If Only I Could
Chapter 7
It took some time before Marianne quite understood what had happened. On one hand, she had never been kissed like that before, but on the other, no one had quite walked out on her like that before, either. Christopher had admitted to her that the connections she had felt really was there, that he was drawn to her like she was to him – and still he had walked away. There was little opening for a change of heart there, judging by the way he'd left. The rejection burned and Marianne tried to keep her tears in.
In a short while Elinor walked in. She'd noticed her sister go in after Brandon, but then she'd seen Brandon practically storm out again, talk to Sir John, and walk back in again. The door to the library was open when Elinor went to look for Marianne, and she found her sister standing there gobsmacked, nearly in tears.
"Oh dear, Marianne, what happened?"
"He most certainly is not interested in seeing me," Marianne stated flatly.
"Then why is he so upset, are you sure about that?" Elinor just couldn't understand any of this.
"Gods, he told me he would never ever want a relationship with me and he kissed me and it was like nothing on earth, and the he just stormed out. I'd say that was pretty definitive. He won't see past being my boss at the moment and that he's older than me. I think he was just trying to give some formal reasons so he wouldn't have to say that he might fancy me a bit but I'm just not his type. Why would someone like him want an airhead hippie like me…"
Elinor then hugged her sister. That didn't sound like Christopher at all, but how could she argue with Marianne, she hadn't been there to see what had happened. She'd try and get Christopher to say something later. Marianne took a deep breath and tried to pull herself together.
"No need to feel awkward about John picking me up, then," she simply stated and made her way back outside. When John Willoughby turned up soon after, Marianne was calm and collected and politely thanked Sir John and made her goodbyes.
From one of the upstairs windows a still too drunk Christopher Brandon looked at the unkempt looking dark haired boy who had turned up on a motorcycle, a spare helmet and a spare leather jacket in the saddle bag for his date. The lad gave almost hostile looks to everyone at the party as if wanting to stick two fingers up at the establishment, and then he'd almost dragged Marianne out by her arm. Brandon had a bad feeling about the boy, but surely he had just put an end to any and all rights to being involved in Marianne's life. The conflicting feelings he had were pressing on his heart like cold brick.
The following morning found Brandon in one of Sir John's guest rooms, slowly waking up face down and his clothes on with a massive hangover. Had he stopped drinking after Marianne left? Of course not. Someone had been to cover him with a throw of sorts and left a shirt and a pullover on a chair near the bed. The en suite bathroom, as Brandon well knew, had all the necessary toiletries like a decent hotel would, and Brandon was very grateful for his friend's hospitality: he really felt like his head was full of cotton wool and a rat had crawled into his mouth to die. There was also a packet of ibuprofen in the bathroom, too, which Brandon accepted with even more gratitude. He should do something very, very nice to thank Delia, because all of this consideration to his wellbeing really had all the hallmarks of Lady Middleton's kindness.
It was only when he stood under the shower that his foggy brain started to clear enough to remember the previous afternoon.
"Oh gods…" he moaned, as he remembered the kiss and then the hurt on Marianne's face when he so bluntly rejected her and stormed off. "What have I done?" he thought, letting out a deep sigh. He then tried to convince himself that it really was for the best. He had decided long ago that he was not the type to have relationships and certainly not relationships with considerably younger, innocent, women who also worked for him. He wasn't a letch, for goodness sakes! It was a very small voice at the back of his slowly clearing head that tried to tell him that this was not 'relationships' in plural, but if this was to be it would be the one relationship he'd ever have and want. Brandon silenced the voice by trying to pull himself together and stepping out of the shower. Time to go downstairs and face the music. John was not going to let him off easy.
Brandon knew where to go find some breakfast. It wasn't that late yet and John normally sat around with his paper for a short eternity. Hearing John burst laughing at first sight of him did not surprise Brandon.
"Some friend you are," Brandon muttered as he headed for the coffee pot.
"Oh come on, you should see yourself, all sheepish as if you're a schoolboy caught having a fag behind the woodshop!" Sir John explained himself, but calmed down not wanting to embarrass his friend any more. There were some serious issues behind this whole sharade.
Brandon put some bread in the toaster and took his coffee to the table, not saying a word.
"What happened?" John eventually asked, seeing as his friend was not going to volunteer a thing. Brandon took a deep breath. He'd rather not say, but then again this was John's house and he hadn't exactly behaved.
"I shoved her away, that's what," Brandon muttered, staring at his coffee as if it was potentially going to attack him any moment.
"Shoved her away?"
"Yes, dammit. I wasn't going to say anything and I left the garden. I had too much to drink, see. Then she had to follow me into the house…"
"And perhaps she tried to approach you?" John tried to help the story along.
"Well… What was the point of that? She's got a boyfriend now, hasn't she. And she still works for me and she's still too young." Brandon almost spat the words and jumped up to get the rest of his breakfast when the toaster finished its job.
Sir John looked at his friend carefully. Brandon was in trouble. John hadn't seen him worked up about a person like this since, well perhaps ever! John could also see that he wasn't getting the full story.
"But that wasn't everything that happened, was it? I saw you go in, I saw her follow you, and then I saw Elinor follow you. I talked to Elinor but she wouldn't tell me all of it either. You have a very loyal friend there, Christopher, hope you know that."
"Yes, Elinor is one of a kind. But then so is Marianne. I kissed her."
"You kissed her? I thought you said you shoved her away?"
"That too. I couldn't help myself. I thought that since this was the closest I'd ever get to her, I could give her a drunken kiss. And then I realized that I actually kissed, not just think I could. Then I shoved her away." Brandon wished the ground would open and pull him in. Certainly not his proudest moment. John mulled his confession over for a moment.
"No wonder the girl looked so shaken before she left."
Brandon's eyes darted to Sir John when he heard this.
"Shaken? Oh Gods, I attacked her…"
"No, I don't think that was it. Think about it man, she wants to be with you, you kiss her and then you kick her away. What is she supposed to think is going on?" Sir John tried to explain to Brandon.
"She doesn't really want me, don't be silly John! It's just all a novelty and a youthful folly," Brandon told his friend.
"Don't be so sure, Christopher. I saw how she looked at you yesterday, and I saw how she reacted to that shaggy hippie of a boy who came to get her yesterday. I think you can still set this right, you know."
Brandon had no answer to that. It was pointless arguing with John anyways. Yet, he couldn't help but feel a little seed of hope take root somewhere in his heart. Had he made a mistake last night, not letting go of his fears? What if his issues with her working for him and his age were just fears, excuses for not having to risk himself? He'd spent so long telling himself that he did not want anyone and no one could possibly want him. What if he was wrong? Elinor. He needed to talk to Elinor.
