Colonel Brandon POV
Penelope drops my tea on the Turkish carpet. So far it's been a tray with scones and a bowl of peach cobbler.
"I'm so sorry, sir, I'm so sorry", she wails.
I can't help but laugh. "You're on a roll today, Penelope."
"I'm so sorry..."
"Don't be so concerned, but I'm curious if there's something wrong", I ask.
"Why?", she pulls at her collar.
"You seem nervous."
"Not nervous, sir, just..."
I pull my dressing robe closed tighter. Maybe she's uncomfortable.
"You can tell me anything, Penelope, if you're uncomfortable, or..."
"No, I know you know."
I raise an eyebrow. "You know I know what? Your English sounds almost as befuddled as an American's! What's troubling you?"
"Nothing, sir."
"Penelope..."
"About the man. The mistress said you know about the man. Who comes to visit. He was touching her and kissing her..." She slaps a hand over her mouth. "Oh I'm so sorry, sir, I wasn't supposed to say anything. The mistress said you know about him, and that she would handle it herself. She showed him right out the door she did. She didn't let him linger."
I can't think, blink, swallow. This is what it feels like when your entire world comes crashing down in the course of seconds. When your worst nightmare becomes reality.
"Did she allow him to kiss her?", I ask, feeling the greatest of fools. Here I am, a decorated Colonel, a grown man in my own home, asking my maid about my wife's sexual activities.
"I couldn't tell, sir. She pushed him away when I came in", she squeaks.
"I see. Will you go upstairs and tell Mrs. Brandon to pack a bag for a long trip, and that she's going to her mother's cottage today. Can you do that for me, Penelope?"
"Oh course, sir", she answers, scurrying away, grateful to get out of my company.
I only wish I could get out of my own.
Marianne POV
"Christopher, why are we going back to Barton Cottage so soon?", I ask.
"Are you packed?", he asks.
"No", I laugh, "I came to ask you why you want to go back so soon."
"I'm not going anywhere, you are."
"I don't understand..."
"I didn't ask if you understood!", he bellows and a book falls off the shelf. I jump and wrap my arms around myself. "You have a quarter hour, then carriage leave with you whether you have your belongings or not."
"Christopher!"
He walks right past me.
"I couldn't help it, Mistress, it just came out!", Penelope wails.
"WHAT just came out, Penelope", I scream back at her.
"Don't raise your voice to her, as she's the only female under this roof who seems to be able to tell me the truth", he hisses. "How long have you..."
His head crashes into his hands. "No, no, no. I'm going to ask nothing because I would stop being a gentleman when I got the answers. You're going to her mother's to stay, Marianne."
"No!I did nothing wrong! He broke in again, and I told him to get out! Did she mention that?!", I scream, but he just rubs his forehead.
"Quiet, I'm warning you."
"I pushed him out! I told him I'm married to you!", I insist.
His fist moves faster than I could have ever predicted, and smashes into the wall above my head. The plaster cracks and a bit tumbles down, turning my hair white in spots.
I scream and gasp, guarding myself with my hands.
"I...oh my God, Marianne, are you injured?", he asks.
"Of course not, the wall might need a little first aid though", I spit.
He squeezes his eyes closed, and his voice breaks. "Congratulations, Marianne, now I don't just hate you, I hate myself too. I apologize. My reaction is unforgivable."
"You have no reason to hate yourself! For goodness sakes, Christopher, you're furious, you hit a WALL. You would never hurt me, you think I don't know that? Just let me explain..."
"I've heard enough."
"No..."
"I should have left you with him. Right there with that child-rapist in the gutter where I found you", he spits.
I explode in sobs and my knees hit the floor. But he loves me. He would forgive anything. I don't understand.
I don't fight getting in the carriage and leaving. That would be nothing but ugly. But I'm not giving up or accepting this.
I sob all the way to Barton Cottage. The driver lets me out, puts my bags on the ground, and leaves me there without a word.
I knock, and the door opens. Mamma panics immediately.
"Marianne! What has happened?! Marianne, talk to me!", Mother howls as I fall on her doorstep sobbing.
Colonel Brandon POV
A knock. Really? Now? It's after 9 pm, unseemly time for visitors.
"Tell whoever it is to return in the morning", I scream out to Beryl. I don't think I can stand. The bottle of brandy that was full hours ago has one more glass in it.
The door opens. "I said...!"
Sir John Middleton tromps in.
"My God, man", he starts.
"Don't say a word, you have no idea what she's done."
"I heard about all of it", he corrects, "Where do you think they are right now, but with my mother in law, all crying and drying their tears in promises of new gowns and jewelry and trips to town. You'll make me go broke."
"Go home", I direct him.
"Brandon, this is unlike you. You don't even really know what happened. Marianne knows what he did to your ward, Beth. I don't believe she wants him back", he starts.
"She was kissing him. It's the third time he's visited her, third time he's touched her, that she failed to tell me he was here. Only God knows what else she's done that I don't know about."
"The intensity of your feelings is blinding you", he says, "You're not being rational. I don't know if you can be, where she's concerned."
"She clearly thinks she made a mistake. She wants him back. If she weren't my wife, I'd say, let her have him. But...", I start.
"You're finally going to call him out?", he asks.
"She begged me not to. Doesn't want her beloved to get hurt", I respond, draining the rest of my glass.
"She cared for him, and she knows how you shoot, and that this will be your second duel. She knows you'll kill him this time. There are many people you don't want to be married to whom you would not like shot. She probably doesn't want either of you hurt", he preaches. "But that changes nothing. Women are soft hearted. Your job is to protect her from everything, including her own folly. You know you have to kill him."
"Yes, but I don't relish killing even a deviant like him", I answer.
"That speaks well of you. Personally, I'd enjoy the hell out of it at this point. If he's simply accosted her, and she's not encouraged him or...worse, there is no reason to get rid of her, Brandon. I know how you feel about her..."
"You don't!", I bellow, "You don't know how I feel about her. You have no idea."
"Probably not", he accedes. "My mother in law noticed how besotted you were over a year ago."
I stand up and get another bottle off the mantle. "Do yourself a favor, Middleton", I advise, and hurl my glass into the fireplace, where it shatters loudly, "Pray you never love anyone the way I love her."
"She makes me...not myself", I continue. I hold up bruised and bleeding knuckles. "I hit the wall painfully close to her. I was not a gentleman."
"Some gentlemen would have hit someone other than the wall", Middleton whispers.
"Some "gentlemen" are animals", I respond back.
"She's YOURS, Brandon. She married you. Returning to him was never a choice. You know she didn't...you know that. Your children will be your own. So take her back and lay down the law. She's a very foolish young woman", he insists.
"Lay down the law, Middleton, really... I'm not that kind of man, or that kind of husband, and you know it", I respond.
"You were that kind of Colonel."
"'S different", I insist, gulping. "I have no desire to hold a woman prisoner. If she would prefer to be with someone else, then let her be happy."
He shakes his head at me as if at a pathetic creature.
"Fine. I will give you no more advice on the condition that you do not give up on your bride. And that you finally rid the county of that menace to young women."
I rub between my eyes. "I should have killed him the first time I saw him."
"Live and learn", Middleton says. He grabs the bottle out of my hand, and I snatch it back. "Go to bed, Brandon. I return to the ladies. In the morning, everything will be clearer."
"Unfortunately", I comment, swigging straight from the bottle.
He shakes his head sadly. "I do not envy the head nor stomach you will have tomorrow, Brandon."
"Leave them and my own judgement to me", I insist.
He rolls his eyes. "She never stops crying or saying how much she loves you", he comments. It gives me a moment's hesitation.
"We have very different definitions of what a marriage is. But I can't think of her right now. He has to go, then we'll see where we stand."
"Cutlasses again?", he asks.
"My old Cavalry pistol will do. There's an end to it this time, one way or another."