Chapter Five
The journey to Dorsetshire was difficult for Marianne. Though the weather was most obliging for travel—being neither too warm for the horses, nor damp for the roads—and though she knew the wearisome miles would bring her to a place of promised solace and security, each jolt and jerk of the coach was especially trying for her. She had gone weeks without proper sleep, and now that the worst of her fears of ruination and wretchedness was behind her, she wanted nothing more than to have a still, quiet place to reacquaint herself with the repose only a good night's sleep could afford. She was not naturally disposed to a strong constitution, but the affliction of a heavy heart was a burden that made any physical ailment increase her suffering tenfold. Now that her heart was eased of one of its greatest burdens, she was not oppressed with the sleeplessness that the anxieties of an uncertain future produced, nor was she prone to impassioned weeping upon every new hour. Still, the affects of suffering both in weeks of succession had taken their toll, and she was weary to the core.
Elinor sat beside Colonel Brandon upon their uniform insistence that Marianne be given the entire seat across to herself. Colonel Brandon bid the driver make frequent stops wherever it was convenient to do so without delaying their arrival by too much, and had provided Marianne with such a number of pillows that were she not at odds with her breakfast she would have been more than comfortable. As it was, she longed for them to reach their destination, and perhaps for Elinor to be a little less attentive, for it made her ill to have to speak to her in return.
Elinor had her own reasons for so frequently asking after her sister's comfort. She could tell that Marianne was unwell and had been unwell since they'd set off, but Marianne seemed determined to pretend otherwise. Though Elinor had caught her several times passing a hand over her stomach with a grimace, or wearily leaning against a pillar so that her head pressed against the cold stone, any attempt to address these signs of distress were met with deceptively cheerful rebuttals and absolute denial, the latter becoming especially forceful in the presence of Colonel Brandon.
Elinor doubted that her sister understood the extent of the Colonel's affection for her. To Marianne, love was all fire and passionately expressed platitudes of undying devotion. To her, love would not forebear silence—it could not endure patience, and Colonel Brandon's ardour was the epitome of such virtues that eluded her so miserably. The wrong done to her by Willoughby had tempered her view on matters of the heart, and cooled some of that feverish perspective, but not so much as to grant her by instantaneous revelation how deeply Colonel Brandon could feel, and certainly did feel for her.
She knew that Marianne wondered at his goodness in marrying her. She knew that it was an inestimable sense of gratitude that now guided her behaviour towards him, though a mutual affection was yet wanting. Marianne understood, and even spoke aloud to Elinor of what an expense the Colonel must have undergone to secure the special license for their marriage, of the sacrifice he was making in so hastily securing her a home and husband with no conceivable gain to his own person. She cheerfully donned her best gown with Elinor's assistance, and followed with minute detail every line of the Colonel's instructions concerning place and appointment for their union with an applied determination Elinor had scarcely seen in her before. It was not urged by a fondness for the good Colonel who took her as wife, however, but a fear that if the union was delayed for any reason, there was a risk he might refuse to take part in the proceedings after all. At this, Elinor could only shake her head in secret grievance for the sake of her brother-in-law, whose tender expression towards Marianne during their exchange of vows, and small but insistent smile when their union was confirmed by the final pronouncement of the bishop made his personal benefit in the match all too clear.
Despite her inability to comprehend the depth of Colonel Brandon's emotions, there was a change in Marianne, and it was made evident by how carefully she tried to dismiss the symptoms of her condition, so aware was she of the difficulties he put upon himself in taking her to wife.
Marianne, who never failed to express the smallest of grievances, be they fact or fancy; Marianne, who took great pains to ensure that her own misfortunes were felt deeply by all those around her, no matter the injury to social decorum or inconvenience to others, now seemed determined not to let either a word or expression pass that might betray any of her complaints to her new husband.
Elinor was not sorry for this change, but neither was she used to it, and although she feared she pestered Marianne with her frequency of questioning, her sister gave no indication of being annoyed by the constant attention, and so it continued.
It was near nightfall when the coach pulled up to the drive, and Marianne was startled awake by the sudden ceasing of the clomping hooves and motion of the carriage as she had managed to doze for some fitful hours during the final stretch of their journey. Her short slumber made her no less eager to be shown to her room, and she was exceedingly grateful to the Colonel for making haste in helping her to alight from the coach.
A line of servants was there to greet them before the doors, and Marianne made a great effort to appear engaged during her introduction as the new mistress of Delaford—an effort which exhausted her thoroughly. No sooner had they crossed the threshold than her guise gave way and her fatigue made her sway on her feet. She would have stumbled into a heap on the foyer if it wasn't for her husband's ready arm to catch and steady her.
She had recovered her balance almost at once, and apologised for her clumsiness with an unaffected sincerity that Elinor thought suited this new Marianne very well.
Colonel Brandon dismissed her apology as one might dismiss a rambunctious puppy that collides with a stationary leg as he expertly gave directions to several servants to busy themselves with different tasks, including one to show Miss Dashwood to her room.
Elinor was about to protest that she should see to Marianne before retiring, but with a sudden realisation that Marianne was not her responsibility any longer, nor need she fear that the utmost might not be done for her with Colonel Brandon as her champion, she had nothing more to do but follow the servant up to her room. She would leave for Barton Cottage just as soon as she was certain Marianne had no more need of her. Secretly, she hoped Marianne might ask her to stay a while yet, so that she might see her settled and comfortable as mistress here, but if the invitation was not given directly, Elinor would not seek one out.
Marianne was so tired that she hardly acknowledged her whereabouts until the Colonel had helped her to a chaise lounge in a grand and elegant bedroom. She thought it almost too fine for a lady's chamber and was about to say so, when catching her blunder she asked instead, "Are these your rooms? They are very fine."
The Colonel offered her one of his slight smiles at her approval. "I thought it prudent for the present to at least appear to be sharing a chamber. Your rooms will be fitted out to your liking on the morrow, but for tonight..." Here he left the thought unfinished. "My staff is loyal and not prone to gossip, yet I would leave no room for suspicion when the time comes for your condition to be made known."
"Ah, that is... very... I had not thought..." she sighed at her own inability to think of anything beyond how dearly she wished to sleep. She had not even considered the possibility of Colonel Brandon insisting upon his husbandly rights. They had begun their travels directly following their marriage, and he had behaved no differently to her than he always had, albeit with less hesitance in the arm outstretched, or a steadier gaze than a mere acquaintance might be warranted to. The fact that such a significant part of the marriage covenant had not occurred to her as something that might pass between her and the Colonel both unsettled and frustrated her. Colonel Brandon was not so very old as to repel all notion of intimacy, but neither was she prepared to share such intimacies so soon after the way in which Willoughby had used her. Still, she could not be so ungracious as to deny him outright if he insisted upon their sharing a marriage bed.
"You should sleep," he said with some concern over her darkened features, instantly putting to rest any likelihood of acting upon her anxieties. "I will send Hannah in to help you prepare for bed."
His hand was on the door when Marianne stayed him with a question that surprised them both.
"You will return?" Husbandly rights or no, she did not relish the thought of his being forced to sleep in less than acceptable quarters in order to accommodate her presence.
"Do not worry on my account. I am often away, and when I am not, I usually retire in the bedroom adjoining. It is on rare occasion that I take advantage of these quarters. You will not be depriving me of expected comforts."
"Then let this be one of those occasions," she proffered. "I am used to sharing a bed. With my sisters," she was hasty to amend. "And if we are to give the servants the proper impression that we are... fully married..." she was not willing to say more, exhaustion and politeness withholding further detail.
"Very well," he relented. "I will come by the adjoining chamber once you are made comfortable."
Marianne had long learned to do without the help of servants, but tired as she was she found it most agreeable for the buttons and hooks and laces of her attire to be undone by another.
Hannah was a tidy, middle-aged woman who had no scruples against seeing to her charge in complete silence, and by the time she had Marianne properly outfitted in her nightclothes and plait, and quit the room, Marianne was in such a state of drowsiness that if the Colonel did return to their shared chamber, she was entirely unaware of when he entered or when he rose again to depart.
The late hour in which she awoke, and the rumpled state of disarray that the sheets had been reduced to, made her blush to think of the impression such a sight would give. It was strange indeed to so unwittingly be aiding the deception that would be her saving, and she became determined to add what other details she might in order to leave no doubt in the minds of the servants that the Colonel and she were lawfully and entirely married.
It struck her then that she had bled that first encounter with Wiloughby, and she feared the absence of blood on the sheets might put her reputation as well as Colonel Brandon's at risk. She swept her gaze about the room for some object she might use to cut herself, but the room was furnished solely for sleeping and marital congress; there was no cabinet or desk that promised any implement by which her devices might be realised.
Finally, she spied the sharp edge of a gilded frame which was hanging low enough on the wall to produce the desired blood after she'd struck her arm deliberately against the corner. She staunched the wound with the sheets, most satisfied with her quick thinking, until she realised she had nothing with which to bind or cover her injury.
If she could but find her way to her own chamber, perhaps the hem of an old petticoat would do the trick and she could bind her arm and dress quickly before the maid could recognise the deception. However, she did not know which door led to her room. So fatigued was she the night before that she hardly remembered which door she and the Colonel had entered by, and she could not risk coming upon a servant in the wrong chamber while stripped to her shift and holding a bleeding arm.
It was in this delicate moment of Marianne's indecision that one of the three bedroom doors was opened and the housekeeper came in with the tea tray.
Author's Notes: Saved by the tea tray! Or perhaps not. This may be a mortifying situation for Marianne to find herself in, but at least there is tea! I really think I must be English at heart. So long as there is proper tea and cream, I can be content. :)