Chapter 1. The Stranger On The Road
A young woman of no more than eighteen years of age was walking along a wide country road. Well, walking was a rather inadequate term, for she was plodding and staggering as if she was drunk. But the look in her large green eyes showed that she was perfectly aware of what was happening.
If her plumpish face wasn't red from crying and her red curls weren't so messy, she would have looked like the beauty she was. She was relatively well-dressed and carried a small sack with her. Tears were constantly flowing from her eyes, and she was whispering something unintelligible.
It was already dark, but the lady didn't seem to care about the coming night and her helplessness.
A rich carriage slowly approached her, and suddenly the woman shook off her stupor. She ran towards it and outstretched her hands:
"Help me! Oh, please, do help me!"
She sounded as if she wasn't caring for propriety or anything else anymore.
The carriage stopped, and a very plain sickly-looking brunette of about thirty years of age in a rich dark velvet dress stepped outside:
"Yes, madam, what do you need?"
The stranger begged:
"I need a shelter for several days, please, and writing materials and a bit of money to send a letter to Japan! I implore you, dear madam – my relations, when they arrive, will repay you…"
"Oh, I say!" with this exclamation a round-faced pleasant man in a military uniform jumped out of the carriage. "For goodness sake, ma'am – what's your name?"
"Mrs. Marianne Willoughby," the woman murmured, unsure of what would happen next.
"Mrs. Willoughby – it's obvious you need urgent assistance, you are obviously very ill. We will be most glad to give you accommodation for a while, won't we, Annie?" he looked at the brunette.
"Yes, of course, Richard, my dear," the latter, apparently his wife, nodded eagerly. Their lackey helped Marianne to get into the carriage, they got back inside as well, and it drove off.
"Whom do I have to thank so greatly?" Marianne exclaimed.
"Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam at your service, Mrs. Willoughby," the man smiled. "And this is my wife, Lady Anne de Bourgh Fitzwilliam."
"Pleased to meet you," Lady Anne bowed her head. Marianne guessed that was her favorite gesture; the rich lady was obviously used to obey other people.
"If you do not wish to tell us of your misfortunes, we won't persuade you to do it," the Colonel said generously. "But, being no medical man, I need to know what exactly is your illness, if you know it… For as soon as we get home I'll call a physician…"
"Oh!" Marianne cried. "It's not appropriate to talk of this to strangers, but I don't care anymore. I've been in a delicate condition for two months, and my husband separated himself from me!"
Colonel Fitzwilliam's jaw dropped a little, and his wife blanched a bit more than usual, but they didn't express their absolute shock and astonishment. The good-natured man did all his best to comfort Marianne, and Lady Anne weakly tried to console her as well, and the young woman was immensely touched. She had almost stopped believing that good fortune and kind people still exist.
For the rest of the way the carriage drove in silence. Marianne still thought of her luck to find someone to help her, but she couldn't help but feel a sting of envy as she observed the couple opposite her. Richard Fitzwilliam's eyes were usually fixed on Lady Anne, and he observed this pale miserable creature as though he was a peasant and she was a fairy princess. His eyes clearly spoke: "What have I done to deserve such a woman?"
John Willoughby had never looked at her like this, Marianne remembered bitterly. For sure, he admired her very much. Sang praises to her beauty. But when his wealthy aunt's heritage unexpectedly came to an end, he began to admire even more – whom? That pompous toad, Miss Jemima Grey! Marianne caught them practically in bed when she returned from a soiree earlier than she expected. So when there was no money, Marianne's "star-like eyes", "angelic face", "sweet voice of a nymph" (as Willoughby called them) were outshone by Miss Grey's fifty thousand pounds with which she paid for just the same compliments addressed to her.
John threw Marianne out that very evening. He didn't even know she was with child. She only had a chance to inform Miss Grey that when her money ended as well, John wouldn't be very faithful to her either. But that wasn't much of a revenge or a consolation.
Marianne had nowhere to go. Her sister Mrs. Elinor Ferrars was in Japan with her husband, Rev. Edward Ferrars who was a missionary in Tokyo, and with her mother. The Middletons, their distant relations, were kind to them before, but they wouldn't be, Marianne felt, very eager to receive a disgraced woman. The good-natured and foolish Mrs. Jennings, who cared naught for propriety, died a while ago, and her daughter Charlotte and her son-in-law moved away. Marianne and Elinor's snobbish stepbrother emigrated to Australia with his family.
So the poor woman had nobody of her acquaintances to turn to. Well… there was another one. But he, the kind and caring Colonel Brandon, who was once their neighbor, was abroad as well. She didn't know where. Anyway, he used to be madly in love with her, despite the age gap of nearly twenty years. He left his home, Delaford, almost immediately after Marianne's wedding with John Willoughby. She was certain he wouldn't care for her now that she had broken his heart. It was her own fault that she was a ruined woman now…
Marianne felt tears welling in her eyes again as she remembered Colonel Brandon. He did look at her like Richard looked at Anne. Only Marianne ignored Brandon's attentions, for he seemed – oh, how foolish it all seemed now! – not romantic and young enough for her.
All of this, plus her condition, was too much for the young lady. Her head span, and she fainted.