Colonel Christopher Brandon appraised the scene before him. His two little girls, Emily and Elizabeth, were running about the garden with their wooden dolls, with 2 year-old Christopher close at their heels. A maid was hanging laundry on the line, and there, kneeling down over the roses, was his sweet Marianne. She was busily fixed on clipping away the thorns, for Marianne dearly loved her rose garden. Christopher would joke that Marianne nearly cared for them more than she did her children, at which Marianne would exclaim, "Really, Christopher! Such vulgar teasing!"
It was here then that Christopher snuck up on her. "Shall I compare thee to a summer's day? For thou art more temperate."
Marianne jumped. "Oh, Christopher, my darling Christopher!" She cried, reaching her arms around his neck, as he drew her in briefly. Her cries brought the children in, who started shrieking, "Papa! Papa!" as they came closer. The girls then wrapped themselves around his legs, while little Christopher was gathered in his father's arms. "And where is baby Charlotte?" Christopher asked, referring to their 7 month-old daughter.
Hidden behind a particularly larger bush was a pram where a baby girl was curled up, dreaming the afternoon away. "She is such a good baby. She rarely cries and sleeps most of the day," Marianne said proudly.
Christopher had been away for some time in town on business and had not known about the baby's change in sleeping habits. "So she no longer has the colick. I am glad to hear of it."
"I am very glad too." Marianne rolled her eyes. She then ushered her husband into the house. "Get off from your father, children. Papa just returned from London, so he is very tired."
"It's alright, Marianne. I'd much rather spend time with them." Marianne looked at him lovingly and pressed her hand to his cheek and despite their marriage of nearly six years, Brandon still loved the sensation he felt at her touch. He then proceeded to play with his children in the garden.
Marianne watched on fondly, as she tended to her roses, thinking how extraordinary it was that a man who had been a bachelor for 37 years should at 43 have such an interest in his children, especially an army colonel at that. But that was her Christopher, her darling Christopher.
Marianne surveyed him. Perhaps he wasn't so handsome as other men, but his features were pleasing, his form was very pleasing (and even though having four children with him, Marianne blushed out of propriety), his manners were impeccable, his temperament which had once been dour was now vibrant, and his heart was so noble and so true…so very much so that Marianne wondered why her 17 year-old self hadn't swooned at the sight of him. But at 17, Marianne knew that one was enamored more by outward appearances. Marianne's sentimental 17 year-old heart had not thought of maturity, good breeding, loyalty, wisdom, or honesty. She had only thought of mutual tastes and compatibility and a man who was lively, attractive, agreeable and romantic. That such qualities could be combined with low morals and poor habits 17 year-old Marianne never knew. But 19 year-old Marianne did and so when a 37 year-old colonel with good breeding and with loyal, honest, and noble virtues, proposed to her, she said yes.
When they first married, Marianne had admired Colonel Brandon greatly. Six years later she could say that she was so in love with her husband that it was quite scandalous. She had learned many things about her husband that she would have never guessed at but should have guessed at. He had seen death of friends, battle, hunger, and incredible heartache over his first love, Eliza Williams. He had scars from battles and tables of far-off places and stories that chilled Marianne's bones, for after two months of marriage, Marianne had demanded to know all of her husband's life—every detail. She, in turn, had told him her, and his laughter flowed as she told him how she had been as a child. "I was spoilt quite dreadfully by my father, I am afraid. Both he and my mother indulged my romantic notions."
"And I am ever glad they did." Christopher had said, taking Marianne into his arms. "I should have liked to have known you then."
"You would have paid little attention to me. I, an 8 year-old child, and you a 26 year-old grown military colonel!"
"I'm afraid I was only a major at the time."
"It makes little difference, anyhow." Marianne had told him. "You should have treated me like you do Margaret! And then to meet me nine years later should have made it odd; no, I am glad that you met me when you did. If only I had not been a little fool, I would have loved you instantly."
Marianne smiled at the warm memory. Then when Marianne had given birth to their daughter, Marianne knew of her husband's wild anticipation. He had waited 38 years to produce an heir. "I am sorry she is a girl, Christopher," Marianne called weakly from her bed, exhausted from the pains of labor.
Christopher held the baby in complete wonderment and pride. At Marianne's words, he was shocked. "Dearest heart, you have made me the happiest man on earth with the birth of our daughter. You may produce 10 daughters if you wish. Becoming a father is more than I could have ever hoped for. Being married to you is the loveliest thing in the world and to have a daughter, a little girl who I hope will resemble her mother, is the greatest gift. Thank you, Marianne." However, when their son was born, Christopher was very proud. "I do believe you are happier at Christopher's birth than you were at either of the girls'," teased Marianne. She knew Christopher did love his daughters, but a son was a man's pride and joy, and after all, the Colonel was a man, when all was said and done. And how could Marianne begrudge him when he tenderly kissed her lips and said, "Thank you, Marianne," so humbly and with such awe?
Marianne was now 25 years old, and her beauty was in full bloom, for a woman always looks best at that time of life. Villagers described her as "young, pretty Mrs. Brandon" and in town, she was known as the "charming and lovely Mrs. Brandon," and all would marvel at the extraordinary luck of Colonel Brandon in having secured a pretty little thing like her. For it was widely known that Mr. Willoughby considered Mrs. Brandon to be the most handsome woman he knew, and many pretty girls were slighted by his saying that they bore no comparison with Mrs. Brandon.
Even Colonel Brandon's fellow officers were surprised at their marriage. "Mrs. Brandon is an angel," reported those who attended their wedding. "Brandon is one d—ed lucky fellow." They said coarsely.
But those who knew and loved the Colonel best, were thrilled by their marriage. And that Marianne should be happy to marry him, delighted all.
"I always said that they would be a good match," chuckled Mrs. Jennings. "for he is rich, and she is handsome!"
"Didn't I always say that Miss Marianne should come to think of you, Brandon? Guess the old dog still has a few tricks yet, eh?" Sir John said jovially.
"It is lovely to see your sister so happy, Mrs. Ferrars," Charlotte Palmer told Elinor Ferrars née Dashwood over tea. "And the Colonel too! Matrimony does everyone good. Look how happy it has made Mr. Palmer and I!" When their brother John Dashwood heard of their engagement, he said, "I am glad of it. I always hoped to see Colonel Brandon as my brother-in-law and though it did not seem that Marianne should be the type to attract Colonel Brandon, I know that many men are overcome by beauty, and I shall not be the one to discourage him."
Margaret jumped up and down, which her mother exclaimed was quite unseemly for a girl of 14. "Margaret, dearest, remember you are nearly a lady. Behave as such, please."
But the happiest of these, besides the Colonel and Marianne themselves, was Elinor. Her sister was dearer and more well-known to her than any other being in the world.
"Dearest Elinor," Marianne had told her, "is it most shocking to you that I should marry Colonel Brandon?"
"I am not surprised of it," said her sister. "I have suspected as much these six months at least."
"Oh, Elinor, I am so happy!" At which, Marianne recited a poem and then wandered to the piano, where she played every happy song that she knew until happiness itself, the Colonel, came for dinner.
Marianne had never wanted dinner to end so quickly. They retired to the drawing room where Colonel Brandon taught Marianne a duet on the piano. The day of her wedding drew nearer, and as such their marriage banns were announced in church. Never before had Marianne seen Colonel Brandon's ears turn so red. "They're almost as red as his military coat," whispered Margaret.
As customary, their half-brother, John Dashwood, gave Marianne away. Wreathed in her bridal white, her skin glowing, lips quivering, and brown eyes shining, Marianne Dashwood wed Christopher James Brandon. Marianne would never have eyes for any other man.
So it was, Marianne had come to this day, six years later. She picked up baby Charlotte and she awakened with her blue eyes, the very same as Christopher's, looking up into her mother's brown ones. Marianne kissed her little baby. To think she had once despaired of life—and love! How much happiness had awaited her! She walked over to her husband and kissed him. "Do you know," she said, her brown eyes dancing, "I am scandalously in love with you."