Chapter 14- Easy Like Sunday Mornings

Elinor walked down the stairs from the room she was sharing with Marianne for the last week of her single life. She could not be more ready for such a happy day. Truly, the only reason her happiness had become so blissfully complete was due to the affections and assurances shared between the Colonel and Marianne. Elinor could tell, just by watching the Colonel watch Marianne that he loved her almost ore than life itself.

Imagining her life, she pictured her and Edward married. They were living in a little parish on the estate and land of one Colonel Brandon, only a short way from the man himself and his wife, her sister Marianne. Such pleasant a dream she could not have even imagined a little over two years ago. After losing their father, it was only natural for her to realize how dire their situation had become, how necessary it was for her to try to push through the grief, because she had known that her mother and sister were more than willing to give into the grief all together back then.

It had been two years since she had lost her father, had been escorted out of her home, and then thrust upon the kindness of people whom she had never met. In that time, she was in love, in despair over the impossibility of that love, nearly destroyed by Marianne's misfortune and wounds by the young idiot, and then Marianne's following sickness. So much had happened, so many wounds inflicted, yet so many wounds healed. Marianne, in all her glory, surviving such a horrid ideal and now courting a man whom Elinor was certain truly loved her more than any amount of money or material possessions. Elinor, sure that she had lost the love of her life, only to find herself about to marry this man. What fortune! The Dashwood family was truly a blessed household, to feel such love, loss, grief, and triumph! These were the waves of life that made love and risk worthwhile. True emotion, as she had learned from her sister, was often a saving grace. What a horror it is to feel as if you are drowning, as if your very life is fading from your soul- only for you to feel a senseless obligation to drown alone. Her sister's emotion on her behalf, Marianne's anger, indignation, compassion, and gentleness in the face of Elinor's despair had only made the sickness that threatened to consume Marianne more perilous. For if Marianne, the only soul in whom she had confided, were to leave her forever, what a deep despair that would overcome her. She too, though not through sickness, would also have been consumed, yet, more slowly and painfully as life found itself dragging on hour after hour.

As she arrived in the kitchen, seeing her family, Marianne, her mother, and Margaret laughing at the table, Elinor knew that nothing in life could match the joy that these women gave her. Though marrying Edward would enthrall and utterly transfix her affections for the rest of her life, Elinor was feeling a certain loss, thinking of leaving these women for even the shortest of time and distances.

Marianne looked up as Elinor entered the kitchen, in love with her life. Elinor was absolutely radiant, only more joyous and lovely with every day that brought them closer to Elinor's impending marriage. She had clung to Elinor in these past days. She faintly recalled the desperation in Elinor's voice the night before she had begun to recover from her sickness. How different these days were for them both, Elinor and her impending merriment, her and her growing affections for a certain Colonel... Christopher. She blushed, thinking of what it would feel like to use his Christian name, to see his reaction once she had said it. Though she felt love, so much of it, for every aspect of her life, for the first time, Elinor would not reside in the same home as the other three women in their family. Though she was merely a mile away from the Dashwood house, she wondered if Elinor was also keenly feeling this sense of loss. What a fantastic loss to suffer though, what a wonderful problem to have, Marianne thought, rising from the table. She walked to her sister, embracing her.

"What a radiant beauty you are, Elinor. We must hurry you to the altar before foolish suitors fall to the sky and attempt to win your affections." She laughed and Elinor rolled her eyes. "Even if they did, Marianne, I fear for their hearts, for I would not even notice them. One Mr. Edward Ferrars is the only man in my sights."

The women in the room smiled and were silent, all feeling the same wonderful dread and joy that comes with the loss of a family member and the beginning of a new family. For a while, smiling and eating, a comfortable silence reigned in the sacred dining space, where so much had been learned and cherished. Elinor had found herself running her hands over the bannister, the piano, the hearth, and dining table, every time she passed it, as if she were soaking up the love that they had soaked into the home. On the table, as the meal was finished, the four women held hands on the table, offering thanks for the coming days, for all the joys, redirections, and blessings that were on their way.

Edward Ferrars walked around the cottage that would soon change from a building into a home. He could imagine Elinor here with him. With them sharing meals, conversations, and so much more in this home. He wondered if they would have the joy of having children, if Marianne and the Colonel would visit often, as they would visit the couple at the main estate. He was certain, though nothing as much as words on the subject had been exchanged between the Colonel and himself, that Marianne was the sole object of the Colonel's affections and intentions. Whenever the two were seen together, Marianne seemed to retrieve the light hearted presence of mind that she had had before her relationship with the scoundrel that had wounded her so deeply. The Colonel appeared ten years younger, his face alight with joy, passion, and happiness that you would never see in his day to day interactions with any people you could find outside of the Dashwood family.

He knew that she, Elinor, must be afraid, at least in some sense, about this joyous day that was growing nearer and nearer. He had caught her staring fondly at her home, losing her train of thought in groups of people. Of course, she was so accustomed to caring for her family- she would feel some apprehension in leaving them for the first time, especially Marianne. Since nearly losing Marianne, Elinor had been much more transparent, especially regarding her feelings about their relationship and her love for her family. He could see the difference in her demeanor as soon as he had come to ask for her hand. Though she had been overjoyed, her eyes, her presence, was never too far from her sister. There was a line, a tie between them that had only become stronger with Marianne's terrible ordeal.

He, himself, though not as attached to Marianne as Elinor, had also noticed the change in Marianne. Often she seemed, so hesitant, to profess her feelings on anything, beyond polite expressions of compassion, celebration, or indifference. He couldn't imagine the world losing such a bright and vibrant young woman, so young. Indeed, when he had seen her in London, he had noticed a change in her. She seemed exhausted, worn down, and then, to become sick. He admired Marianne for fighting through the sickness, when in her heart she had felt such darkness. He did not know if he would have been as strong, had he been in her shoes, felt her pain for himself. The Colonel rarely spoke of the relationship that had caused such darkness, but when he did, he was careful to do so out of Marianne's presence or earshot. The Colonel was not shy in his view of the young man. In the Colonel's eyes, being young had never excused his actions, because they didn't change their impact on the women that they both loved.

Truly, such women were miracles and he considered himself truly lucky, truly blessed, to have the love of a Dashwood sister. As he was exiting the home, he ran his fingers over the threshold, imagining the day, very soon, when Elinor would be in his arms as they crossed into this new life and home together. After a moment, he began to walk, knowing he must go quickly if he expected to arrive in time.

Christopher, she thought, as she prepared the table. Extending her arms, the table runner unfolded, flying out in front of her, only to drift down onto the table. She carefully placed the candles, each piece of silverware, each cloth napkin. Did she love him as she had Willoughby? Did she imagine herself changed in love? She wondered if the shadow of Willoughby's actions would ever completely fade, and when they did, if the Colonel would still look at her the way she sometimes caught him doing in these last few days.

She laid out the dishes, refusing to let anyone else do this. This was her pleasure, her delight on Sundays. She wanted Elinor to know that she could take care of the family, that she was strong, that she was not as fragile as they treated her some times. She had a servant take a chair outside, and once the table had been prepared, she only needed to wait. She thought it would be nice, as she had not found the time to do it recently, to sit out underneath the tree, as she had so often done while she had been recovering.

With a blanket over her, she laid under the tree on the chair, soaking in the sun. She fell asleep there, a smile on her face, a pleasant dream in her mind.

Colonel Brandon, picking up Mr. Ferrars at the gate to the estate, was excited for the day. It had been some time since he had attended a family dinner at the Dashwood home, or at least it seemed that way. Over the last few days, he and Mr. Ferrars had been busy directing workers, preparing the cottage for the arrival of the newly wedded Mr. and Mrs. Ferrars. Needless to say, as he exited the carriage, and they began the trek up the hillside to the Dashwood Cottage, his heart was also on an incline. As he was cresting the hill, conversing with Mr. Ferrars, he turned to see Marianne, stretched out on a chair under the tree, in the sun, with no one around.

Without a moment of hesitation, his body was running to her before his mind had even thought to do so. It had been immediate. His first thoughts were had she fallen ill again, did she need help, was she ok? Moments after arriving, his heart was nearly choked by the sweet sight of Marianne, not sick, but simply asleep, napping under the tree while she was waiting for them to come. He smiled wide, relieved, elated, lucky. He reached out his hand, brushing her stray hair behind her ear in one stroke.