Is there any Felicity in the World Superior to This?

Part Six

The three of them only managed another few moments before the silence grew much too awkward to bear and Elinor said tentatively, a brave smile pulling at her face: 'Now I can see why you decided not to tell Margaret about this, Edward…she would no doubt be completely wild with adventurous zeal.' Edward only managed a weak smile in return.

'Has – anything happened – to Mr. Farley, Edward?' murmured Marianne finally, looking up at last from her reverie. 'It has been days since I last heard of him –'

Edward exchanged an uncertain glance with her sister, before Elinor rejoined quietly: 'Yes, indeed, there has, Marianne. (looking at Edward for support) You see, Mr. Farley is to be married at the end of the month.'

'Married? But – to whom?'

Edward took this an immediate cue to burst in. 'A certain Miss Graham of London, if I am not mistaken…he left only the day before precisely for preparations.' He dared not tell Marianne of the source of this information or the reason…the idea of describing Farley as merely another example of Willoughby and Miss Graham as another 'Eliza' was unthinkable.

'Oh, I see…' Edward and Elinor shared yet another uneasy glance at this; Marianne's state of resignation was disturbing in comparison to her usual jovial spirits.

The risk of another spell of awkward silence was immediately dispelled by the arrival of Thomas in the doorway whose awkward and guilty countenance showed only too well that he had accidentally eavesdropped on every single word that had been shared between them.

'Begging your pardon, Miss Dashwood,' he started gruffly as he attempted a nod of apology in Edward's direction; it was accepted with a fervent nod in return. 'But Colonel Brandon's just arrived from Delaford, ma'am and he wishes to speak to you privately on a matter of –'

Thomas was stopped here by the arrival of the announced himself. His expression was inexplicable, his gloved hands were visibly wrapped tightly about the brim of his hat.

'Thank you, Thomas…you may leave now – Good afternoon, Miss –Mr. Ferrars!' Having only seen Marianne as he entered, the two figures that had been seated in the shadow of the doorway had escaped his notice. Brandon stepped back slightly in surprise before bowing gracefully as the party rose immediately to its feet. Regaining his composure, he soon added solemnly: 'I hope I have not caused any interruption to your visit, Mrs. Ferrars.'

Elinor smiled graciously; much too relieved at the timely interruption of the Colonel's visit to effectively argue against the idea. 'On the contrary, Colonel…we were only about to leave for the parsonage.'

'Indeed,' rejoined Edward quietly, his gaze darting surreptitiously about the room for any form of means of supporting their claim before bending to retrieve his hat. His wife quickly followed suit. It was fortunate then for the good parson that Mrs. Dashwood made her well-timed appearance in the sitting room.

Like startled deer, the faces of those present flew to hers instantly. It was only with a quick and decisive glance upon the startled faces of those before her that Mrs. Dashwood, with all her feminine and motherly instincts instantly recognised the situation awkwardly unfolding before her…but she dared not put it out in the open. It was very obvious that her eldest daughter and her husband were most eager to leave and the Colonel, the poor man, was in much need of desperate privacy.

'Colonel Brandon, what a pleasure to see you,' she managed with admirable charm and Brandon could simply do nothing but bow and smile slightly in return.

'And the same to you, ma'am – '

'Colonel Brandon!' Margaret, no doubt suspicious of the sudden silence and stillness that had taken hold of the cottage's inhabitants, had chosen precisely this moment to make her incongruously unsuitable and noisy entrance, trailing scattered shoots of grass about the floor, no doubt remnants of a muddy inspection of the garden conducted only moments before. This unlikely vision was very oddly welcomed by all, especially in the eyes of Mrs. Dashwood, who, although she had never seen her youngest daughter in so untidy a state, welcomed her as if she was oblivious to everything but her convenient and timely presence.

'Ah, Margaret, there you are at last! I have been looking for you for the past half hour!' cried her mother in a voice that did little to hide her nervousness; it trembled slightly and she was greeted with an almost comical look of bewilderment from her youngest daughter, which would have undoubtedly drawn a few merry chuckles had not the situation been so uncomfortable and poor Margaret stumbled about in her mother's wake, clearly as one who had not the faintest idea what her mother was proposing. It was then that Marianne and Brandon finally exchanged their first glance, a fleeting nervous and bemused look flew across their faces before the latter chose wisely to look away. In the midst of their confusion, Mrs. Dashwood quickly broke into her stride, gracefully approaching the door and retrieving her bonnet and gloves with a much disorientated Margaret at her heels.

'I certainly hope you are unengaged at the parsonage this afternoon, Mr. Ferrars,' breathed Mrs. Dashwood unabashedly as a thoroughly startled Edward greeted her appearance with an immediate nod of assent. '…as – ' She glanced desperately at her youngest daughter who was now so tangled up within the ribbons of her bonnet that she gave the impression that she had suddenly transformed into some wild and exotic form of bird. 'As –'

Elinor caught the imploring expression in her mother's eyes. 'As I have invited you and Margaret to join us for dinner this evening, mamma – of course,' added Elinor quickly and rolling her eyes briefly at the ceiling in exasperation at her apparent forgetfulness. 'Of course…' she added with no small amount of subtlety at her husband's look of complete bewilderment in her direction.

'Of course!' rejoined her mother abruptly, deliberately sounding louder than usual over Margaret's determined shout of 'But!' as she was roughly bundled through the cottage door; her eyes, though thoroughly hidden behind the tangle of ribbons, no less larger than her brother-in-law's.

The party were soon prepared to leave, along with a thoroughly bemused Thomas and Betsy, the latter still having her thread and needle in her hands (such was the state of desperate anxiety in which they were immediately fetched!) who Edward stated were dearly needed at the parsonage for the time being; the parish cook having taken ill due to the extreme cold of the previous evening.

Amidst this wild confusion, Colonel Brandon had said nothing, his features drawn into a polite smile at the party's quick departure but beneath this apparent ignorance of the situation unfolding before him, he was amazed at the speed at which the Ferrarses and Mrs. Dashwood quickly ascertained the purpose of his being here. His quick eyes had not been blind to the apparent bluffness in Elinor's manner and Edward's utter look of total bewilderment…nor had he mistaken the nervousness that had shook, albeit momentarily, in Mrs. Dashwood's voice. Had the intent and earnest expression on his face shown too clearly? He certainly felt quite a fool in his being the cause of such wanton disarray in the emotions of the people that he loved most…he dared a fleeting glance in Marianne's direction, noted the obvious discomfiture upon her strained expression and felt his confidence, which had heretofore sustained itself, wane flaggingly.

The party left – and the both of them were left alone. Alone with their thoughts, their fears – and a deafening silence.