Marianne POV
I sit in the sandy grass near the beach, helping Margaret find tadpoles in the fresh water spring. She loves to examine them closely, study their eating habits, and then put them all back in the water. She could be a scientist if her sex didn't hold her back. Maybe we all could be something.
We dine often at Barton Park, at Mrs. Jennings's insistence, but my mother and I also insist on maintaining our independence. My mother is upset, but correct. We have no idea how the fallout from this will affect our relationship with the Middletons, and if they would even continue to let us live in the cottage if the worst happened and the Colonel chose to divorce me for adultery. I would be marked as essentially "untouchable" by society, and could only be saved by a subsequent marriage to Willoughby, who is now simply too rich to ignore, whatever is said behind his back. But that will never happen. If only our sex didn't hold us back.
Sir John speaks as though we're already reconciled, but refuses to say another word about how the Colonel does. He said it would be a few days; it's been a few weeks.
And I'm no closer to unraveling Willoughby's riddle about being certain he'd win a duel. Maybe it was nothing but bravado, but one thing John Willoughby has never been is stupid.
I help Margaret scoop up a little fish to add to her aquarium, and prepare for a dinner at home. We have fried turkey and broiled partridges with cabbage and my mother's favorite tart berry sauce. For dessert, there are eclairs Mother picked up in town. Receiving largesse from both Christopher, and Edward when he can, our mother and Margaret are no longer living hand to mouth.
"Oh Marianne, please cheer up", my mother begs as I push the chocolate around on my plate. "You've always been the cheeriest, the one who laughs the most, and wears her heart on her sleeve and now...Marianne, you can't imagine he means to leave you. I don't know everything, but I know how that man looks when he sees you."
"Thank you", I say, taking her hand, and wiping a tear off my cheek. "I just need some air." I hear my mother sigh sadly, and Margaret propose a game of Whist she's just learning.
"Pleeeease play with me and go for a walk tomorrow!", she begs.
"Oh fine", I agree, and play cards with Margaret for hours before we both fall asleep. I notice she walks into my bedroom like she owns the place and plops down in Elinor's bed. Dear Margaret.
Next morning, I cannot find Momma. Margaret is out playing at the stream again, and I call her in for the breakfast of fresh eggs and fried ham our mother's new cook has prepared.
"Where on earth is momma?", I ask.
"She said to tell you she was going out for the entire day, and not to worry, but that we could not know her destination. I think that's very rude of her, don't you? We may have had fun going with her", Margaret offers.
She wouldn't have...would she? No, I am bolder than she is, and even I wouldn't just show up on his doorstep unannounced and unwelcome. Perhaps she went into the village for the farmers' market. Margaret and I both dig into our breakfasts.
Mary Dashwood POV
The hour flies by too fast and my carriage rattles up to the front door of Delaford. I step out of the carriage and approach the door, but I don't even get to knock before a large woman in a green dress, with apron and mob cap, opens the door.
"Aye?", she asks, "I mean, "yes?". The butler is out", she offers. "What brings you 'ere?"
"I need to see Colonel Brandon immediately", I offer.
"And 'oo might you be?", she asks, looking me up and down.
"His mother-in-law", I insist. She curtsies quickly. "Didn't know you is all. Wait 'ere and I'll tell the Colonel you want to see him."
I roll my eyes. I would have fired staff like that long ago. She must be dear to him.
The Colonel comes out wearing a thick leather glove for hunting with his hawk, which he lays on a chair. "Welcome Mum", he says approaching me, then bows and falls silent. He looks terrible. The lines around his mouth and eyes are deeper than they were a week ago.
"I know it is inappropriate for me to be here, and you must think I've come to defend my daughter whatever her actions, but that is not the case", I insist.
"I would not do you the disservice, Mrs. Dashwood, but I do wonder why you're here, yes", he says.
"I want to know when you will speak to her", I insist, my heart pounding. My head is pounding. The room begins to spin. "I want to know..."
"Mum!", he booms in alarm. The next thing I know I am laid out on a masculine smelling leather piece of furniture in his study. He's lived here alone too long.
"I apologize for frightening you, Colonel", I say. He is perched over me as if he's been worrying to death.
"You have nothing to apologize for, mum, but you must take care of yourself first. You should not be here, you cannot endure the stress..."
"I've endured more than you could imagine", I state. "I am speaking of my daughter. When will you at least speak to your own wife? She does nothing but cry. I hear her scream your name at night..."
He looks down at the floor. "She does not love me", he says, maintaining his gaze on the Aubusson carpet. "I am prepared to let her go now, go to the man she's always really wanted, whom she married in her heart."
"She married you!", I shout.
"I must insist you rest, mum, we cannot have this conversation now. Your health is more important...", he continues.
"It's not her fault he still loves her", I say, then fall back on the sofa. "She told him to go away every time he came here."
"She has done nothing but protect him. That seems proof to me that she loves him", he states with that confidence powerful men have. Like he's ordained the truth.
"Maybe you should have taken the time to learn something about your bride", I state rudely. His left eyebrow goes up. "She's terrified you would be hurt or killed in a duel, and it's true, she didn't want harm to come to him either. Marianne takes beetles outside, Sir! She abhors violence!"
"I have upset you, Mum", he says. "You must settle yourself."
"How could you not? You have based your decision to abandon your own wife on hearsay from a servant who witnessed mere moments of an interaction, but you would not listen to a word your own wife had to say. And you threw her out of her own home, bringing scandal upon the both of you, based on the fact that Willoughby keeps pursuing her; he will not give up on her. I wish to God Almighty her own husband had half his devotion. And a drop of common sense." I cannot believe those words just came out of my mouth. I gasp and cover my own mouth, bursting into tears.
"Excuse me", I say, jump up, and leave the room, running outside to get air. If I don't, I will find myself screaming in his face.
"No, you must rest...", he calls after me, but is too dumfounded to do anything else. The butler is now on duty, and he shows me to chair in the dining room and a glass of water. Nearly ten minutes go by.
"I suppose I should go."
But the moment I'm nearly out the door, Brandon is standing beside me, holding my arm.
"I apologize, Colonel..."
He holds up his hand, then looks at the ground. "If your tongue were a weapon, Mum, with you as commander, Britain would never have lost a battle."
I know I must be beet red. "I'm sorry..."
"You gave me nothing I didn't deserve. I needed to be shaken out of self-pity. All the kind words in the world would never have done it. I think the reason I would not hear Marianne had nothing to do with her and everything to do with me.", he states. "You're right. She's my lawful wife. And you of all people know how I feel. But I cannot accept this you from, mum, I must speak to her and find out her side of the story."
"Will you go with me right now, Colonel?", I ask, unable to keep the delight out of my voice.
"I cannot, mum, I have meetings and duties I am required to fulfill today, but I will come as soon as they are over. I believe you should stay here and rest and I will return to the cottage with you. But if you wish to leave now, I insist Forester accompany you", he says.
I'm not leaving and risking him changing his mind. "I believe I will rest", I say.
"I think that is wise, mum. Beryl?", he shouts, and the mountain of a woman I saw before joins us.
"See to a room for Mrs. Dashwood, and tell the upstairs maids to wait upon her every need. I will wake you when it's time to leave", he offers.
Beryl leads me up the stairs, past the master bedroom, and into a guest room. "He's a kind and forgiving man, my master", she offers, "Maybe too much so. I'll instruct the maids to look in on ye."
I shake my head as she leaves. It's clear half the female staff are in love with him, and far too protective of him. They speak their minds when they should be doing their jobs. I wonder how much this element had to do with the situation. This is a long-time bachelor's household, but I promise it will not be when my Marianne moves back in.
I clear my throat and lie down.
Marianne POV
I dry my tears and go out into the darkness. As summer winds down, it's getting darker earlier.
The warm night air is delightful against the black velvet, star-filled sky. I close my eyes and enjoy how gentle the breeze is. I'm too shocked to react when gentleness is replaced by force.
"Shhhhhh", Willoughby hisses in my ear, his hand clamped over my mouth. "I had a damnable time finding you, my love. I visited night after night at Delaford, but imagine my frustration when only Brandon showed. Imagine how I felt when I learned he had turned you out. More convenient than anything I could have hoped for. The old hobblety hoy doesn't want you. Just because I do. He was never anything but a fool. And now you're all mine..."
I try to scream and pull away from him, but his hand just clamps down harder. I feel myself dragged and tossed into a carriage. "You're going home, to your real home", he whispers and slams the carriage door. I don't know where he went, but suddenly the carriage starts moving. I desperately hope he isn't taking me all the way to Combe Magna. And I hope my husband still cares enough to recover me. The situation is hopeless without him.
Colonel Brandon POV
It's late when the carriage rattles up to Barton Cottage. I meant it to be hours earlier, but elected to let Mrs. Dashwood sleep.
I jump out and hand her down. She rushes up the few steps before me and opens the door.
"Marianne?", she calls out. "Margaret?"
It takes a moment to register the child is lying in a heap on the floor under the kitchen table, sobbing.
"Margaret, whatever happened?!", my mother-in-law gasps, but I close my eyes tightly. In my heart, I already know.
"He took her! I heard her scream!", the child gushes.
"Who took who? Marianne?!", Mrs. Dashwood yells.
"Willoughby", the child moans, "He took her. He pushed her in a carriage...he..." Margaret keeps crying.
"Oh my God!", Mrs. Dashwood yells, "I have no idea where he's taken her. If they've gone to Combe Magna, it may take days to catch up."
"He could not taunt me from Somerset, Mum, and he could hardly keep Marianne captive at Allenham because he doesn't know when his aunt will choose to be in residence. Marianne is a great deal closer to home", I say. I sound calm, but cannot see anything. It's like my vision has been taken by white hot rage. I have to keep my cool to recover her safely. "We need to return to Delaford at once."
"You need help!", Mrs. Dashwood insists.
"I will involve no one else in this", I state. "I am perfectly capable of getting my wife out of John Willoughby's clutches."
"You're the last man on earth I would accuse of being incapable, COLONEL", she says, throwing her emphasis on the last word. "But you have friends. You have those who would help you. You don't need to do this alone. It would lower everyone's risk to go with a party. I believe Sir John Middleton would be quite offended if you didn't ask him to come along, besides I cannot leave Margaret alone and must entrust her to Mrs. Jennings. Elinor and Edward are farther away and every moment counts!"
"I want to go!", Margaret wails in the background.
Sighing, I agree. He can stay in the background, but I'm not risking my elderly friend's well-being if he comes between me and Willoughby's bullet. But having him around as a second isn't a bad idea for my confrontation with Mr. Willoughby.
One of us isn't leaving Hattan alive.