tell your sister that she's lucky to get him. He's lucky to get her because she's beautiful. I don't think she's much prettier than you. Mr. Palmer agrees, but he won't say it."
Mrs. Palmer's information wasn't important, but it pleased Elinor.
"I'm glad we're friends. I've wanted to see you. It's delightful that you live at the cottage. It's great that your sister will be married. I hope you'll visit Combe Magna. It's a sweet place."
"Have you known Colonel Brandon long?"
"Yes, since my sister married. He was Sir John's friend. I think he would have wanted me. Sir John and Lady Middleton wanted it. But Mom didn't think he was good enough. Otherwise, Sir John would have asked, and we would have married."
"Did Colonel Brandon know about Sir John's plan? Had he told you he loved you?"
"No, but if Mom hadn't objected, he would have liked it. He had only seen me twice. I was at school. However, I'm happier now. Mr. Palmer is the man I like."
Chapter 21
Marianne, who had little patience for rudeness, vulgarity, inferiority, or differing tastes, was in a bad mood and didn't like the Miss Steeles or encourage them. Elinor thought that Marianne's coldness discouraged them, which made them prefer her. Both, especially Lucy, tried to talk to her and become friends by sharing their thoughts.
Lucy was naturally smart, and her comments were often funny. Elinor enjoyed spending time with her, but she wasn't educated. She was ignorant, and Elinor couldn't ignore it, even though Lucy tried to hide it. Elinor felt sorry that she hadn't developed her abilities. However, she didn't like her lack of integrity, which she showed with her flattery at the Park. She couldn't enjoy spending time with someone who was insincere and ignorant, whose lack of education kept them from talking as equals, and whose actions made her attention worthless.
"This is a strange question," Lucy said to her one day as they walked from the park to the cottage, "but do you know your sister-in-law's mother, Mrs. Ferrars?"
Elinor thought it was strange and showed it. She said she had never met Mrs. Ferrars.
"Really?" replied Lucy. "I'm surprised. I thought you would have seen her at Norland. Can you tell me what she's like?"
"No," returned Elinor, not wanting to share her opinion of Edward's mother or satisfy her curiosity. "I don't know her."
"You must think I'm strange to ask," said Lucy, watching Elinor. "But maybe there are reasons. I wish I could tell you, but I hope you know I'm not being rude."
Elinor replied politely, and they walked in silence. Lucy spoke again, hesitantly.
"I don't want you to think I'm curious. I don't want you to think badly of me. I'd be glad to get your advice about my situation, but I don't want to bother you. I wish you knew Mrs. Ferrars."
"I'm sorry I don't," said Elinor, surprised, "if it would help you. I didn't know you were connected to that family. I'm surprised you're so interested in her."
"I'm sure you are. If I could tell you everything, you wouldn't be surprised. Mrs. Ferrars is nothing to me now, but someday we may be close." She looked down, sweetly shy, and glanced at Elinor to see how she reacted.
"Good heavens!" cried Elinor. "What do you mean? Do you know Mr. Robert Ferrars? Are you with him?" She didn't like the idea of that sister-in-law.
"No," replied Lucy, "not Mr. Robert Ferrars. I've never met him. But," she said, looking at Elinor, "I'm with his older brother."
Elinor was shocked. If she hadn't immediately disbelieved Lucy, it would have been painful. She turned to Lucy, amazed. She couldn't understand why she would say that. She remained skeptical and didn't faint.
"You're surprised," Lucy continued. "I'm sure he never told you because it was supposed to be a secret. I've kept it a secret too. Only Anne knows. I wouldn't have told you if I didn't trust you. I thought I should explain why I asked about Mrs. Ferrars. I don't think Mr. Ferrars will be upset that I told you because he thinks highly of your family and sees you as his sisters." She paused.
Elinor was silent. She was shocked, but she spoke carefully. She asked calmly, "How long have you been engaged?"
"Four years."
"Four years!"
"Yes."
Elinor was shocked but couldn't believe it.
"I didn't know you knew each other until recently."
"We've known each other for years. He was with my uncle for a while."
"Your uncle!"
"Yes, Mr. Pratt. Did you ever hear him talk about Mr. Pratt?"
"I think so," replied Elinor, trying to stay calm.
"He was with my uncle, who lives near Plymouth, for four years. That's where we met. My sister and I often stayed with my uncle. That's where we got engaged, but not until a year after he left. He was always with us after that. I didn't want to get engaged without his mother's approval, but I was young and loved him too much. You don't know him as well as I do, but you must know he's capable of making a woman love him."
"Certainly," answered Elinor, not thinking. She added, "Engaged to Mr. Edward Ferrars! I'm surprised. There must be some mistake. We can't mean the same Mr. Ferrars."
"It's him," cried Lucy, smiling. "Mr. Edward Ferrars, the son of Mrs. Ferrars and brother of Mrs. John Dashwood. You can't think I don't know who I'm with."
"It's strange," replied Elinor, "that he's never mentioned you."
"No, it's not strange. We've kept it secret. You didn't know me, so there was no reason to mention me. He was afraid of his sister finding out, so he didn't mention me."
She was silent. Elinor's confidence fell.
"You've been engaged for four years," she said firmly.
"Yes, and heaven knows how much longer we'll have to wait. Poor Edward! It upsets him." She took a miniature from her pocket and added, "Look at this face so you know who I'm talking about. It doesn't do him justice, but you can tell who it is. I've had it for three years."
She showed it to Elinor. Elinor saw that it was Edward. She returned it quickly.
"I haven't been able to give him my picture back. He wants it. I'll have to get it done soon."
"You should," replied Elinor calmly.
They walked in silence. Lucy spoke first.
"I know you'll keep this secret because it's important that his mother doesn't find out. She wouldn't approve. I don't have a fortune, and she's proud."
"I didn't ask you to tell me," said Elinor, "but you can trust me. Your secret's safe. I'm surprised you told me. You must have known it wouldn't make it any safer."
She looked at Lucy, hoping to see that she was lying. However, Lucy didn't change her expression.
"I thought I was bothering you by telling you this. I haven't known you long, but I've heard about you. When I saw you, I felt like I knew you. I had to explain why I asked about Edward's mother. I don't have anyone to ask for advice. Anne knows, but she doesn't have good judgment. I'm afraid she'll tell someone. I worry about it. I don't know how I've survived. Everything's uncertain. We rarely see each other. I wonder my heart hasn't broken."
She took out her handkerchief, but Elinor didn't feel bad for her.
"Sometimes," continued Lucy after wiping her eyes, "I think we should break up." She looked at Elinor. "But then I can't do it. I can't make him miserable. I also care about myself. I don't think I could handle it. What would you do?"
"I can't give you advice," replied Elinor. "You have to decide."
"His mother will provide for him eventually, but Edward's upset about it. Did you think he was sad at Barton? He was sad when he left us to go to you. I was afraid you would think he was sick."
"Did he come from your uncle's when he visited?"
"Yes. He stayed with us for two weeks. Did you think he came from town?"
"No," replied Elinor. "He said he stayed with friends near Plymouth." She remembered that he hadn't said anything else about those friends.
"Didn't you think he was sad?" repeated Lucy.
"Yes, especially when he arrived."
"I told him to act normal so you wouldn't suspect anything, but he was sad that he couldn't stay longer with us and that I was upset. I'm afraid he's still sad. I heard from him before I left Exeter." She showed Elinor a letter. "You know his handwriting. He filled the whole sheet."
Elinor saw that it was his handwriting. She couldn't doubt it anymore. She had thought that the picture might have been a gift, but they were writing to each other. She was almost overwhelmed. She could barely stand. But she had to stay strong. She tried and succeeded.
"Writing to each other is the only comfort we have when we're apart," said Lucy, putting the letter back in her pocket. "I also have his picture, but he doesn't have mine. If he had my picture, he'd be happy. I gave him a lock of my hair in a ring when he was at Longstaple. He said that helped, but it wasn't the same as a picture. Did you notice the ring?"
"I did," said Elinor, hiding her emotion. She was shocked and confused.
They reached the cottage, and the conversation ended. The Miss Steeles returned to the Park. Elinor could think and be miserable.
Chapter 22
Elinor knew Lucy was telling the truth because there was no reason to lie about something like that. She had to believe it. It was supported by evidence and contradicted only by her wishes. They had met at Mr. Pratt's, which explained everything. Edward's visit near Plymouth, his sadness, his behavior, the Miss Steeles' knowledge of Norland, the picture, the letter, and the ring all proved that he had mistreated her. She was angry at first, but then she thought about Edward. Had he been deceiving her? Did he love Lucy? No. She couldn't believe that. He loved her. Her mother, sisters, and Fanny had all seen it. It wasn't her imagination. He loved her. That softened her heart. How could she not forgive him? He had been wrong to stay at Norland after he started to care for her. He couldn't be defended, but he had hurt himself more. She might recover, but he was hopeless. Could he be happy with Lucy? Could he, with his integrity and intelligence, be happy with an ignorant, selfish, and manipulative wife?
When he was nineteen, he might have been blinded by her beauty, but after four years, he must have realized her flaws. She might have lost her simplicity.
If his mother opposed him marrying her, how much worse would it be now? He probably didn't care about family opposition, but it was sad that he would feel relief.
She cried for him more than for herself. She had done nothing wrong, and she believed Edward hadn't lost her respect. She thought she could hide the truth from her family. Two hours after learning everything, she joined them for dinner. No one would have known that she was heartbroken or that Marianne was thinking about Willoughby and waiting for him to arrive.
Elinor had to hide the truth from her family, which was hard, but it also helped her. She didn't have to tell them bad news or listen to them criticize Edward.
She couldn't get advice from them because they would be too emotional. She was better off alone. She was strong and cheerful.
Although she had hated talking to Lucy, she wanted to do it again. She wanted to hear details about their engagement, understand Lucy's feelings, and convince her that she wasn't interested in Edward. She was afraid that Lucy thought she was. Sir John's jokes must have made her suspicious. However, Elinor knew that Edward loved her, so Lucy's jealousy was natural. She knew that Lucy had told her everything to let her know that Edward was hers and to make her stay away from him. She would be honest, control her feelings, and avoid Edward. She wanted to convince Lucy that she wasn't hurt. Since she couldn't hear anything worse than what she already knew, she thought she could talk to Lucy calmly.
However, it wasn't easy. The weather wasn't good enough to walk with Lucy. They met at the park or cottage, but they couldn't talk privately. Sir John and Lady Middleton wouldn't allow it. They met to eat, drink, laugh, play cards, and make noise.
Elinor had been to a few of these meetings without getting a chance to talk to Lucy. One morning, Sir John visited the cottage and said that Lady Middleton was alone except for her mother and the Miss Steeles. He asked them to dine with her. Elinor saw this as a good opportunity to talk to Lucy, so she accepted. Margaret also accepted with her mother's permission. Marianne didn't want to go, but her mother persuaded her.
The young ladies went. Lady Middleton was saved from being alone. The meeting was boring. Elinor hadn't expected anything else. Lady Middleton's children came and made it impossible to talk. They left with the tea things. They were going to play cards. Elinor wondered why she had thought she could talk at the park. They were going to play a game.
"I'm glad you're not finishing Annamaria's basket tonight," said Lady Middleton to Lucy. "Your eyes must hurt from doing filigree by candlelight. We'll make it up to her tomorrow."
Lucy replied, "I was just waiting to see if you needed me. I don't want to disappoint her. If you want me to play cards, I'll finish the basket after supper."
"You're good. I hope it won't hurt your eyes. Ring for candles. My daughter would be upset if the basket wasn't finished, even though I told her it wouldn't be."
Lucy brought her work table closer and acted cheerful. She enjoyed making a basket for a spoiled child.
Lady Middleton suggested a game of Casino. Everyone agreed except Marianne, who said, "I hate cards. I'll play the piano." She left.
Lady Middleton looked shocked.
"Marianne loves the piano," said Elinor. "It's the best piano I've heard."
The others drew their cards.
"If I don't play," continued Elinor, "I can help Miss Lucy Steele. The basket needs a lot of work, and she can't finish it alone. I'd like to help if she'll let me."
"I'd be glad for your help," cried Lucy. "It needs more work than I thought, and I don't want to disappoint Annamaria."
"That would be terrible," said Miss Steele. "I love her."
"You're kind," said Lady Middleton to Elinor. "If you like the work, you can sit out another hand. Or do you want to play now?"
Elinor took the opportunity and sat next to Lucy. The two rivals sat together and worked on the basket. Marianne was playing the piano and had forgotten they were there. Miss Dashwood thought she could talk without being heard.
Chapter 23
Elinor began in a firm voice.
"I wouldn't be worthy of your trust if I didn't want to hear more. I won't apologize for bringing it up again."
"Thank you," cried Lucy. "I was afraid I had offended you on Monday."
"Offended me! How could you think that? Nothing could be further from my mind. Did you have a bad reason for trusting me?"
"I thought you were cold and upset. I thought you were mad at me for bothering you. But I'm glad it was just my imagination and that you don't blame me. It helps to talk about what I'm always thinking about."
"I'm sure it was a relief to tell me and know I won't tell anyone. You're in a bad situation. You need each other's love. Mr. Ferrars depends on his mother."
"He only has two thousand pounds. It would be crazy to marry on that. I could give up everything for him. I'm used to a small income. But I don't want to rob him of what his mother might give him if he married someone she liked. We have to wait for years. That would be scary with anyone else, but I know Edward will always love me."
"That must mean everything to you. He must feel the same way. If you didn't love each other, you'd be miserable after four years."
Lucy looked up, but Elinor was careful not to show anything.
"Edward's love has been tested by our long separation. It's strong, so I can't doubt it now. He's never worried me."
Elinor didn't know whether to smile or sigh.
Lucy continued. "I'm jealous by nature. Because we're different and he's more experienced, I would have found out if he stopped loving me. I would have noticed if he was different, sad, or talked about another woman. I'm not observant, but I would know."
Elinor thought, "This is nice, but it won't fool us."
She said, "What are your plans? Are you just waiting for Mrs. Ferrars to die? That's awful. Does her son agree to wait years rather than anger her by telling the truth?"
"If we knew it would only be for a while! But Mrs. Ferrars is stubborn. She would give everything to Robert. That scares me."
"What about yourself? You're too selfless."
Lucy looked at Elinor and was silent.
"Do you know Mr. Robert Ferrars?" asked Elinor.
"No. I've never met him, but I think he's silly."
"Silly!" repeated Miss Steele, overhearing. "They must be talking about their boyfriends."
"No," cried Lucy. "Our boyfriends aren't silly."
"Miss Dashwood's isn't," said Mrs. Jennings, laughing. "He's nice, but Lucy's sneaky. You can't tell who she likes."
"I bet Lucy's boyfriend is nice too," said Miss Steele.
Elinor blushed. Lucy glared at her sister. They were silent. Lucy said, "I'll tell you a plan. You're involved. Edward wants to be a priest. I want him to take orders and then have your brother give him Norland. It's a good job. Then we can get married and wait for more."
"I'd help Mr. Ferrars, but my help isn't needed. Mrs. John Dashwood is his sister. That's enough."
"But Mrs. John Dashwood wouldn't want Edward to be a priest."
"Then I can't help."
They were silent. Lucy exclaimed, "I should break up with him. We have so many problems. We'd be sad for a while, but we'd be happier in the end. Won't you advise me?"
"No," answered Elinor, smiling. "I won't. You know my opinion wouldn't matter unless it agreed with yours."
"You're wrong," replied Lucy. "I value your judgment. If you told me to break up with Edward, I would."
Elinor blushed because Edward's future wife was insincere. She replied, "That compliment scares me. It's too much power."
"You're not involved," said Lucy, "so you'd be fair. If you cared, your opinion wouldn't matter."
Elinor didn't reply. She didn't want them to get too comfortable. She decided not to mention it again. They were silent. Lucy asked, "Will you be in town this winter?"
"No."
"I'm sorry. It would have been nice to see you. Your brother will ask you.
"I can't accept."
"That's bad. I was counting on meeting you. Anne and I are going to visit relatives in January. I'm just going to see Edward. Otherwise, London isn't appealing. I don't have the energy."
Elinor was called to the card table. The conversation ended. They hadn't made each other dislike each other less. Elinor thought Edward didn't love Lucy and wouldn't be happy, even though love would have helped. Self-interest was making her stay with him.
From then on, Elinor never brought up the subject. When Lucy did, Elinor was calm and cautious. She felt that Lucy didn't deserve her attention and that it was dangerous for her.
The Miss Steeles stayed at Barton Park longer than expected. They were popular. Sir John didn't want them to leave. Despite engagements in Exeter, they stayed almost two months and celebrated Christmas.
Chapter 24
Mrs. Jennings spent most of the year at her children's houses, but she also had her own home. After her husband died, she lived in a house near Portman Square every winter. As January approached, she thought about going home. She asked the elder Misses Dashwood to go with her. Elinor refused for both of them. She said they wouldn't leave their mother. Marianne's expression showed that she didn't agree. Mrs. Jennings was surprised and repeated her invitation.
"Your mother can spare you. Come with me. I want you to. You won't bother me. Betty can take the coach. We can fit in my carriage. In town, if you don't like my activities, you can go with my daughters. Your mother won't object. I got my own children married, so she'll think I can take care of you. I'll get you married. I'll say good things about you to the young men."
"I think Marianne wants to go," said Sir John, "but Miss Dashwood doesn't. You should go to town without telling her."
"I'd be happy to have Marianne," cried Mrs. Jennings. "The more, the merrier. It would be more comfortable for you to be together. If you get tired of me, you can talk to each other. I want one of you. How can I live alone? I'm used to having Charlotte. Marianne, let's agree. If Miss Dashwood changes her mind, great."
"Thank you," said Marianne. "It would make me happy to accept. But my mother—I can't make her unhappy."
Mrs. Jennings said Mrs. Dashwood could spare them. Elinor knew her sister wanted to go. She didn't want Marianne to be alone with Mrs. Jennings or make decisions on her own. She decided to go too. She knew that Edward wouldn't be in town before February, so they could leave before then.
Mrs. Dashwood said they should go. She was sure they would have fun. She said Margaret would improve. She had plans for their bedrooms. She wanted them to see London and be with Mrs. Jennings. She said she would probably see their brother, and despite his faults, she wanted them to be close.
"You're solving every problem," said Elinor, "but there's one objection."
Marianne looked sad.
"What is it?" said Mrs. Dashwood. "Don't mention the cost."
"I think Mrs. Jennings is nice, but her company won't give us pleasure, and her protection won't give us importance."
"That's true," replied her mother, "but you won't be with her much. You'll be with Lady Middleton."
"If Elinor is scared by Mrs. Jennings," said Marianne, "that doesn't mean I can't go. I can handle it."
Elinor smiled at Marianne's indifference to Mrs. Jennings. She decided to go too. She didn't think Marianne should be left to make decisions on her own or that Mrs. Jennings should have to deal with Marianne alone. She remembered that Edward wouldn't be in town until February, so they could leave before then.
"You're both going," said Mrs. Dashwood. "These objections are silly. You'll have fun in London. Elinor will enjoy seeing her sister-in-law's family."
Elinor wanted to lessen her mother's attachment to Edward so that she wouldn't be as upset when she learned the truth. She forced herself to say, "I like Edward, and I'll be glad to see him, but I don't care about the rest of the family."
Mrs. Dashwood smiled. Marianne looked astonished. Elinor knew she should have stayed quiet.
They agreed to accept the invitation. Mrs. Jennings was happy and promised to take care of them. Sir John was delighted because it meant two more people in London. Even Lady Middleton was happy. As for the Miss Steeles, especially Lucy, they had never been so happy.
Elinor agreed to the plan. It didn't matter to her if she went to town. She saw that her mother and sister were happy and didn't want to ruin it.
Marianne was overjoyed. Her spirits were high, and she couldn't wait. She was sad to leave her mother, but at the moment of parting, her grief was extreme. Her mother was also sad. Elinor was the only one who didn't think the separation was permanent.
They left in the first week of January. The Middletons would follow in a week. The Miss Steeles stayed at the park.
Chapter 25
Elinor couldn't believe that she was in a carriage with Mrs. Jennings on her way to London. They had only known each other for a short time, were very different, and she had objected to this just days before. But young people like Marianne and her mother ignored problems. Elinor couldn't help but compare her own bleak future to Marianne's hope that she would see Willoughby. She decided to learn everything she could about his character and watch how he treated Marianne. If he was bad, she would tell her sister. Otherwise, she would be happy for her and forget about her own sadness.
They were three days on their journey. Marianne was quiet, lost in thought, and only spoke to Elinor when she saw something beautiful. Elinor made up for this by paying attention to Mrs. Jennings. Mrs. Jennings was kind and wanted them to enjoy themselves. She was upset that she couldn't make them choose their own dinners or admit that they liked salmon better than cod. They reached town on the third day, happy to be out of the carriage and ready to enjoy a fire.
The house was handsome, and the young ladies were given a comfortable room. It had been Charlotte's room, and there was still a landscape she had made, proving that she had learned something at school.
Dinner wouldn't be ready for two hours, so Elinor decided to write to her mother. Marianne did the same. "I'm writing home, Marianne," said Elinor. "Shouldn't you wait a day or two?"
"I'm not writing to my mother," replied Marianne quickly.
Elinor didn't say anything. She realized that she must be writing to Willoughby. That meant they must be engaged. This pleased her, and she continued her letter. Marianne finished quickly, folded it, sealed it, and addressed it. Elinor saw a large W in the address. Marianne rang the bell and asked the footman to take the letter to the post. This confirmed it.
Marianne was excited, but she was also restless, which worried Elinor. She barely ate dinner. She listened for carriages.
Mrs. Jennings was busy in her room and didn't notice. Marianne had been disappointed by raps at other doors. Then she heard a loud rap that had to be at their house. Elinor knew it was Willoughby. Marianne rushed to the door, listened, and returned, exclaiming, "Oh, Elinor, it's Willoughby!" She almost threw herself into his arms when Colonel Brandon appeared.
It was too much for her, and she left the room. Elinor was disappointed too. However, she liked Colonel Brandon and felt bad that Marianne was rude to him. She saw that he noticed and was concerned. He barely remembered to be polite to her.
"Is your sister ill?" he said.
Elinor said she had a headache and was tired.
He listened but didn't say anything about it. He asked about their trip and their friends.
They talked with little interest. Elinor wanted to ask if Willoughby was in town, but she didn't want to upset him. She asked if he had been in London since she saw him last. "Yes," he replied, embarrassed, "almost. I went to Delaford for a few days, but I couldn't return to Barton."
She remembered him leaving Barton and Mrs. Jennings's suspicions. She worried that she had asked too much.
Mrs. Jennings came in. "Oh, Colonel, I'm glad to see you. Sorry I didn't come sooner. I had to settle my affairs. It's been a while since I was home. I've been busy. But, Colonel, how did you know I would be in town today?"
"I heard it at Mr. Palmer's, where I dined."
"How are they? How's Charlotte? She must be big by now."
"Mrs. Palmer was well. She said you'll see her tomorrow."
"I thought so. Colonel, I brought two young ladies. You see one, but there's another. Your friend, Miss Marianne, too. You and Mr. Willoughby can fight over her. It's good to be young and handsome. I was young once, but I wasn't pretty. I got a good husband. He's been dead for eight years. Colonel, where have you been? How's business? No secrets."
He replied politely but didn't say much. Elinor began to make tea. Marianne had to return.
After she came in, Colonel Brandon was quiet. Mrs. Jennings couldn't get him to stay long. No one else visited. The ladies went to bed early.
Marianne woke up happy. She seemed to have forgotten the disappointment from the night before. They finished breakfast, and Mrs. Palmer's carriage arrived. She came in, laughing. She was happy to see them. It was hard to tell if she was happier to see her mother or the Miss Dashwoods. She was surprised they had come to town, even though she had expected it. She was angry they had accepted her mother's invitation instead of hers, but she would have been upset if they hadn't come.
"Mr. Palmer will be happy to see you. What did he say when he heard you were coming with Mom? I forget, but it was funny."
They spent a few hours chatting. Then Mrs. Palmer suggested they go shopping. Mrs. Jennings and Elinor agreed because they needed to buy things. Marianne didn't want to go, but she was persuaded.
She was always on the lookout. On Bond Street, she looked everywhere. In every shop, she was distracted. She didn't care about anything. She wanted to go home and was annoyed by Mrs. Palmer, who liked everything pretty, expensive, or new. She wanted to buy everything but couldn't decide.
They returned home late in the morning. Marianne ran upstairs. Elinor followed and found her looking sad. No Willoughby had been there.
"Has there been a letter for me?" she said to the footman.
He said no.
"Are you sure? Did a servant leave a letter or note?"
The man said no.
"How odd," she said quietly and turned to the window.
"How odd," thought Elinor. "If she didn't know he was in town, she wouldn't have written. If he is in town, why hasn't he come or written? Mother, you were wrong to allow this engagement to continue in this way. I want to ask, but how will she react?"
She decided that if things continued to be bad, she would tell her mother that they needed to investigate.
Mrs. Palmer and two of Mrs. Jennings's friends dined with them. Mrs. Palmer left after tea. Elinor had to help make a card table. Marianne didn't play, so she walked around the room, hoping for a rap at the door.
Chapter 26
Marianne would have thought it wrong to sleep after saying goodbye to Willoughby. She would have been ashamed to face her family if she hadn't gotten out of bed more tired than when she got in. However, she was too upset to sleep. She stayed awake and cried all night. She got up with a headache, couldn't talk, and didn't want to eat. She made her mother and sisters miserable and wouldn't let them comfort her.
After breakfast, she walked alone around Allenham, remembering the past and crying about the present.
She spent the evening indulging her feelings. She played her favorite songs that she used to play for Willoughby, every song they had sung together, and sat at the piano staring at the music he had written for her. She couldn't feel any sadder. She read the books they used to read together to make herself miserable.
She couldn't stay so upset forever. After a few days, she became calmer. However, she still walked alone, meditated, and cried.
Willoughby didn't write, and Marianne didn't seem to expect him to. Her mother was surprised, and Elinor was worried. However, Mrs. Dashwood found explanations that satisfied herself.
"Remember, Elinor," she said, "Sir John often gets our mail himself. We've agreed that secrecy may be necessary, and that wouldn't be possible if Sir John knew about their letters."
Elinor couldn't argue with that and tried to think it was enough reason for their silence. However, she thought of a simple way to find out what was happening and suggested it to her mother.
"Why don't you just ask Marianne if she's engaged to Willoughby? You're her mother, and you're kind. She wouldn't be offended. It's natural to ask. She used to be so open with you."
"I wouldn't ask that for the world. If they weren't engaged, it would upset her. It would be ungenerous. She wouldn't trust me again if I forced her to admit something she doesn't want anyone to know. I know Marianne loves me, and I'll be the first to know when she's ready to tell me. I won't force anyone to confide in me, especially a child. She wouldn't be able to lie because she feels obligated to be truthful."
Elinor thought her mother was too generous and tried to persuade her, but it was no use. Mrs. Dashwood's common sense was lost in her romantic ideals.
Willoughby's name wasn't mentioned in front of Marianne for several days. Sir John and Mrs. Jennings joked about it, which made her feel worse. However, one evening, Mrs. Dashwood picked up Shakespeare and exclaimed, "We never finished Hamlet, Marianne. Our dear Willoughby left before we could get through it. We'll save it for when he comes back— But that may be months."
"Months!" cried Marianne, surprised. "No—not even weeks."
Mrs. Dashwood was sorry, but Elinor was pleased because Marianne showed that she trusted Willoughby and knew his plans.
One morning, about a week after he left, Marianne joined her sisters for their walk instead of wandering off by herself. She had avoided them until then. If her sisters walked on the hills, she went to the valleys. Elinor didn't want her to be alone all the time, so she made her come. They walked through the valley in silence because Marianne was upset. Elinor didn't want to push her. They reached a spot where they could see the road they had traveled when they first came to Barton. They stopped to look at the view.
They saw a man on horseback riding toward them. They realized he was a gentleman. Marianne exclaimed, "It's him! I know it is!" She started to meet him.
Elinor cried out, "Marianne, I think you're wrong. It's not Willoughby. He's not tall enough, and he doesn't have his carriage."
"It is," cried Marianne. "His posture, his coat, his horse. I knew he would come soon."
She walked quickly. Elinor wanted to protect Marianne, so she walked with her. They were thirty yards from the gentleman. Marianne looked again, felt sad, and turned back. Her sisters called to her. A third voice, almost as familiar as Willoughby's, asked her to stop. She turned and was surprised to see Edward Ferrars.
Chapter 27
"If this nice weather lasts much longer," said Mrs. Jennings at breakfast the next morning, "Sir John won't want to leave Barton next week. It's too bad for sportsmen to miss a day of hunting. I always feel bad for them. They take it so hard."
"That's right," cried Marianne cheerfully, walking to the window to check the weather. "I hadn't thought of that. This weather will keep many sportsmen in the country."
It was a lucky thought, and all her good spirits returned. "They must be enjoying it," she continued, sitting down happily. "But" (sounding anxious again) "it can't last long. At this time of year, after so much rain, we won't have much more. It will freeze soon, probably. Maybe in a day or two. This mildness can't last. Maybe it will freeze tonight!"
"We'll probably have Sir John and Lady Middleton in town by the end of next week," said Elinor, trying to distract Mrs. Jennings.
"I'm sure we will. Mary always gets her way."
"She'll write to Combe today," thought Elinor.
Whether she did or not, she hid it well. Elinor was still worried, but she was glad to see Marianne cheerful. Marianne was happy about the weather and excited about a possible freeze.
They spent the morning leaving cards to tell Mrs. Jennings's acquaintances she was in town. Marianne looked for Willoughby. She watched the wind, the sky, and imagined the weather changing.
"Don't you think it's colder, Elinor? I think it's different. I can't keep my hands warm. It wasn't like this yesterday. The clouds are parting, the sun will come out, and we'll have a clear afternoon."
Elinor was amused and pained. Marianne kept seeing signs of frost.
The Miss Dashwoods liked Mrs. Jennings's lifestyle. Everything was lavish. Except for a few city friends, whom Lady Middleton didn't like, she didn't visit anyone who would bother her young companions. Elinor was happy about that. She didn't enjoy the card parties.
Colonel Brandon visited almost every day. He came to see Marianne and talk to Elinor. Elinor enjoyed talking to him, but she was concerned that he still liked her sister. She feared he cared more than before. It saddened her to see him watch Marianne and be so gloomy.
A week after they arrived, they learned that Willoughby was in town. His card was on the table when they returned from their drive.
"Good God!" cried Marianne. "He was here while we were out."
Elinor was glad he was in London and said, "He'll come again tomorrow."
Marianne barely heard her. She took the card and left.
This cheered Elinor up. However, it made Marianne more agitated. The thought of seeing him made her unfit for anything. She insisted on staying behind the next morning.
Elinor wondered what was happening on Berkeley Street. When they returned, she saw that Willoughby hadn't visited. A note was brought in.
"For me!" cried Marianne.
"No, ma'am, for my mistress."
Marianne grabbed it.
"It's for Mrs. Jennings. How annoying!"
"You're expecting a letter?" said Elinor.
"Yes, a little—not much."
After a pause, "You don't trust me, Marianne."
"Elinor, you don't trust anyone!"
"I have nothing to tell."
"Neither do I. We're the same. You don't share, and I hide nothing."
Elinor felt bad that she couldn't explain. She didn't know how to ask Marianne to be more open.
Mrs. Jennings came in. She read the note. It was from Lady Middleton. They had arrived in Conduit Street. She invited her mother and cousins to visit the next evening. Sir John had business, and she had a cold, so they couldn't visit Berkeley Street. They accepted. However, when it was time to go, Elinor had trouble persuading Marianne to come. She still hadn't seen Willoughby and didn't want to miss him or risk him visiting while she was gone.
Chapter 28
Elinor knew that she had to be polite to Mrs. Jennings. She arrived at the party. It was crowded and hot. They said hello to Lady Middleton, mingled with the crowd, and dealt with the heat. Lady Middleton played cards. Marianne didn't want to move, so she and Elinor sat near the table.
Elinor saw Willoughby talking to a fashionable woman. He bowed but didn't speak to her or approach Marianne, even though he saw her. Elinor turned to Marianne to see if she had noticed. Marianne had just seen him. Her face glowed. She would have gone to him, but Elinor stopped her.
"Please, be calm. Don't let everyone know how you feel. Maybe he hasn't seen you yet."
Elinor didn't believe that. Marianne couldn't be calm. She was restless.
He turned again and looked at them. She stood up and called his name. She held out her hand. He approached, spoke to Elinor instead of Marianne, and asked about Mrs. Dashwood. Elinor was speechless. Marianne exclaimed, "Willoughby, what does this mean? Did you not get my letters? Won't you shake hands with me?"
He had to. It seemed painful to him. He held her hand briefly. He was trying to stay calm. Elinor watched his expression relax. He said, "I called in Berkeley Street last Tuesday, but you weren't home. I hope my card wasn't lost."
"Did you not receive my notes?" cried Marianne. "There's a mistake. What's happening?"
He didn't reply. He changed color. He looked at the woman he had been talking to and composed himself. He said, "Yes, I received your message about your arrival" and left with a bow.
Marianne looked pale and sank into her chair. Elinor tried to protect her and revive her.
"Go to him, Elinor," she cried. "Make him come to me. Tell him I have to see him. I can't rest until this is explained. Go to him now."
"I can't. You have to wait. This isn't the place. Wait until tomorrow."
She couldn't stop her from following him. It was impossible to persuade her to be calm and wait. Marianne continued to be miserable. Soon Elinor saw Willoughby leave. She told Marianne and said it was impossible to speak to him again that night. She begged her to be calm. She asked Lady Middleton to take them home because she was too miserable to stay.
Lady Middleton agreed. They left. No one spoke on the way home. Marianne was in agony. Mrs. Jennings wasn't home, so they went to their room. Hartshorn made Marianne feel better. She wanted to be alone, so Elinor left. She had time to think.
She knew that Marianne and Willoughby had been together and that Willoughby was tired of it. She felt bad for both of them.
Chapter 29
Before the fire was lit, Marianne was kneeling by the window, writing. Elinor woke up and saw her. She asked gently, "Marianne, can I ask—?"
"No, Elinor," she replied. "Don't ask. You'll know everything soon."
She said this calmly, but then she started crying again. She couldn't write. She was probably writing to Willoughby for the last time.
Elinor paid attention to her. She would have soothed her, but Marianne begged her not to speak. They shouldn't be together. Marianne wanted to be alone and kept moving. She avoided everyone.
At breakfast, she didn't eat. Elinor distracted Mrs. Jennings.
Mrs. Jennings talked for a long time. They were about to start working when a letter came for Marianne. She grabbed it and turned pale. She ran out of the room. Elinor saw that it was from Willoughby. She felt sick and trembled. She was afraid Mrs. Jennings would notice. However, Mrs. Jennings thought it was funny and laughed. She said,
"I never saw a woman so in love! My girls weren't like that. I hope he marries her soon. She looks sick. When will they marry?"
Elinor forced herself to reply, "I don't think they're engaged. I would be surprised to hear that they're going to marry."
"Don't say that. Everyone knows they're in love. I saw them in Devonshire every day. Your sister came to town to buy wedding clothes. You can't fool me. It's all over town. I tell everyone, and so does Charlotte."
"You're wrong," said Elinor. "It's unkind to spread rumors. You'll see."
Mrs. Jennings laughed. Elinor left and went to their room. She saw Marianne crying, with letters on the bed. Elinor sat down, took her hand, kissed her, and cried. Marianne put the letters into Elinor's hands and screamed. Elinor watched her until she calmed down. She read Willoughby's letter:
"Bond Street, January.
MY DEAR MADAM, I have received your letter, for which I thank you. I regret that my behavior last night was not to your liking. I don't know how I offended you, but I apologize. I'll always remember my time in Devonshire. I hope we can still be friends. I value your family. If I made you think I felt more than esteem, I shouldn't have said so much. You know it's impossible for me to have meant more, because I'm engaged to someone else, and I'll be married soon. I'm sorry to return your letters and your hair.
Yours truly, JOHN WILLOUGHBY."
Elinor was angry. She knew he was unfaithful, but she didn't know he could be so cruel. He didn't apologize. He denied everything. His letter was an insult. He was a villain.
She reread it. She hated him more. She didn't speak so she wouldn't hurt Marianne. She didn't want to say that he wasn't worth her time. She wanted to say that it was good she was rid of him.
In her thoughts, Elinor forgot Marianne and the letters on her lap. She heard a carriage and saw that it was Mrs. Jennings's, which wasn't supposed to arrive until one. She didn't want to leave Marianne, so she hurried to explain to Mrs. Jennings that her sister was sick. Mrs. Jennings was concerned and agreed. Elinor returned to Marianne. She was trying to get out of bed. Elinor stopped her from falling. She was faint because she hadn't slept or eaten.
A glass of wine made her feel better. She said, "Poor Elinor! I make you unhappy!"
"I wish I could help you."
Marianne said, "Oh, Elinor, I'm miserable" and cried.
Elinor said, "Try, Marianne. Think of your mother. You must try for her."
"I can't. Leave me, hate me, forget me! Don't torture me. It's easy for you to talk about trying because you don't have sorrow. Happy Elinor, you don't know what I suffer."
"Do you call me happy, Marianne? I see you're sad!"
"Forgive me. I know you care, but you must be happy. Edward loves you. Nothing can take that away."
"Many things," said Elinor.
"No," cried Marianne, "he loves you. You can't grieve."
"I can't enjoy myself when you're sad."
"You'll never see me otherwise. Nothing can take away my misery."
"Don't say that, Marianne. Have you no comforts? no friends? Can't you be consoled? You're suffering now, but think how you would have suffered if you had found out later."
"Engagement!" cried Marianne, "there was no engagement."
"No engagement!"
"No, he's not that bad. He didn't break any promises."
"But he told you he loved you."
"Yes—no—never really. He implied it, but he never said it. Sometimes I thought he had, but he didn't."
"Yet you wrote to him?"
"Yes. Was that wrong after everything that happened? But I can't talk."
Elinor didn't say anything. She reread the letters. The first, sent after they arrived in town, said:
Berkeley Street, January.
"Willoughby, you'll be surprised to get this. You'll be more than surprised when you know I'm in town. I couldn't resist coming here with Mrs. Jennings. I hope you get this soon. I expect you tomorrow. Goodbye.
M.D."
Her second note, written after the dance, said:
"I was disappointed to miss you and surprised that you didn't answer my note from a week ago. I've been waiting to hear from you and see you. Call again soon. We're usually out by one. We were at Lady Middleton's last night, where there was a dance. I heard you were invited. Can that be true if you weren't there? I want you to tell me it's not true.
M.D."
Her last note said:
"Willoughby, why did you act that way last night? I want an explanation. I wanted to see you and be friendly, but you rejected me. I've been trying to excuse it. Tell me what happened. Did someone lie about me? Tell me. I want to think well of you. If you don't love me, return my notes and my hair.
M.D."
Elinor didn't want to believe that Willoughby could send such a letter. She also thought it was wrong to have written the letters at all. She grieved that Marianne had shown so much affection without knowing what Willoughby felt.
Chapter 30
Mrs. Jennings came to their room with real concern, without waiting to be invited.
"How are you, dear?" she asked Marianne with compassion. Marianne turned away without answering.
"How is she, Miss Dashwood? Poor thing! She looks awful. It's no wonder. It's true. He's getting married soon—a worthless guy! I can't stand him. Mrs. Taylor told me half an hour ago. A friend of Miss Grey's told her. I wouldn't have believed it otherwise. I almost fainted. I said, if this is true, he's treated a friend of mine terribly, and I hope his wife makes him miserable. I'll always say that. I hate men like that. There's one comfort, Marianne: he's not the only man in the world. With your looks, you'll always have admirers. I won't bother her anymore. She should cry and get it over with. The Parrys and Sandersons are coming tonight. That will help."
She left, tiptoeing, as if noise would make her friend feel worse.
Marianne surprised Elinor by deciding to have dinner with them. Elinor advised her not to, but she said, "No, I'll go down. The activity will distract me." Elinor was glad she was being guided by reason and helped her dress.
At dinner, she looked terrible but ate more and was calmer than Elinor expected. If she had spoken or noticed Mrs. Jennings's attempts to comfort her, she couldn't have been calm. She didn't say a word and didn't notice anything.
Elinor appreciated Mrs. Jennings's kindness, even though it was often upsetting and ridiculous. She thanked her for her sister. Their friend saw that Marianne was unhappy and did everything she could to help. She treated her like a favorite child on her last day of vacation. Marianne was going to have the best seat by the fire, eat every delicacy, and hear all the news. Elinor could have been amused by Mrs. Jennings's attempts to cure heartbreak with sweets and a fire if Marianne's face hadn't stopped her. When Marianne noticed, she couldn't stay any longer. She cried "Misery!" and left the room.
"Poor soul!" cried Mrs. Jennings. "It hurts to see her! She didn't finish her wine or her cherries! Nothing helps her. If I knew anything she wanted, I'd get it. It's odd that a man would treat such a pretty girl so badly! But when one has money and the other doesn't, they don't care about such things!"
"Miss Grey is rich?"
"Fifty thousand pounds. Have you seen her? She's stylish but not pretty. I remember her aunt, Biddy Henshawe. She married a rich man. The family is all rich. He needs the money. He's a mess. He's wasting his money with his carriage and hunters. A young man shouldn't break his promise just because he's poor and a richer girl wants him. He should sell his horses, rent his house, and fire his servants. Marianne would have waited. But young men won't give up pleasure."
"What's Miss Grey like? Is she nice?"
"I never heard anything bad about her. Mrs. Taylor said that Miss Walker hinted that the Ellisons wanted Miss Grey married because she and Mrs. Ellison didn't get along."
"Who are the Ellisons?"
"Her guardians. Now she's old enough to choose. She's made a choice! Your sister's in her room, moaning. Can't we comfort her? It's cruel to let her be alone. We'll have friends over tonight. That will help. What should we play? She hates whist. What game does she like?"
"This is unnecessary. Marianne won't leave her room. I'll tell her to go to bed. She needs rest."
"That's best. Let her name her supper and go to bed. She's looked awful for weeks. I didn't know why. The letter finished it! I shouldn't have joked with her about it. But how could I know? I thought it was a love letter. Young people like to be teased. Sir John and my daughters will be concerned when they hear. I should have told them in Conduit Street. I'll see them tomorrow."
"Don't tell Mrs. Palmer and Sir John about Mr. Willoughby. They'll talk about it in front of my sister. Their good nature must tell them not to. Don't say anything to me. It will spare my feelings."
"I will. It must be terrible to hear it talked about. I wouldn't mention it to your sister. Sir John and my daughters won't either. I'll tell them. It's better to forget such things. What good does talking do?"
"Talking can only hurt. Willoughby didn't break a promise."
"Don't defend him. No promise, after taking her to Allenham House and picking out their rooms!"
Elinor couldn't say more. She hoped she didn't have to defend Willoughby because it wouldn't help Marianne. After a silence, Mrs. Jennings said,
"It's good for Colonel Brandon. He'll get her. They'll be married by midsummer. He'll be happy. It's better for your sister. Two thousand a year without debt—except the child. She can be apprenticed. Delaford is nice. It's old-fashioned, comfortable, and surrounded by a garden wall with fruit trees. There's a mulberry tree, a dove-cote, stew-ponds, and a canal. It's close to the church and a turnpike-road, so it's never dull. You can sit in an arbor and see the carriages. It's nicer than Barton Park, where they have to send three miles for meat and don't have neighbors. I'll encourage the Colonel. Willoughby will be forgotten."
"If we can do that, we'll be fine with or without Colonel Brandon." Elinor left and joined Marianne in her room. She was leaning over a fire.
"Leave me," she said.
"I will if you go to bed."
She refused, but her sister persuaded her. Elinor saw her lie down to rest and left.
In the drawing room, Mrs. Jennings joined her with a wine-glass.
"I remembered I have Constantia wine. I brought a glass for your sister. My husband loved it. He said it helped his gout. Take it to your sister."
"Thank you, but Marianne's in bed. I'll drink it."
Mrs. Jennings regretted that she wasn't there sooner and accepted the compromise. Elinor drank it and thought that it might help a broken heart.
Colonel Brandon came in. Elinor knew he didn't expect or want to see Marianne. She knew he knew what was happening. Mrs. Jennings whispered, "The Colonel looks grave. He doesn't know. Tell him."
He sat next to her and asked about her sister.
"Marianne isn't well. She's been sick all day, and we made her go to bed."
"Maybe what I heard this morning—it may be true."
"What did you hear?"
"A gentleman—I knew he was engaged—but how can I tell you? If you know, I don't have to."
"You mean Willoughby's marriage to Miss Grey. We know. This morning we found out. Willoughby is confusing. Where did you hear it?"
"At a stationer's shop in Pall Mall. Two ladies were talking about the wedding. I couldn't help but hear. The name of Willoughby caught my attention. They said it was settled. It would happen in a few weeks. After the ceremony, they were going to Combe Magna. One of the ladies was Mrs. Ellison, Miss Grey's guardian."
"It is. Did you hear that Miss Grey has fifty thousand pounds? That explains it."
"Maybe. But Willoughby might be capable—I think—" He stopped. "How's your sister?"
"Her suffering has been severe. I hope it will be short. It's been awful. Until yesterday, she loved him. I think he never loved her. He's deceitful and cold."
"There is. Your sister doesn't see it that way?"
"You know her. She'll try to justify him."
He didn't answer. He stood up. "I wish your sister happiness. I hope Willoughby tries to deserve her." He left.
Elinor didn't feel better. She was sad about Colonel Brandon. She couldn't wish for him to be happy because that would hurt Marianne.
Chapter 31
Marianne woke up to misery.
Elinor encouraged her to talk. Before breakfast, they talked again. Elinor gave advice, and Marianne changed her mind. Sometimes she thought Willoughby was innocent. Other times, she hated him. Sometimes she didn't care what people thought. Other times, she wanted to be alone. She was consistent in avoiding Mrs. Jennings and being silent. She didn't think Mrs. Jennings cared.
"No, she can't. She can't feel. Her kindness isn't sympathy. She just wants gossip. She likes me because I give her gossip."
Elinor knew that Marianne was being unfair. She judged people by their actions.
A letter came. Mrs. Jennings was happy and entered their room.
"I have something that will make you feel better."
Marianne knew it was from Willoughby. She imagined a letter where he apologized. She imagined him rushing in to explain. The moment was ruined. It was from her mother. She cried. She couldn't speak.
Mrs. Jennings pitied her and left.
Marianne's mother wrote that she still thought Willoughby was good and wanted her to be open. She loved Marianne and Willoughby and thought they would be happy. She cried as she wrote it.
Marianne wanted to go home. Her mother was dear to her. She was wrong about Willoughby, but Marianne loved her. She wanted to leave. Elinor didn't know if London or Barton was better. She said they should wait for their mother's advice. Marianne agreed.
Mrs. Jennings left early because she wanted the Middletons and Palmers to grieve. She refused Elinor's help. Elinor felt bad and wrote to her mother. She told her what had happened and asked for advice. Marianne remained at the table, watching Elinor and thinking about their mother.
Marianne was startled by a knock.
"Who is it?" cried Elinor. "It's early. I thought we were safe."
Marianne moved to the window.
"It's Colonel Brandon!" she said. "We're never safe from him."
"He won't come in. Mrs. Jennings isn't home."
"I don't trust that." She went to her room. "A man who has time on his hands bothers others."
She was right. Colonel Brandon came in. Elinor knew he was there for Marianne. She couldn't forgive her for thinking badly of him.
"I met Mrs. Jennings in Bond Street," he said. "She told me to come. I wanted to find you alone. I want to help. I want to give conviction to your sister. I care about her, you, and your mother. Let me help. I'm justified. But I've spent so long convincing myself that I'm right. Am I wrong?"
He stopped.
"I understand. You have something to tell me about Mr. Willoughby that will explain him. Telling it will be a kindness. I'll be grateful. Please tell me."
"I will be brief. When I left Barton last October—but I need to go back further. I'm bad at telling stories. I'll tell you about myself. I don't want to talk about myself." He sighed.
He paused. "You remember our conversation at Barton Park. The night of a dance. I said a lady resembled Marianne."
"I remember it."
He was pleased. "She was like her in mind and body. The same warmth, the same imagination. She was my relative, an orphan. We grew up together. I always loved Eliza. She loved me like Marianne loves Willoughby. It was unfortunate. At seventeen, I lost her forever. She married my brother against her will. She had a large fortune, and our estate was in debt. My brother didn't deserve her. I hoped she would be happy. She wasn't. She was mistreated. She promised me that nothing—I shouldn't say this. We were going to elope to Scotland. My cousin's maid betrayed us. I was sent away. She had no freedom. My father got his way. I thought she was strong, but she wasn't. If she had been happy, I would have gotten over it. My brother didn't care about her. He was unkind. She became unhappy. She couldn't handle it. Had I stayed in England—I tried to help by leaving. The shock of her marriage was nothing compared to her divorce two years later. That made me gloomy. Even now I remember it—"
He stopped and walked around. Elinor was touched. He took her hand and kissed it. He started again.
"I returned to England three years later. I looked for her. I couldn't find her. I thought she had become a prostitute. Her allowance wasn't enough. She had given it to someone else. After six months, I found her in a debtor's prison. She was worn down. I barely recognized her. I can't describe it. She was dying of consumption. That was my comfort. Life couldn't help her. She had time to prepare for death. I found her a place and visited her. I was with her when she died."
He stopped. Elinor said she was concerned.
"I hope your sister isn't offended by the resemblance. Their fates can't be the same. If she had been stronger or had a happier marriage, she would have been all that you will be. But what does this mean? I shouldn't have told you this. I've been silent for fourteen years. It's dangerous. I'll be brief. She left her child, a three-year-old girl, with me. She loved the child. I cared for her. I wanted to watch over her, but I couldn't. I had no family, so she was placed at school. I saw her there. After my brother died, she visited me at Delaford. I called her a relative, but people thought she was my daughter. Three years ago, she was fourteen. I sent her to a respectable woman in Dorsetshire. I was pleased. Last February, she disappeared. I let her go to Bath with a friend. I shouldn't have. I thought her friend was good. She wouldn't tell me anything. Her father was a good man, but he didn't know. He was confined to the house. I learned nothing. For eight months, I wondered what happened. What did I suffer?"
"Could it be—could Willoughby!"—cried Elinor.
"I got a letter from her last October. It was sent from Delaford. I got it on the morning of the Whitwell party. That's why I left Barton. Mr. Willoughby probably thought I was rude, but I was helping someone he had hurt. If he had known, would he have cared? Would he have been less happy with your sister? He had already seduced and abandoned the girl. He had left her with nothing, without telling her where he was. He promised to return, but he didn't write or help her."
"This is awful!" exclaimed Elinor.
"His character is before you. He's wasteful, dissipated, and worse. I've known this for weeks. I was worried about your sister. I wanted to know the truth, but I didn't know what to do. I was strange. I hope you understand. I wanted to stop you from being deceived. What were his plans for her? She should be grateful for her situation when she compares it to Eliza's. She should think about this poor girl with a broken heart and self-reproach. She'll feel her own sufferings are nothing. They're not her fault and won't bring disgrace. Her friends will care about her. Be careful how you tell her. I hope it helps her. I wouldn't have bothered you with my family problems otherwise."
Elinor thanked him and said it would help Marianne.
"I've been more pained by her trying to excuse him. It bothers her more than knowing the truth. She'll feel better soon. Have you seen Mr. Willoughby since Barton?"
"Yes. Once. I had to meet him."
Elinor asked, "Did you fight him?"
"I had to. Eliza told me who her lover was. When he returned to town, we met. I defended her, and he defended himself. We weren't hurt. The meeting was secret."
Elinor sighed. She didn't approve, but he was a soldier.
"That's the story of a mother and daughter. I failed her."
"Is she still in town?"
"No. After she gave birth, I moved her and her child to the country."
He stopped.
He said, "I shouldn't have upset you. Forgive me." He left, and Elinor felt compassion and respect for him.
Chapter 32
When Miss Dashwood told her sister about this conversation, Marianne didn't react as Elinor had hoped. She listened carefully but didn't object. She didn't defend Willoughby. She cried and seemed to accept it. However, although Elinor was glad that she knew the truth and was calmer, she wasn't less miserable. Her mind was gloomy. She missed Willoughby's character more than his love. His seduction of Miss Williams, the girl's misery, and the doubt of what he had planned for her all upset her. She couldn't speak of what she felt, even to Elinor. She was silent and made her sister feel worse.
Marianne was often unfair to others. She thought people should have the same opinions and feelings as her. She judged their actions based on how they affected her. A circumstance made her think even less of Mrs. Jennings. It caused her pain, but Mrs. Jennings meant well.
Mrs. Jennings entered their room with a letter. She smiled and said, "I have something that will make you feel better."
Marianne knew it was from Willoughby. She imagined a letter where he apologized. Then he would rush in to see her. The next moment, she saw that it was from her mother. She felt like she had never suffered before.
Mrs. Jennings was cruel. Marianne couldn't express it. She could only cry. Mrs. Jennings didn't notice and said the letter would help. However, it didn't. Willoughby was in every line. Her mother was still confident that they would marry, relied on his love, and asked Marianne to be open with them. She cried.
Marianne wanted to go home. Her mother was dear to her. She was mistaken about Willoughby, but Marianne loved her. She wanted to leave. Elinor didn't know if London or Barton was better. She told her to wait for her mother's advice. Marianne agreed.
Mrs. Jennings left early because she wanted the Middletons and Palmers to grieve. Elinor didn't want to tell her what to do. She wrote to her mother, told her what had happened, and asked for advice. Marianne came into the drawing room and watched her write. She grieved for her and for her mother.
Marianne, who couldn't handle noise, was startled by a knock.
"Who is it?" cried Elinor. "It's early. I thought we were safe."
Marianne moved to the window.
"It's Colonel Brandon!" she said. "We're never safe from him."
"He won't come in. Mrs. Jennings isn't home."
"I don't trust that." She went to her room. "A man who has time bothers others."
She was right. Colonel Brandon came in. Elinor knew he was there for Marianne. She saw it in his face. She couldn't forgive her sister for thinking badly of him.
"I met Mrs. Jennings in Bond Street," he said. "She told me to come. I wanted to find you alone. I want to give comfort to your sister. My regard for her, you, and your mother—will you let me help? I think I'm justified. But I've spent so long convincing myself that I'm right. Am I wrong?" He stopped.
"I understand. You have something to tell me about Mr. Willoughby that will explain him. Telling it will be a kindness. I'll be grateful. Please tell me."
"You shall. I'll be brief. When I left Barton last October—but I need to go back further. I'm bad at telling stories. I'll tell you about myself. I don't want to talk about myself." He sighed.
He paused. "You remember our conversation at Barton Park. The night of a dance. I said a lady resembled Marianne."
"I remember it."
He was pleased. "She was like her in mind and body. The same warmth, the same imagination. She was my relative, an orphan. We grew up together. I always loved Eliza. She loved me like Marianne loves Willoughby. It was unfortunate. At seventeen, I lost her forever. She married my brother against her will. She had a large fortune, and our estate was in debt. My brother didn't deserve her. I hoped she would be happy. She wasn't. She was mistreated. She promised me that nothing—I shouldn't say this. We were going to elope to Scotland. My cousin's maid betrayed us. I was sent away. She had no freedom. My father got his way. I thought she was strong, but she wasn't. If she had been happy, I would have gotten over it. My brother didn't care about her. He was unkind. She became unhappy. She couldn't handle it. Had I stayed in England—I tried to help by leaving. The shock of her marriage was nothing compared to her divorce two years later. That made me gloomy. Even now I remember it—"
He stopped. Elinor was touched. He took her hand, pressed it, and kissed it. He started again.
"I returned to England three years later. I looked for her. I couldn't find her. I thought she had become a prostitute. Her allowance wasn't enough. She had given it to someone else. After six months, I found her in a debtor's prison. She was worn down. I barely recognized her. I can't describe it. She was dying of consumption. That was my comfort. Life couldn't help her. She had time to prepare for death. I found her a place and visited her. I was with her when she died."
He stopped. Elinor said she was concerned.
"I hope your sister isn't offended by the resemblance. Their fates can't be the same. If she had been stronger or had a happier marriage, she would have been all that you will be. But what does this mean? I shouldn't have told you this. I've been silent for fourteen years. It's dangerous. I'll be brief. She left her child, a three-year-old girl, with me. She loved the child. I cared for her. I wanted to watch over her, but I couldn't. I had no family, so she was placed at school. I saw her there. After my brother died, she visited me at Delaford. I called her a relative, but people thought she was my daughter. Three years ago, she was fourteen. I sent her to a respectable woman in Dorsetshire. I was pleased. Last February, she disappeared. I let her go to Bath with a friend. I shouldn't have. I thought her friend was good. She wouldn't tell me anything. Her father was a good man, but he didn't know. He was confined to the house. I learned nothing. For eight months, I wondered what happened. What did I suffer?"
"Could it be—could Willoughby!"—cried Elinor.
"I got a letter from her last October. It was sent from Delaford. I got it on the morning of the Whitwell party. That's why I left Barton. Mr. Willoughby probably thought I was rude, but I was helping someone he had hurt. If he had known, would he have cared? Would he have been less happy with your sister? He had already seduced and abandoned the girl. He had left her with nothing, without telling her where he was. He promised to return, but he didn't write or help her."
"This is beyond everything!" exclaimed Elinor.
"His character is before you. He's wasteful, dissipated, and worse. I've known this for weeks. I was worried about your sister. I wanted to know the truth. I was strange. I hope you understand. I wanted to stop you from being deceived. What were his plans for her? She should be grateful for her situation when she compares it to Eliza's. She should think about this poor girl with a broken heart and self-reproach. She'll feel her own sufferings are nothing. They're not her fault and won't bring disgrace. Her friends will care about her. Use your own discretion. I hope it helps her. I wouldn't have bothered you with my family problems otherwise."
Elinor thanked him and said it would help Marianne.
"I've been more pained by her trying to excuse him. It bothers her more than knowing the truth. She'll feel better soon. Have you seen Mr. Willoughby since Barton?"
"Yes. Once. I had to meet him."
Elinor asked, "Did you fight him?"
"I had to. Eliza told me who her lover was. When he returned to town, we met. I defended her, and he defended himself. We weren't hurt. The meeting was secret."
Elinor sighed.
"That's the story of a mother and daughter. I failed her."
"Is she still in town?"
"No. After she gave birth, I moved her and her child to the country."
He stopped and realized he was keeping Elinor from her sister. He left. Elinor felt compassion and respect for him.
Chapter 33
When Miss Dashwood told her sister about this conversation, Marianne didn't react as Elinor had hoped. She listened carefully but didn't object. She didn't defend Willoughby. She cried and seemed to accept it. However, although Elinor was glad that she knew the truth and was calmer, she wasn't less miserable. Her mind was gloomy. She missed Willoughby's character more than his love. His seduction of Miss Williams, the girl's misery, and the doubt of what he had planned for her all upset her. She couldn't speak of what she felt, even to Elinor. She was silent and made her sister feel worse.
Marianne was often unfair to others. She thought people should have the same opinions and feelings as her. She judged their actions based on how they affected her. A circumstance made her think even less of Mrs. Jennings. It caused her pain, but Mrs. Jennings meant well.
With a letter in her hand, smiling, Mrs. Jennings entered their room and said,
"Now, I have something that will make you feel better."
Marianne knew it was from Willoughby. She imagined a letter where he apologized. Then he would rush in to see her. The next moment, she saw that it was from her mother. She felt like she had never suffered before.
Mrs. Jennings was cruel. Marianne couldn't express it. She could only cry. Mrs. Jennings didn't notice and said the letter would help. But the letter, when she could read it, brought little comfort. Willoughby was in every line. Her mother, still believing in their engagement, asked Marianne to be open with them. She loved Marianne and Willoughby and was sure they would be happy. She cried as she wrote it.
Marianne wanted to go home. Her mother was dear to her. She was wrong about Willoughby, but Marianne loved her. She wanted to leave. Elinor didn't know if London or Barton was better. She told her to wait for her mother's advice. Marianne agreed.
Mrs. Jennings left early because she wanted the Middletons and Palmers to grieve. Elinor didn't want to tell her what to do. She wrote to her mother, told her what had happened, and asked for advice. Marianne came into the drawing room and watched her write. She grieved for her and for her mother.
In this manner, they had continued for a quarter of an hour when Marianne was startled by a knock.
"Who is it?" cried Elinor. "It's early. I thought we were safe."
Marianne moved to the window.
"It's Colonel Brandon!" she said. "We're never safe from him."
"He won't come in. Mrs. Jennings isn't home."
"I don't trust that." She went to her room. "A man who has time on his hands bothers others."
The event proved her right, even though it was based on error. Colonel Brandon did come in. Elinor knew he was there for Marianne. She saw it in his face. She couldn't forgive her sister for thinking badly of him.
Chapter 34
After some resistance, Marianne agreed to go out with her sister and Mrs. Jennings one morning for half an hour. However, she insisted on only going to Gray’s on Sackville Street, where Elinor was exchanging some of her mother's old-fashioned jewels.
When they arrived, Mrs. Jennings remembered that she needed to visit a lady at the other end of the street. Because she didn’t need to go to Gray’s, she decided to pay her visit while Elinor and Marianne were busy.
Upstairs, the Miss Dashwoods found so many people that they had to wait. They sat at the end of the counter that seemed to be moving the fastest. Only one gentleman was standing there. Elinor hoped to encourage him to hurry up. However, he cared more about his toothpick case than being polite. He spent fifteen minutes deciding on the size, shape, and decorations for his toothpick case, carefully examining every one in the shop. He didn't pay much attention to the two ladies, except to stare at them rudely a few times. Elinor remembered his face as being naturally insignificant, even though he was dressed stylishly.
Marianne didn't notice his rudeness because she was lost in thought, just like she was in her own bedroom.
Finally, he decided. The ivory, gold, and pearls were chosen. The gentleman said the exact day he needed the toothpick case, put on his gloves, and looked at the Miss Dashwoods in a way that seemed to demand admiration instead of showing it. He left looking conceited and indifferent.
Elinor hurried to take care of her business. She was about to finish when her brother arrived. She was surprised to see him.
They greeted each other warmly enough to make a good impression at Mr. Gray's shop. John Dashwood seemed glad to see his sisters and asked about their mother respectfully.
Elinor learned that he and Fanny had been in town for two days.
"I wanted to visit you yesterday," he said, "but we had to take Harry to see the animals at Exeter Exchange. We spent the rest of the day with Mrs. Ferrars. Harry enjoyed it. I planned to visit you this morning if I had time, but I'm always busy when I first get to town. I'm here to order a seal for Fanny. I'll try to visit you in Berkeley Street tomorrow and meet your friend Mrs. Jennings. I hear she's wealthy. And I want to meet the Middletons. As my stepmother's relatives, I should show them respect. They're good neighbors in the country."
"They're excellent. They're kind and helpful in every way."
"I'm glad to hear it. They're wealthy, they're related to you, and they should try to make your situation pleasant. You're comfortable in your little cottage. Edward told us it was charming. We were very happy to hear it."
Elinor felt ashamed of her brother and was glad when Mrs. Jennings's servant arrived to tell her that his mistress was waiting.
Mr. Dashwood went downstairs with them and met Mrs. Jennings. He said he hoped to visit them tomorrow and left.
He visited the next day and apologized for his wife not coming. He said she was busy with her mother. He was kind to them and very polite to Mrs. Jennings. When Colonel Brandon arrived, he looked at him curiously, as if he wanted to know if he was rich so he could be nice to him too.
After staying for half an hour, he asked Elinor to walk with him to Conduit Street to introduce him to Sir John and Lady Middleton. It was a nice day, and she agreed. As soon as they left the house, he asked,
"Who is Colonel Brandon? Is he rich?"
"Yes, he has property in Dorsetshire."
"I'm glad. He seems like a gentleman. Elinor, I congratulate you on finding a good match."
"What do you mean?"
"He likes you. I watched him, and I'm sure of it. How much money does he have?"
"About two thousand a year."
"Two thousand a year!" He added, "Elinor, I wish it were twice as much for your sake."
"I believe you, but Colonel Brandon doesn't want to marry me."
"You're wrong. Just try a little, and you'll win him over. He might be unsure because you don't have much money. His friends might advise him against it. But if you give him a little encouragement, you'll win him over. You shouldn't worry about any prior attachment. You know that's impossible. You're too sensible not to see that. Colonel Brandon should be the man, and I'll be as polite as possible to make him like you and your family. It's a match that will please everyone." He lowered his voice. "Your friends are anxious to see you settled. Fanny especially cares about you. Her mother, Mrs. Ferrars, is good-natured. It would please her."
Elinor didn't answer.
"It would be funny if Fanny's brother and my sister got married at the same time. It's not unlikely."
"Is Mr. Edward Ferrars going to be married?" Elinor asked.
"It's not definite, but it's possible. He has a great mother. Mrs. Ferrars will give him a thousand a year if it happens. The lady is the Honorable Miss Morton, daughter of Lord Morton, with thirty thousand pounds. It's a good match for both of them."
"A thousand a year is a lot for a mother to give. Mrs. Ferrars is generous. She gave Fanny two hundred pounds as soon as we got to town because she knew we'd need money."
He paused for her to agree. She said, "Your expenses must be high, but your income is large."
"Not as large as people think. I'm not complaining. It's comfortable, and I hope it will get better. Enclosing Norland Common is expensive. I bought East Kingham Farm. The land was good and next to my property, so I had to buy it. It cost a lot."
"More than it was worth."
"I hope not. I could have sold it for more. But if I hadn't had the money, I would have lost money on the stocks."
Elinor smiled.
"We've also had expenses at Norland. Our father left the Stanhill effects to your mother. He could do what he wanted, but we had to buy linen and china to replace what was taken. After all that, we're far from rich, so Mrs. Ferrars's kindness is helpful."
"I hope you'll be comfortable with her help."
"Another year or two will help, but there's still a lot to do. Fanny's greenhouse hasn't been built, and the flower garden hasn't been planned."
"Where will the greenhouse be?"
"On the hill behind the house. The walnut trees have been cut down to make room for it. It will look great from the park, and the flower garden will slope down to it. We've cleared away the thorns."
Elinor kept her thoughts to herself. She was glad Marianne wasn't there to hear this.
He had made his point about being poor and not buying earrings. He then became cheerful and congratulated Elinor on having Mrs. Jennings as a friend.
"She seems valuable. Her house and lifestyle show she has a good income. She's been useful to you, and she'll help you in the future. Her inviting you to town is great. She cares about you, so she'll probably leave you something. She must have a lot to leave."
"I don't think so. She only has her jointure, which will go to her children."
"She doesn't spend all her money. She'll save some, and she can give it away."
"She'll probably leave it to her daughters."
"Her daughters are married, so they don't need it. She cares about you and treats you well. She's given you a claim on her. She knows what she's doing."
"She doesn't expect anything from us. You're too concerned about our welfare."
"People have little power. But, Elinor, what's wrong with Marianne? She looks unwell. She's lost weight. Is she sick?"
"She's had a nervous complaint for weeks."
"I'm sorry. At her age, illness ruins beauty. She was beautiful last September and likely to attract a man. Her beauty would please them. Fanny said she would marry sooner and better than you, but she was wrong. Marianne will only marry a man with five or six hundred a year. You'll do better. Dorsetshire! I don't know Dorsetshire, but I'll be glad to learn more about it. I hope Fanny and I will visit you."
Elinor tried to convince him that she wouldn't marry Colonel Brandon, but he wanted it to happen. He was determined to befriend the Colonel and encourage the marriage. He hadn't done anything for his sisters, so he wanted others to help them.
They found Lady Middleton at home. Sir John came in later. They were very polite. Sir John liked everyone. Mr. Dashwood didn't know about horses, but he thought Sir John was good-natured. Lady Middleton thought he was fashionable. Mr. Dashwood was delighted.
"I'll tell Fanny that Lady Middleton is elegant! It will make her happy. And Mrs. Jennings is well-behaved, but not as elegant as her daughter. Your sister shouldn't hesitate to visit them. We only knew that Mrs. Jennings was the widow of a man who made his money in a bad way. Fanny and Mrs. Ferrars thought she wasn't good enough for Fanny. Now I can tell her they're wrong."
Chapter 35
Mrs. John Dashwood trusted her husband. She visited Mrs. Jennings and her daughter the next day. She learned that Mrs. Jennings was worthy of her notice, and Lady Middleton was charming!
Lady Middleton liked Mrs. Dashwood. They were both cold-hearted and selfish and sympathized with each other in their propriety and lack of intelligence.
However, Mrs. Jennings didn't like Mrs. John Dashwood. She thought she was a proud woman who was unfriendly and barely spoke to her stepsisters. She spent most of her time in silence.
Elinor wanted to know if Edward was in town, but Fanny wouldn't say his name until she could announce his engagement to Miss Morton or until Colonel Brandon made an offer. She wanted to keep them apart. However, Lucy told her that Edward was in town with Mr. and Mrs. Dashwood. He couldn't visit Bartlett's Buildings because he didn't want to be discovered, but they wrote to each other.
Edward confirmed that he was in town by visiting Berkeley Street twice. Elinor was glad he had visited and glad she had missed him.
The Dashwoods liked the Middletons. They decided to have them over for dinner at their nice house in Harley Street. Their sisters and Mrs. Jennings were invited. John Dashwood invited Colonel Brandon, who was happy to be where the Miss Dashwoods were. They were going to meet Mrs. Ferrars. Elinor was interested because she wanted to know what she was like.
Her interest grew when she heard that the Miss Steeles were also coming.
They had impressed Lady Middleton, so she invited them to spend a week or two in Conduit Street. The Miss Steeles were happy because they wanted to meet the family, see what their challenges were, and try to please them. Lucy was thrilled to get Mrs. John Dashwood's card.
Elinor felt differently. She knew that Edward, who lived with his mother, had to be invited and that she would have to see him with Lucy. It was awful.
Lucy told her that Edward wouldn't be in Harley Street on Tuesday and hoped she was making her feel worse by saying that he couldn't stay away from her.
The day came for the two young ladies to meet their future mother-in-law.
"Pity me, Miss Dashwood!" said Lucy as they walked upstairs. "Only you can understand. I can barely stand. I'm about to see the person my happiness depends on. She's going to be my mother!"
Elinor could have told her that it might be Miss Morton's mother, but she didn't. She said she pitied her, which amazed Lucy. Lucy had hoped to make Elinor jealous.
Mrs. Ferrars was thin, formal, and sour. She had a sallow face and small, plain features. She frowned, which gave her the impression of pride and meanness. She didn't say much and didn't speak to Miss Dashwood, whom she had decided to dislike.
Elinor wasn't upset. She would have been upset months ago, but it didn't bother her now. She was amused by how differently Mrs. Ferrars treated the Miss Steeles. She couldn't help but smile at how gracious they were to the person they would have been most anxious to hurt. She despised all four of them.
Lucy was thrilled to be honored. Miss Steele wanted to be teased about Dr. Davies.
The dinner was grand, and the servants were numerous. This showed the mistress's desire to show off and the master's ability to pay for it. Despite the construction at Norland and his complaints about being poor, he didn't seem to be struggling. However, the conversation was lacking. John Dashwood and his wife didn't have anything interesting to say. Most of their visitors were the same. They lacked sense, elegance, spirit, or temper.
This was especially evident when the ladies went to the drawing room. The men had talked about politics, land, and horses, but now it was over. They only talked about the heights of Harry Dashwood and Lady Middleton's son William, who were the same age.
If both children had been there, it would have been easy to measure them. But only Harry was there. Everyone had an opinion and repeated it.
The mothers each thought their own son was taller but politely said the other's was.
The grandmothers were just as biased but more sincere.
Lucy thought the boys were tall and couldn't see any difference. Miss Steele agreed with everyone.
Elinor gave her opinion that William was taller and didn't say anything else. Marianne said she had no opinion because she hadn't thought about it.
Before leaving Norland, Elinor had painted screens for her sister-in-law. They were in her drawing room, and John Dashwood showed them to Colonel Brandon.
"My older sister made these. You'll like them. She's a good artist."
The Colonel admired them and others were curious. Mrs. Ferrars asked to see them and learned they were Elinor's work.
"Hmm," said Mrs. Ferrars. "Pretty." She returned them to her daughter.
Fanny thought her mother had been rude. She blushed and said, "They're pretty, aren't they?" But then she said, "Don't you think they're like Miss Morton's paintings? She's a great artist. Her last landscape is beautiful!"
"Beautiful! She does everything well."
Marianne was angry. She didn't like Mrs. Ferrars and didn't like her praising someone else. She said, "We don't care about Miss Morton. We're talking about Elinor."
She took the screens to admire them.
Mrs. Ferrars looked angry and said, "Miss Morton is Lord Morton's daughter."
Fanny was angry. Her husband was scared. Elinor was hurt by Marianne's anger, but Colonel Brandon thought she was being kind.
Marianne moved to her sister's chair and said, "Don't mind them. Don't let them make you unhappy."
She cried. Everyone noticed. Colonel Brandon went to them. Mrs. Jennings gave her smelling salts. Sir John was angry and sat next to Lucy Steele. He whispered about what had happened.
Marianne recovered and sat down. She was still upset.
"Poor Marianne!" said her brother to Colonel Brandon. "She's not as healthy as her sister. She's high-strung. It's hard for a beautiful woman to lose her looks. Marianne was beautiful a few months ago. She attracted men. Fanny said she would marry sooner and better than you, but she was wrong. Marianne will only marry a man with five or six hundred a-year. You'll do better. Dorsetshire! I don't know Dorsetshire, but I'll be glad to learn more about it. I hope Fanny and I will visit you."
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