Chapter Three
Elinor was most bewildered as to her sister's decision to continue to stay in London even though she was not intending to seek Willoughby out. More bewildering still was her refusal to take part in any discussion regarding a marriage to him. Yes, he was engaged; yes he was an abominable wretch for abandoning Marianne so, but in the eyes of society, unless she could be married and quickly, Marianne would soon have an irremovable blot on her character. For herself, Elinor was not so worried. She had already despaired of her own chances at happiness and it was for her sister alone she now strove and schemed. Despite anyone's feeling on the matter, the most sensible course seemed for Marianne to marry Willoughby.
Bringing it about might be difficult; impossible even with the financial strain the Dashwoods were under, but for Marianne to not even entertain the thought of trying... Elinor was hard pressed to understand it. She mused on the possibility of doing her best to bring it about without Marianne's approval. Perhaps if someone could pay Willoughby a grand amount and everything was settled without her involvement, Marianne would see that there was no other way.
But who could possibly care to help them in such a fashion? Certainly not John. Even if her uncle was inclined to help in any way, the nature of their distress would only be cause for Fanny's scorn who would just as soon wash her hands of the whole business and persuade her husband to do the same. It was clear there would be no help from the Dashwoods.
She suspected that if Colonel Brandon was aware he would be moved to offer what assistance he could. There was no doubt he harboured great affection for Marianne and was a good and honourable man. He would not like her to suffer society's derision even under the circumstances of her degradation, though his willingness to assist did not matter as their situation was not something that might be brought to his attention through polite means.
Elinor was spared the torturous circles her mind was driving her to with the maid's sudden announcement of the Colonel himself.
This time, rather than beginning with dainty sips of tea and formal inquiries, they found it mutually beneficial to forgo all preliminary niceties. Elinor greeted him in earnest, thanking him for coming with no small emotion in her voice.
Colonel Brandon nodded once and tersely, telling her he needed no thanks for such an errand.
"How is your sister?" His tone was all concern and feeling, not willing to waste time on unnecessary stiffness.
"Marianne suffers cruelly," Elinor answered with a frankness that somewhat surprised even her. "I cannot... tell you the extent of all her troubles, for it is a burden not easily shared. However, I can say that circumstances being what they are, I am at quite a loss as to how I might help her. I tried to persuade her to come home, but she is resolved not to return to Barton for the duration of her... that is... forgive me, Colonel. It is impossible for me to continue without betraying her deepest confidence."
"Perhaps... I..." The Colonel lighted a finger on the back of the settee, skimming the curve of the back as he considered how he was to proceed. It was the most like losing his composure Elinor had ever witnessed in the Colonel, excepting the day he'd made haste to flee from their Delaford picnic."Miss Dashwood, may I relate to you some circumstances which nothing but an earnest desire of being useful..."
Elinor's breath caught in her throat as she anticipated his intentions. "You have something to tell me of Mr. Willoughby." It was stated rather than put as a question. She had long sensed that the Colonel had more than one reason to dislike Mr. Willoughby, and he possessed too good a temperament for jealousy to rule his disdain absolutely.
Colonel Brandon inclined his head to confirm her suspicions and carried on. "When I had quitted Barton last—no. I must go further back. No doubt... no doubt," he emphasised, "Mrs. Jennings has apprised you of certain events in my past. The sad outcome of my connection to a woman called Elizabeth."
Elinor assented that she had been informed of something regarding that history by Mrs. Jennings.
Haltingly—sometimes averting his gaze as if to recall a sorry detail from the past, or lowering his eyes to dwell on pleasanter thoughts—he continued. "Less commonly known is that twenty years ago, before she died, Eliza bore an illegitimate child. The father, whoever he was, abandoned them. Eliza begged me to look after the child. I had failed her in every other way; I could not refuse her now. I took the child, also Elizabeth—Beth, we called her—and she was raised with a family in the country. I admit... I spoiled her." This he spoke with a heavy sigh. "I allowed her too much freedom. Every indulgence I afforded her. Nothing was denied her that I could possibly offer, and I offered her much."
Here he paused as if reaching a particularly painful part of his narrative. "Almost a year ago, she disappeared. For eight months I was left to imagine the worst. On the day of the Delford picnic I had the news that would hasten me away to her. She was... with child, and the blackguard who had left her with no hint of his whereabouts..."
"Do you mean Willoughby?" Elinor finished hoarsely as she paled.
"It was his reprehensible dalliance with Beth that drove Mrs. Smith to cut him off unless he married her, and being steeped in debt and faced with the prospect of losing his only income, a marriage to your sister would have, in his mind no doubt, ruined him completely."
"So he abandoned Marianne for Miss Grey and her fifty thousand pounds."
The Colonel seemed as pained to relate his account as Elinor was to hear it, but he said by way of defence, "I would not have burdened you had I not believed... in time, it might lessen your sister's regrets."
"Oh, Colonel, if you only knew the extremity of my sister's regrets..." unable to continue without spoiling Marianne's trust, she put a hand to her newly aching head and sighed.
"I have described Mr. Willoughby as the worst of libertines," the Colonel said, "but I have it on good authority that he did mean to propose that day, and would have were it not..." here he paused, meditated, and after a click or two from the little clock in the room he said, "Whatever his conduct may be, he did love your sister and would have married her had it not been..."
"For the money," she finished at last.
"I do wish," he said after an interval of strained silence, "that you might entreat your sister to return to her mother. I do not recommend that you thwart her outright; she must know her own mind and what situation will more positively affect her constitution. However, London gossip is never kind and I would hope her free of its retribution. If plans for travel are arranged I insist you permit me to accompany you and your sister on the journey to Barton. Furthermore, if I may be of any small service to you or to her, do not hesitate to send for me. I am utterly at your service."
"Thank you, Colonel," Elinor said with feeling, "We are so thankful for your kindness. I know I may speak for Marianne in this regard, though she may not have the strength of mind to say so at present."
As was his custom, he nodded his understanding, only this time it was accompanied by the faintest of smiles.
After the Colonel had departed, Elinor took a tray up to Marianne. She was still stricken with melancholy but she made an effort to try a little of everything Elinor had brought in order to please her, and the teapot was a great deal lighter when it was taken down than when it had gone up.
When Elinor was satisfied that she had eaten all she was able, she told Marianne the entirety of the conversation that had passed between herself and the Colonel. Marianne listened with no interruption, choosing rather to gaze listlessly at the floor, but there was no doubt to Elinor that she gave her full attention.
At the last, Elinor remarked, "At least you may be certain that he loved you."
"Perhaps in his way," Marianne murmured forlornly and dabbing at a crumb on her gown, "But not as he should have."
Elinor had no sentiments of encouragement to relay so she turned to matters more practical.
"As for the Colonel... Marianne, I believe he may be our only hope for aid."
Marianne coloured at his mention and her features became altogether more alert. "How can you possibly imagine the Colonel is in a position to help us?"
"He is all kindness and concern, and I do not think he will turn you away if you ask him. Look at how he helped those poor girls before."
"But to grovel for aid... No, Elinor," she said at her sister's pained expression, "You must not think me too proud. It is not the act of seeking help that is so repugnant, but the fact that I must tarnish the image that good man has of me. I am so ashamed. Worse, I am the lowest of the low! How can I face him?" New tears began to trail down her cheeks, and Elinor felt her own heart breaking for her.
"What else are we to do? I will go to him myself if you prefer, dearest. But we have no connections, no money with which to force Willoughby to marry you. I cannot contrive of anyone else that might have the means and willingness to help us unfortunate sisters."
"Surely you are not suggesting that I ask the Colonel for help in persuading Willoughby to marry me!" Marianne cried. "I will not listen to such a notion! Even were he to be dissuaded from the great fortune of Miss Grey, which would require an enormous sum, to be trapped in a marriage with such a... a false man, always wondering if one bad turn or misfortune will send him galloping off to find money by any means; to live with a faithless scoundrel who may abandon us the moment hardships arise or he no longer finds me an amusing diversion to his gambling? No, you cannot be so unjust as to suggest it, Elinor."
"Perhaps you need not marry Willoughby, but what else are we to do? Where are you to go? I only mean that whatever your path might be, there is no more sensible solution than to seek the Colonel's help."
For a little while, Marianne mused in silence, taking in all her sister had told her.
"Is it sensible?" she murmured after a time, more to herself than for Elinor's benefit.
What did she know of being sensible after all? If Elinor said it was so, she would believe it to be true; absurd as it sounded that the austere and upright Colonel Brandon would want anything to do with such a wretched woman as herself. But she had promised to take her sister's counsel from now on, and if Elinor said that seeking the Colonel's help was sensible and right she would do it, however ridiculous it seemed to her own mind.
And what a respite it would be to be put up somewhere secretly so as not to wound her mother, disgrace her sisters, and be exposed to the cruel consequences of a ruined reputation. The hope that such thoughts awakened in her made her restless to begin seeking help at once.
As she brushed the crumbs from off her covers with a heart somewhat lightened by having a plan of action to take on the morrow, she realised that for the first time in a very long while, Elinor's sense and her own sentiments were in perfect agreement.
Author's Whinging: The fan fiction document keeps underlining my British words in red! Uncultured colonist! *haughty sniff* *sips tea dismissively*
Oh, yes! And I'm terribly sorry for being so late on the update! I was dying of heat stroke (a slight exaggeration) and then trying on my wedding gown and shoes and veil and everything with my sample bouquet. My Beta/Maid of Honour can vouch for me!