Chapter Nine
The weight of Elinor's disappointment in love was considerably lessened by her sister's marital happiness, as was her removal from the company of Lucy Steele and her odious badgering, though her disappointment was not so forgotten that she was able to be perfectly content all her waking hours. She had a number of pursuits to keep her occupied however, as her correspondence had extended beyond her mother's to include Mrs. Jennings, and through no will of her own, that very Lucy Steele whom she had been so fortunate as to part ways with. The sudden marriage of the Colonel and Marianne had caused quite the stir amongst the ladies in Mrs. Jennings' company, and the news had circulated in London and without with fascinating rapidity.
Elinor took care in returning Mrs. Jennings' spirited congratulations—which was not without some self-congratulatory sentiments for promoting the match herself—with a letter of thanks in regard to her generosity in thinking of the sisters and her hospitality in housing them during their brief stay in London.
Lucy's letter was not half so agreeable in either the reading of or the responding to. Her platitudes of friendship were no more sincere than her well-wishes for Marianne. She even alluded to the fact that marriages formed in such haste were generally to hide some scandal or other, through which tones Elinor could only infer that she was jealous over Marianne's immediate securing of a husband while Lucy was still enduring a secret engagement. Of that, Lucy wrote at length; the contents of her letter predominately taken over by how often 'Mr. F.' wrote to her, and how delightful she found Mrs. Ferrars—who though she considered of a very severe countenance and disposition, was surely the kindest of ladies at heart—and she had every hope of securing the family's approval of the match in just a week longer of such affable fellowship, reminding Elinor to dispose of her letter just as soon as it was read, lest the contents be discovered by anyone else, for she trusted no one half so well as her dear Miss Dashwood. Indeed, Miss Dashwood was quite her favourite, and she made certain she was aware of it by peppering her letter with addresses to her, using her title, "my dear Miss Dashwood" as often as was possible on two full sheets of paper.
It pained Elinor to reply to such a missive in the first place, but obligated by courtesy, she managed to form a satisfactory number of lines that were neither unkind, nor untruthful. She answered Lucy's foolish exaggerations with sensible commentary, and her ignorant suppositions with verified facts, but wrote nothing that would give indication of how thoroughly bruised she was by maintaining such a correspondence. Even her warning that Mrs. Ferrars's acceptance of Lucy might well be attributed to the fact that she was in complete ignorance of Lucy's relation to her son was composed with no malice whatsoever.
Besides letter writing, Elinor had her mother and youngest sister to entertain as well. They required very little in the way of diversions, as Margaret was as captivated by Colonel Brandon's library as Marianne had been, albeit her enjoyment being derived from a very different sort of book collection, and Mrs. Dashwood was content to take her needlework to any cheerful spot in the great house and spend her days in a leisurely way—save for her worrying over Elinor's chance at matrimony, now that Marianne was settled so well.
Thankfully, Elinor could persuade her out of such topics with very little effort if she only turned the conversation to her favourite daughter.
"Dear Marianne!" Mrs. Dashwood would exclaim, sufficiently distracted, a bright smile captivating her features as if she was even now witnessing the union between her daughter and Colonel Brandon before her very eyes. "Do they not make a handsome couple, Elinor? He is so stately, and she is so beautiful. I was disappointed at first that they married so quickly, and without first receiving my consent. Of course the Colonel is an honourable man, and how could I ever have denied them?—but could you not have persuaded her to postpone the wedding until she might have had my blessing?" To Elinor's relief, her mother did not truly expect an answer and so continued without pause. "Well, I've had my apology from Colonel Brandon, and there was nothing amiss in it, so I am not at all unhappy how things came about. I suppose she was eager to be over the disappointment with Willoughby, my poor girl. In truth, I can understand her haste to have her name cease to be coupled with his. There was always something, you remember, in Willoughby's eyes I did not like." Elinor only smiled to herself knowingly at that, but Mrs. Dashwood did not pause in either her speech or her sewing, carrying on her conversation as she pulled a new stitch through her work. "The Colonel may not be as romantic a husband as Marianne once dreamed, but he is every bit deserving of her. And she has grown so healthy and of such fine form since you left. Do not you think so?"
Elinor did think so, and what's more she was afraid that Marianne's "healthy" condition might begin to show in less concealable ways before much longer. It was therefore soon after that she made a bid for returning to Barton Cottage. She appealed for the sake of Marianne establishing herself more thoroughly as mistress of the house and perhaps to force her into closer relations with her husband if she did not have Elinor there to fall back on for company, though her greater motive was to give Mrs. Dashwood and Margaret reason to quit the house before Marianne was grown round with child and her gowns would not be made to hide it. Mrs. Dashwood agreed under the persuasive sentiment that they must not intrude on the Colonel's good will any longer, and preparations for departure were begun.
Before arrangements could be fully formed for their removal, a letter arrived again, bearing cruel tidings for Elinor by the hand of that social informant Mrs. Jennings. The engagement that she had been burdened with the knowledge of was now out for all the world to know, or rather, all the family, friends, and acquaintances of the Dashwoods, Steeles, and Ferrarses combined, which might as well contain the whole of the British Commonwealth. The elder Miss Steele had let a careless comment slip about their previous acquaintance with Edward Ferrars, and with one or two interrogative measures from Fanny and Mrs. Dashwood, she had related the whole of the story to them both. The end result, after the initial shock, revulsion, and horror, had been for Mrs. Ferrars to throw both the Miss Steeles out of the house, and disinherit Edward upon his refusal to break his promise. She irrevocably settled the entire inheritance on Mr. Robert Ferrars and gave Lucy such a scolding before sending her away as to bring her to hysteria. There were not more particulars, for Mrs. Jennings had not waited for the outcome in order to write a more succinct and accurate letter, but had rather chosen to rely on sensation to convey her message. There were also a few hasty lines expressing her embarrassment in once teasing Elinor about that 'Mr. F,' and she was very shocked and sorry indeed, but she had never expected such a turn-about, and after this, nothing should surprise her again.
Elinor thought she had best tell Marianne before she heard word of it from another. Though it was not very likely word would reach her soon as news from the outside world was predominately conveyed to her through Elinor's letter writing and the Colonel's conversations, it did not seem fair to keep her in the dark while the whole of the ton were speaking of it and such near relations were involved.
Marianne was utterly confounded and at first did not believe it, supposing Mrs. Jennings had mistaken Edward for his brother Robert or some such folly.
"I'm afraid it is all perfectly true," Elinor said with a great deal more composure than she felt. They sat together in Elinor's room; a cheerful, sunny place with windows facing east, which afforded a great deal of light in the mornings by which she did her letter writing. Today, however, there seemed a dark pallor over the room, and it was not just from the gloomy weather. "Lucy told me in no uncertain terms that she has been engaged to Edward Ferrars these past four years—five, as it is now. I could be no more certain unless Edward himself had told me."
"All this time I have been making you a couple in my mind!" Marianne cried indignantly. "Why did you not tell me? And for how long have you known this?" she asked a little crossly.
"These four months I have known the whole of their history, forced upon me by Lucy when we had known her no more than a week," Elinor admitted, still bravely composed, though tears had begun to tease at her eyes and she attempted to hide them by fixing her gaze away from Marianne's searching looks. "It was told to me in the strictest of confidences and I could not break my word. And what might you have done with such information? Would it have made any difference?"
"I may not have come to London," Marianne frowned, troubled greatly by the duration of her ignorance.
"And then we would have been miles away from the Colonel, and you would have had no salvation from your fate. No, Marianne. It is good we came, if only for that reason." She tried to console her sister with a sad, unconvincing smile. "Do not be cross with me for concealing it, Marianne. I was no more happy in keeping such a secret as you can be to find it out."
At this petition, Marianne took Elinor's hand in both of hers and held it to her cheek. "Poor, unhappy Elinor. I am not cross with you. What you must have been suffering all this while. How could you bear it?" she wondered. "How could you ever remain silent through all the intolerable jests of Mrs. Jennings?"
"Her remarks I well could have borne, were it not for the constant pestering of Lucy Steele in my ear of how deep an affection she and Edward feel for one another. Oh, Marianne," she said sorrowfully, emotions growing tender over her sister's tearful concern, "I am glad that you know now, and I need not hide my disappointment to you at least."
"But he does not love her, Elinor! How could he possibly? Tell me if you saw anything in Lucy's character or conversation to support such a notion, and I shall try to believe it. But she seems to me such a ridiculous, insufferable ninny with no sense of feeling whatever! And even if she were not so bad as I perceive her, I know he loves you," she insisted. "He cannot marry her!"
"Would you have him prove himself dishonourable in casting her off as Willoughby has done to you?"
"Our situations are hardly the same, Elinor," Marianne said with a biting tone. "And I would not have him act against his conscience, but neither would I have him marry where he does not love! He does not love her!" she repeated.
"Perhaps," Elinor began in Edward's defence, "he does harbour some... regret over the engagement, but it was a promise made long before he met me and he has honoured it admirably. He has made me no overtures, offered me no more than friendship, and he did try to tell me of Lucy on several occasions, though I believe the right words escaped him. I do believe he will be happy in the knowledge that he did his duty and kept his word. After all," she sighed in resignation, "After all that is bewitching about the idea of one's happiness depending entirely on one person, it is not always possible, we must accept. Edward will marry Lucy, and I shall go home with Mama."
"Always resignation and acceptance," Marianne spoke tearfully. "Always honour, and prudence, and duty."
"Elinor," she said, cupping her cheeks in a nearly motherly fashion, "Does your heart not tell you otherwise? Or perhaps you did not love him so very much after all." This last was expressed with a gentle sigh, as if it were a great comfort to think it was so.
At this, Elinor started back as if struck with a physical blow and she rose from her seat beside Marianne. "What do you know of my heart? For weeks, I have had this pressing on my heart and mind without being at liberty to speak of it to a single creature while you were suffering all the while over Willoughby." She pressed a hand to her heart in suppressed emotion, her voice wavering as she went on. "I have had to remain cheerful, and careful, unable to speak a word of my own disappointment while your pain was foremost, even recognised by Mrs. Jennings and the very person whose prior claims ruined all my hope." Her breath caught as she took a chair away from Marianne to steady herself. "I have endured Lucy's exultation again and again whilst knowing myself to be divided from Edward forever. Believe me, Marianne, had I not been bound to silence I could have produced enough evidence of a broken heart for even you to believe how unhappy I have been."
"Oh, Elinor!" Marianne began to weep openly, and this caused Elinor reason to compose herself once more. She removed from her solitary chair to embrace Marianne in acceptance of her broken apology. "I have been so mistaken in others," she wept. "I did not understand the Colonel's sincerity, and I have not understood your heart. I have been wretchedly selfish, and I will learn to do better! But, Elinor," she said, drying her eyes the better to face her sister, "I cannot agree with you entirely in defending Edward. Perhaps he is acting honourably from the position of strict moral duty, but it is hardly honourable to his heart. No," she shook her head decidedly. "I will always believe that Edward loved you, that he still loves you! For how could he not?!"
Touched as she was by Marianne's loving outbursts, Elinor was weary of the topic and wished to escape a conversation that could do no more good than harm if it were to continue. "Let's speak no more of it, dearest," she requested, a weary breath being the greatest sign of her inner turmoil, now that her tears were at an end.
Marianne agreed, and the remainder of their interlude consisted of making any evidence of their tearful exchange disappear and conversing on matters that could only produce cheerfulness. But it was as early as the same evening that Elinor would be made to hear of it again, even with their mother kept in the dark, so that she would have no opportunity to cast further shadows of gloom upon their already downcast moods.
It was not Mrs. Dashwood, but Colonel Brandon who gave opportunity for the subject, and in a way that brought Elinor much undeserved distress, though of course he could not know how his desire to be useful increased her suffering.
They were assembled in the drawing room; the three of them spending a cosy evening in conversation as was now their usual way. Mrs. Dashwood had retired early with Margaret and Elinor might have done the same, but she wished to take advantage of the few nights remaining at Delaford by being near Marianne. Molly's rambunctious antics were kept at bay by the Colonel's careful watch, but he was not as strict with her as usual, nor did he take such a passive role in the conversation.
Upon a lull in one of Marianne's impassioned speeches regarding a lesser known poet, he offered his acquired information. "Ah. I have it through Sir John Middleton that your friend, Edward Ferrars is to be married to Miss Lucy Steele."
Marianne glanced at Elinor and opened her mouth with an indignant retort on her lips, but a fierce look of warning from Elinor stopped her.
"It is true," Elinor answered. "I have had the same information from Mrs. Jennings who gave me a thorough account of the matter."
Colonel Brandon accepted this confirmation with a tight frown. "I think it is reprehensible how the family has reacted." At this, Marianne looked up at him in surprise. "I know all too well the cruelties of a family's exclusion of a young couple desirous of marriage." His eyes sought Marianne's for the briefest of moments, and she determined to ask him for particulars of his own history, as it was evident he spoke from personal experience.
"I have thought of something that may help them, though," Colonel Brandon continued. "I am told he is seeking a profession in the clergy. The living at Delaford is recently made vacant and I thought to offer it to him."
"Colonel," Elinor said quickly, disallowing Marianne from bursting out in protestation, "That is exceedingly generous of you."
"It is a small parsonage in need of some repairs, but it is comfortable, I think, and it would allow them to marry despite the unkindness of his nearest relations. Would you accompany me tomorrow in looking over the property and pointing out what improvements might be necessary for them? As Mr. Ferrars's friend and an acquaintance of Miss Lucy Steele, I would desire your counsel in manner of the proceedings."
"I... Colonel, you give me more credit than I think is due. Should you not rather rely on your own judgement in what is profitable for your estate?"
"I think not. I have every confidence that you will be able to direct those feminine alterations which my eyes may dismiss." He turned his attention to Marianne. "If you are feeling up to a little walking, I will have the carriage bring you to the parish and we will all survey the property together."
Marianne was undergoing such a conflict of emotions that it was impossible for her to form a reply. Her gaze darted from Elinor to the Colonel and back to Elinor. She did not want to hurt the Colonel in appearing reluctant, but she was painfully aware of all she had discovered of Elinor's sentiments during their morning conversation, and wanted more than anything to relieve some of her burden.
Finally, she was able to provide a diplomatic answer, though it took some effort. "I am feeling up to anything that will help Elinor. If that means accompanying you to the parish, then I shall."
Elinor rewarded her with a thankful smile, and though Marianne knew she was not really happy, nor could she be in such circumstances, it was a genuine smile that went straight to her sister's heart.
Author's Notes:
I'm so, so, so sorry! At odd times all through the beginning of the week, I'd get in a panic and say, "IS IT WEDNESDAY!? I NEED TO UPDATE! IS TODAY...!? Oh. It's not Wednesday. I'm good." and then the only day I didn't have a panic attack over updating, was... you guessed it... Wednesday. :P Packing to move all my stuff is hard, you guys. Like, so hard that I'm not being nice and flowery in my author's notes because everything is sore, and I've used up way too much bubble wrap and packaging tape, and my hands and nails look like crap, and I need ice cream, but I'm not sure that we have any. *pouts and sniffles* Oh, but I'd still love to hear your thoughts on the chapters! :) And remember, I've published this book on Amazon, so if you really love it, you can always buy yourself a copy there. If I make enough off my books, maybe I can afford to hire professional movers next time and I won't be ice creamless. *cheesy grin*