On Pasts and Presents: Chapter 13
"How dare they sully her reputation like that!" Brandon thought as he returned to his town house and headed straight for his drinks cabinet. These people had learned nothing from the past. Not from Edward Ferrars and Lucy Steele, not from what happened to Marianne. Nothing! They really seemed to thrive on generating the very scandals they would then gasp at in their suffocating little circles!
Brandon wanted nothing more than to write to Marianne again – he had waited for a moment to do that the entire day – but right now he was hardly in the right frame of mind for that. How does a man write a letter to his sweet bride when the topmost feeling he has is rage on her behalf? He would not breathe a word of his conversation with John Dashwood to Marianne or any of the Dashwood ladies, and therefore he needed to calm himself down a little before he could focus properly on what he really wanted to say to Marianne in a letter. He'd have to stay in town for a few more days: his heart would simply burst if he did not communicate with her before his return.
With his drink in his hand Brandon sat down in one of his comfortable armchairs, closed his eyes and with a deep sigh leaned his head back. If he just thought of Marianne he would calm down: her scent, her lips on his, how she felt against him – oh yes, there was his haven. After a few more sips from his tumbler he was ready to compose his letter.
My dearest Marianne,
I'm sorry it is so late in the day that I write and it will take well into tomorrow afternoon before you receive this letter. Today has been rather occupied with meetings and then a dinner. The meetings are nothing of interest, merely business, but you might find it interesting to hear that I was invited to dinner by Mrs Ferrars and naturally your brother John and his wife were there as well. He enquired about our wedding date (although I am sure he knew it), and I reminded him that as your family he was welcome to visit us at Delaford also after we were married. Other than that, there is very little to report, and I have to confess that my mind has not been so much in the present or on the dinner company tonight but more on your sweet letter I received last night, my dearest.
I so worried I may have been too forward in my letter earlier, but your reply eased that worry. I do so love your candid nature and honesty in all matters. And please do not apologise for talking to your dear sister: how else would you learn if not by asking those who have more experience. From what I have gathered, your sister and Mr Ferrars have a loving relationship both in spirit and physically. Elinor will be, for certain, someone you can turn to. Please do not repeat to her that I said that, I do not think that Mr and Mrs Ferrars realise that I have perhaps seen them together when they thought no one else has been present when I have been riding through my estate!
Did you think of me when you lay down last night? Perhaps you heard me call you in my thoughts? Somehow, my sweet Marianne, you have turned a crummy old colonel in to great big sap as I was on my bed last night and looked at the stars thinking how perhaps you were looking at the same stars. Few more days, my dear, and I will be back. I think it is then time to have a talk about certain arrangements when it comes to your moving to Delaford. I would like for it all to be ready the moment you become my wife.
Consider this a kiss from a man who no longer knows how to exist without you near, my dear Marianne. You will probably not have time to reply to this letter, for I hope I shall be on my way back before a messenger would get here. I simply wish now that very soon I may place that kiss on your sweet lips in person.
Love,
Christopher
Brandon sent his man out with the letter straight away, although he knew well that the messenger would not ride until first light. All the same, he needed to feel that the letter was making its way to Marianne. Writing the letter had calmed him down and getting some sleep was not an alien prospect now. All in all, it had been better for him to storm out of the dinner party earlier than to have staid and tried to keep his temper in check. He knew many people thought he was a dull man, lacking in expression, but he had seen enough of the world and the people in it to have encountered his own temper. It would not have done to challenge John Dashwood physically tonight. The damage would have been far worse than the few surprised faces he'd seen on his way out.