The next morning, Mr. Jennings pretty much had the Colonel cornered in the
drawing room. The sun streamed in through the wide windows and alighted
over his hands-it was a beautiful day-but he seemed content to stay in, at
least for now.
"My, I wish I could have seen more of the air Miss Sarah carried yesterday evening, Colonel. Really, what magic did you work on her while walking in the garden?"
Brandon shook his head. "It does spread like wildfire around here, doesn't it?"
"Yes, yes, of course, thanks to my beloved Mrs. Jennings, as always."
"What is she singing about this time?"
"Only this: when Sarah went up to bed you could still see stars in her eyes."
"I imagine it was a good dinner."
"Please, Brandon, don't be foolish. We know you've done something."
"Well-"
"I do believe you've taken a fancy to her youth and beauty, that is impossible to hide. And I don't doubt she's found nothing unappealing about yourself." He smiled broadly from behind the Colonel, and therefore Brandon found it difficult not to return it.
Instead he became lost in a fantasy land, and he remembered the day his love Marianne had fallen and a young, dashing Willoughby had saved her instead of him. Even after the wounds had healed she still coveted his attentions, and he realized he'd been blind to her turning away from his own. Even after he had broken her she'd still been wounded by the rainfall that had carried her out once more to see her true love. That, he knew, had been the cause of her deterioration, where her sickness was healed on the outside but her immune system and her heart were still very much in a state of false recovery. The summer after they wed he lost her to acute influenza. Funny, he thought, how Marianne would love to walk so that she'd always say it wouldn't rain, and of course it did. The rain had never done much for his arthritis-he could feel himself getting old-so he'd never much accompanied his bride on these expeditions. She'd loved the rain so.
This brought him to a place where he was younger, in his late twenties, and he'd fallen for her so easily, just like he'd fallen for Eliza. Eliza's daughter had stayed with him for a while-she'd been dark-haired and untamed, not at all like shy, fair Sarah-and hadn't been much company. He'd missed having a lady to spend his fortune on and pamper.
He concluded that perhaps Sarah would be his last chance to fall in love. She was beautiful, yes, and carried herself well, but she was cultured, and so much more. He knew she was young and he'd been more lonely of late than ever, since he'd met this unique beauty. Although he felt Mr. Jennings spoke the truth, he didn't know how long she'd stay.
At last Mr. Jennings left the Colonel to his thoughts and met Elinor in the hallway outside. "Your wife is inquiring after Brandon's quiet rarities of gossip." She whispered lightheartedly. "Yes, I do believe gentlemen prefer blondes." He replied with a smile
"My, I wish I could have seen more of the air Miss Sarah carried yesterday evening, Colonel. Really, what magic did you work on her while walking in the garden?"
Brandon shook his head. "It does spread like wildfire around here, doesn't it?"
"Yes, yes, of course, thanks to my beloved Mrs. Jennings, as always."
"What is she singing about this time?"
"Only this: when Sarah went up to bed you could still see stars in her eyes."
"I imagine it was a good dinner."
"Please, Brandon, don't be foolish. We know you've done something."
"Well-"
"I do believe you've taken a fancy to her youth and beauty, that is impossible to hide. And I don't doubt she's found nothing unappealing about yourself." He smiled broadly from behind the Colonel, and therefore Brandon found it difficult not to return it.
Instead he became lost in a fantasy land, and he remembered the day his love Marianne had fallen and a young, dashing Willoughby had saved her instead of him. Even after the wounds had healed she still coveted his attentions, and he realized he'd been blind to her turning away from his own. Even after he had broken her she'd still been wounded by the rainfall that had carried her out once more to see her true love. That, he knew, had been the cause of her deterioration, where her sickness was healed on the outside but her immune system and her heart were still very much in a state of false recovery. The summer after they wed he lost her to acute influenza. Funny, he thought, how Marianne would love to walk so that she'd always say it wouldn't rain, and of course it did. The rain had never done much for his arthritis-he could feel himself getting old-so he'd never much accompanied his bride on these expeditions. She'd loved the rain so.
This brought him to a place where he was younger, in his late twenties, and he'd fallen for her so easily, just like he'd fallen for Eliza. Eliza's daughter had stayed with him for a while-she'd been dark-haired and untamed, not at all like shy, fair Sarah-and hadn't been much company. He'd missed having a lady to spend his fortune on and pamper.
He concluded that perhaps Sarah would be his last chance to fall in love. She was beautiful, yes, and carried herself well, but she was cultured, and so much more. He knew she was young and he'd been more lonely of late than ever, since he'd met this unique beauty. Although he felt Mr. Jennings spoke the truth, he didn't know how long she'd stay.
At last Mr. Jennings left the Colonel to his thoughts and met Elinor in the hallway outside. "Your wife is inquiring after Brandon's quiet rarities of gossip." She whispered lightheartedly. "Yes, I do believe gentlemen prefer blondes." He replied with a smile