"Come, Beth, you must have a moment's rest"

Marianne gently urged the young girl from her diligent watch over her son. "The Doctor says we are doing the best for him"

"But he is not getting better" whispered Beth, almost too afraid to give the next words breath, "I am so afraid I will lose him"

"Not all babies die from this fever" assured Marianne. "My sister Margret was afflicted at a similar age and survived, I myself am a testament to overcoming fever"

"John is so small, he always has been," said Beth, "they were so sure he'd die in the birth but he never did"

A feeble weak cry left the tiny babies mouth, sending both women to his cradle.

Marianne would never admit it to Beth, but she feared even the greatest hope may not bring this child back to health.

This almost nightmarish state was interrupted by a commotion from outside, what sounded like a carriage flew over the pebbles as if being pursued by some beast.

"It's the Colonel" cried Beth, rushing to the window.

Marianne's heart leapt and fell with such a twisting pain she felt as if she would faint. Two figures emerged from the carriage neither of them her beloved Colonel.

Fanny Dashwood was in some hysterical fit, cursing the very ground her son walked on, dragging the now eighteen-year-old Henry Dashwood towards the door.

"Who is that woman?" asked Beth, utterly lost to the connection. "Marianne, is she a relation of some sort?"

"My-my sister in law, whom I cannot understand why chose to come here" replied Marianne, hurriedly leaving Beth in more confusion than before.


Mr Laine and Mrs Andrews were trying to prevent Fanny from bringing the house down around them, her insistent howling did not stop until Marianne appeared at the top of the stairs.

"Fanny whatever is the matter?" she cried.

"Marianne, oh Marianne" replied Fanny. "You know I have never held yourself, or quite frankly much of your mother's family at least, in high regard but I am left with no other option"

Swallowing her insult Marianne inquired, "I do not understand Madam?"

"I am leaving my son in your care" proclaimed Fanny, "he needs time away from London and its hideous temptations, he cannot be trusted to maintain his dignity or uphold the family honour"

Henry Dashwood finally spoke, "Mother please" he muttered.

"I won't hear another word" cried his mother. "You need time in the country with respectable people-well- she paused "those with respectable husbands anyhow to cleanse your mind and soul of these rebellious behaviours!" Barely taking a moment to breathe she continued; "Marianne, my girl, where is the Colonel, I must speak with him about this boys re-education, as a military man I shall expect him of all people to reinstall some well-needed discipline!"

"Madam" replied Marianne, finally allowed to speak added, "The Colonel is away on business, I do not have any indication of his returning in the near future"

Fanny's face fell with such force, if it could have detached and landed on the floor it would have done so. "Not here you say?"

"I am afraid so, why not place Henry with his Uncle Edward?" suggested Marianne.

Fanny scoffed, "I fear that would only make things worse, Edward has no spine in these matters, I need strength of character, of which my brother, God preserve him, has little to none"

"How long do you propose Henry should stay?" asked Marianne.

Fanny took this as an acceptance, "Ah my dear, I knew you would come to sense eventually, I knew I could leave him in your care"

"Madam please I think you misunderstand me, this place is not fit for visitors-"

In a whirlwind of hurried farewells and closed ears to reason, Fanny was away in her carriage and Henry stood in the hall, with several trunks thrust at his feet.

It had been many years since Marianne had seen her cousin, ever since Margaret was born, and their brother established as the only possible heir of Norland he had been sent away to a school for young boys, to further his education and prepare him for his role in society. He was now a young man, much in his father's image, but with his mother's fair hair, seemingly well built and had a pleasant air, if at the moment, mighty embarrassed.

"Cousin" he bowed, "I can only apologise"

"Henry dear, you are most welcome" assured Marianne. "But I wish your mother would have stayed but a moment longer. You see-" she paused. "There is a relation of the Colonel staying with me, and the infant she is caring for is terribly ill. I fear this is no place for a young man to find-well-whatever your mother wishes you to discover"

"I can try and be of help" he replied. "it was trying to learn the craft that got me into this mess"

Marianne ventured no further on the subject but addressed her servants that still stood in some shock "Mrs Andrews, please make up the bed in the Blue Room, Master Dashwood will be quite happy there. And Mr Laine, have his luggage taken up and tell the cook we shall have another for dinner"

Both servants quickly set about their tasks and Henry added, "I am most grateful Marianne, I will not get in your way"

"Henry, it is delightful to have another friendly face around the house" replied Marianne.


Dinner that evening had an atmosphere somewhat shifted from the ease that Marianne had come to enjoy. A new and unknown character kept everyone guarded.

Marianne greeted Henry in the dining room as planned, he had out of habit dressed for dinner but felt a social embarrassment as he saw there was no need to stand on ceremony.

Beth slipped in behind Marianne, and for the first time caught sight of this mysterious Henry Dashwood.

"Henry, may I introduce Miss Elizabeth Brandon," said Marianne, watching the pair make their acquaintance.

"I prefer Beth" she smiled, curtsying gracefully.

"The pleasure is all mine, Miss Beth" replied Henry, trying his best not to stare.

Quite without realising Marianne had forgotten what a beauty her young friend truly was, noticing an interest appear in Henry from the start.

The conversation over dinner was bright and cheerful before Henry asked about the baby, "I hear you have a child in your care, Miss Beth, I am sorry to hear they are unwell,"

"Yes," said Beth, lowering her cutlery, "It is most regrettable"

"And it's mother?" he asked, "Is she ill also?"

"No" replied Beth, ignoring the eye contact of Marianne, after a deep breath choosing to add "I am in good health"

Henry stopped eating abruptly, "Oh forgive me, I did not know you were married", glancing down at her ringless finger. "Marianne did introduce you as Miss Brandon did she not?"

"I am not married" Beth replied, sharply. "Nor do I wish to be"

She did not wait for the reaction of her young acquaintance, rising from her chair with some force she left the room in silence.

"I-I again apologise Marianne" stammered Henry. "I have once again caused you inconvenience tonight, first with my arrival, now with my foolishness" He also rose from the table, despite Marianne's urges to stay, Henry was heard swiftly ascending the stairs.


The night, no one in the house would find rest nor peace.

It was nearing sunrise when an animalistic scream shattered the uneasy silence of Delaford.

Marianne flew from her bed, scrambling for her shawl in the light blue haze of the early morning.

A dazed Henry had also jumped from his bed, the pair meeting in the corridor, he following Marianne towards the source of the noise, regrettably Beth's bedroom.

There kneeling on the floor was Beth, cradling the limp body of baby John, without noise or restraint she shook with sobs before another bitter wail of grief left her throat.

Marianne felt tears well in her eyes but none came, instinctively staggering forwards, she enveloped Beth in her arms.

Henry, quite shaken by the image of death and despair stood like stone in the doorway, tears falling without his knowledge clouded his view for some time.

It was Marianne's voice that brought him back, "Henry, come here"

He obeyed, suddenly becoming the comforter to Beth who was beyond help, as Marianne desperately tried to find life in the small baby's frame.

"Come on sweet one" she whispered, rubbing his limbs to create warmth, next reaching for water that lay beside her, she watched helplessly as it trickled back out of his tiny mouth. She listened and waited for breath, prayed for his pulse to return but the child was at last, still. It was clear that baby John was dead.

Wrapping him up again, she lifted him into her arms, turning back to Beth who for a moment had dared to hope, fell into a new wave of suffering as her fears were confirmed. The very child she had lived for, the only connection to a man she still perhaps loved, was gone.


It had not been since the death of Mrs Brandon the senior did Delaford show such a display of grief.

Beth was desperate to withhold the burial as long as she could, hoping beyond hope that the Colonel would return, but after almost a week she finally gave consent.

The funeral was private and small, word around the town was quashed, the child being buried was a relation of the Colonels, that was the limit the gossips would speculate.

Marianne stood as a mother with Beth, Henry Dashwood taking the place of the Colonel beside her. Grief could not cover the pain they felt as the gravediggers emptied the earth on top of the tiny coffin.

Beth remained at the gravesite for much of the day, at times so overcome with her loss, she routinely began to claw at the mound of earth, convinced she could hear her son's pitiful cries from below the surface.

It was Henry who eventually managed to pull her away if only to let the gravesmen make arrangements for the headstone.

The vicar stood at a distance with Marianne, "You will further express my deepest sympathies to Miss Brandon-it is Miss isn't it?" he said.

"Yes Sir" replied Marianne, "I do hope that does not change anything?"

"Christ was called to help those who needed him" urged the Vicar. "She is one certainly in need"

"Thank you, Vicar" replied Marianne mechanically.

"I am surprised that the Colonel has not returned from his trip, the business keeping him must be fierce to prevent him from joining you at this time," said the Vicar. "It is most unlike him to behave-"

"Thank you but I really must be going," said Marianne, cutting in, "Gooday"


Delaford hung in a state of grief for many days, Marianne was desperate for Elinor's company but it would only lead to grief as her little baby would undoubtedly accompany her, and that was a pain she knew Beth could not bear.

A thousand letters were written and thrown in the fire to her beloved Brandon, every time Marianne knew not where to send it. The separation would be foul enough, but it was the silence that imprisoned her. The newspapers became her only way of learning her husband's fate, she tore over gossip columns, full of news on who and where the rich stayed in Bath and each day she dreaded the obituaries, counting the imprisoned and worse; the dead.

Marianne planned to go and search for him, a hundred times she'd send for the carriage only to dismiss the order a moment later. She knew she could not leave Delaford, she could not leave Beth.

But to her surprise, the weight of Beth's grief was not left entirely to her. An unusual bond was beginning to grow between Henry and Beth, one which, in hindsight, the Colonel and undoubtedly Fanny would have opposed. However, Marianne partly in selfishness and partly in secret curiosity, let the pair spend hours alone wondering, what, if anything would come from it.