Authors Note:
This is not meant to be taken quite literally. This is just a little idea that I had, and I supposed that I should type it up :)
No, he's not meant to be insane, although he isn't meant to come across as being "all there". It's meant to seem as if his vision of Marianne has become warped over time, and his mental health has gone further and further downhill the more he thinks of her, which becomes quite a lot. I realise that this is actually quite crappy, but I'd really appreciate some constructive criticism, and I'll reply to all. Thank you for reading!
.:.
I see her every night. I saw her in my dreams, in my nightmares. Every night of every week of every month of every year. Beautiful is an overused word, but in this case, it fits perfectly.
When I began courting that irreplaceable woman, I thought she was tremendous. Aside from the obvious income problems, and my selfishness, we were a perfect match. Of course, that scoundrel Colonel kept cropping up with her, inviting her to his house, trying desperately to cling on to my princess, and to sabotage our relationship. It was apparent to me, but Marianne appeared blind to his games. However, I foolishly did not realise just how... perfect a young lady Marianne actually was.
The nights when I am forced to 'make love' to my second-rate, yet wealthy, wife, in order to satisfy her idealist and foolish dream of our marriage, I do so with such vigour that can only come from imagining making love to that exquisite beauty, Marianne Dashwood.
Or Mrs Christopher Brandon as she now is. For every night I am kept awake with the fear of that senile old fool deflowering my sweet virgin, swarming her svelte pale beauty with his disgustingly old body, as she cries for him to leave her be. O, how she must lay awake at night, dreaming of me, and our love! Alas, the few times I have spied her, she is always within that horrific mans company, so I cannot approach her, telling her of my love.
O, how she must have wept when she found that she was in child, with that beast! O, how she must have cried herself to sleep at nights! And when the little brat was eventually birthed after nine long months, how much pain she must have been in! How much sorrow can one woman suffer through, needlessly?
One day I shall avenge the death of our love, and sweep Miss Marianne off her feet.