Chapter Ten
Marianne could not stay still over Colonel Brandon's offer of a living to Edward. She told Elinor as much in no uncertain terms, declaring the whole thing preposterous and insisting she would ask her husband to reconsider before the invitation could be drafted. Elinor begged that she say nothing to the Colonel regarding the truth of her affections lest he regret his decision, and ruin Edward's chances of a comfortable living with the woman he'd promised to marry.
Marianne still did not agree, nor did she bind herself to complete secrecy, though she did assure Elinor that she would hold her tongue for the duration of their viewing the property Edward and Lucy were to live in, should the Colonel's generosity come to fruition.
Though she remained true to her word in making no open remark against the future tenants of her husband's property, Marianne was hardly enthused and she was rather unhelpful in the overseeing of repairs and improvements. Everything was, "suitable enough for them," she was sure, and had especially sharp comments to make against the intended parishioner's wife, doubting her ability to appreciate any improvements whatever, considering the extent of her education. She did not realise that her sarcasm only pained Elinor more than a sullen silence would have, but she was unable to forebear such a turn of events with patience, and Elinor did not blame her too much for the way she showed her displeasure. For she knew it was for her sake and the sympathy Marianne felt for her unattainable love that drove her to such obvious unkindness, and though it was not the most gracious way of making her sentiments known, it was Marianne's way, and evidenced her deep affection for Elinor.
The Colonel was not without perception, and at the end of the evening, when he joined his wife in their shared chamber, he took opportunity of asking her if she was quite well. Marianne was still in a state of frenzied upset and had been moving about the room, rearranging all that she put her hands on, never finding a satisfactory position for either articles about the room or her own comfort in sitting. Her restlessness disallowed the Colonel to remove his robe and slip into bed unnoticed, and he was momentarily uncertain of how to proceed with this new development of a fully awake Marianne in nightgown and fast loosening braid, hurrying about the room with no conceivable purpose.
"I feared today's activities might have fatigued you, but you seem to be quite... energised," he wondered aloud in his confusion, not venturing any further than the corner of the room closest to his side of the great bed.
"No, I am not tired. I cannot be restful with such thoughts plaguing my mind as they are."
"Might you share with me what thoughts distress you so?"
Marianne set down a gilded trinket box, perhaps with a little more force than necessary, and heaved a deep sigh. "I am not supposed to tell, but it is very trying not to be able to explain to you the reason for my vexation, since you are the one unwittingly causing it."
"If you are unable to speak of it first, allow me to hazard a guess," he offered. "Are you displeased with my decision to offer Edward the parish here? Would you rather I consulted you, first?" he queried, barely missing the mark, "I had thought him a good friend of your family."
"Yes, Edward is a dear friend, and I think him worthy of every possible comfort in his future. That is why," she began vehemently, stopping short when her words threatened to betray Elinor. "But no, I am sorry. You musn't misunderstand. It is not that you offer such a thing that distresses me, or even that it is for Edward's sake. I think it the best and most generous of solutions, were it not for... for who he brings here as wife."
"Do you have some quarrel with Miss Lucy Steele?"
Marianne repeated her sigh, but with less fervour. "Only that it is her attachment to Edward which will trap him forever in a loveless marriage. I am well aware that Edward does his duty, but I am even more aware that he does not love her! True, he is of a tender-hearted and kindly nature, and will give every impression of being perfectly content with his small income and his ridiculous wife. But to love such a superior creature as he does and then be made to marry Lucy Steele for the sake of honour! Can the heart truly be content to perpetuate such insincerity, such lack of real passion? How is it to be borne?! Poor Edward!" she lamented. "Poor Eli..." she was about to say her sister's name, but remembered to hold her tongue and sank defeated on the bed rather than finish her exclamation.
Colonel Brandon was quiet for a moment. Marianne sat with her back to him and he could not ascertain her meaning by way of expression. Then his voice carried in a low, downcast manner from across the room, "Are those your own sentiments? Do you feel trapped in a loveless marriage, forced into it as you were for the sake of honour?"
"Oh!" she cried, twisting about to see the disappointed furrow in his brow. "I did not mean..."
Colonel Brandon attempted a sad smile of understanding. "I do not wish to further your distress. Perhaps you would be more comfortable if we slept in separate chambers from now on. There is no more danger of suspicion being cast upon your character."
He was turning to leave, but Marianne rose and rushed to his side with surprising agility despite her condition, grasping the sleeve of his robe before he could go.
"Colonel, please! I made no allusion to my own sentiments; I spoke only of Edward's plight! I assure you, I do not feel trapped or stifled by any means. You are all kindness, and sympathy, and I am not ignorant of how... how fond you are of me," she stammered, colouring slightly. "Do not take my words to heart, please. I am only grieved for my friend, as I know him to be in love with another."
Unconvinced, he went on, "You have said yourself that you cannot imagine a life of polite contentment to be either a fulfilling or happy one. You see me as very old and unsuitable a husband, I know, and I cannot in good faith argue with you on such matters, being that you know your own heart better than anyone."
"Perhaps I do not know my own heart so well after all," she countered, tightening her grip on the sleeve so that he might not turn away again. "I have been wrong in a great many things of late, not the least of which is all that I ever said against you as a suitor. I know... I know you have given me so much, and though it is abominably selfish, I would ask one more favour of you, Colonel. Do not give up hope. My heart is yet sore and bruised, and I struggle to reconcile my feelings now with what they were before our marriage, but I am not as stupid as I once was." She let her hand fall from its insistent grasp, dropping into his and giving it a gentle squeeze. "I do not think you are very old, nor unsuitable," she assured him with a real smile. Then, daring to rise on her toes, she brushed a gentle kiss upon his cheek to confirm the truth of her words. "Will you forgive me, Colonel, and come to bed? Your presence here does not distress me in the least."
Considering the matter settled by the fact that he no longer attempted to make his exit from the room, Marianne prepared to return to her place on the bed, but Colonel Brandon could not let her go without giving her an answer in like kind by raising her hand to his lips.
As they settled into bed, both far too conscious of what had just passed between them to make conversation, Marianne felt the heat rise to her face as she divested her robe, though she had already slept many nights beside the Colonel in naught but her nightgown. It was so very different, climbing into bed together and after having kissed, though their lips had never met. It suddenly seemed a very intimate thing they were doing, and she wondered that it would cause such palpitations of the heart and flushed cheeks when there was surely nothing shameful in sharing a bed with her husband.
After laying in utter silence for what seemed an eternity, Marianne could not help but ask rather abruptly, "Can you not rescind your offer?" She turned onto her side in order to make her request while looking the Colonel in the eye.
"If you wish it, I will," he said, slightly perturbed by her near proximity and pleading demeanour. "Though I feel it may cause the woman he loves even more pain to know both Mr. Ferrars and his new wife will suffer for it."
Marianne nodded, causing her braid to fall against her shoulder that was now free of any material since her robe had been removed and her shift had fallen enticingly past any modest situation. Colonel Brandon attempted to focus on her words rather than his desire to brush his fingers against the softness of her shoulder upon the excuse of moving her braid.
"I know it is wrong," she said sleepily, stifling a yawn. "I only wish something could be done for poor, dear Elinor."
The Colonel made no comment on her revelation that Elinor was indeed the woman Edward truly loved, and in Marianne's tiredness, she did not seem to consider that what she'd given away was of any great significance.
"She does love him terribly," she murmured, no longer meeting the Colonel's gaze. "Even if she is too prudent to let it show."
"I think I may know something of your sister's sentiments," he answered quietly and with profound meaning, but Marianne had already succumbed to sleep.
She rose the next morning to discover herself bereft of the Colonel's presence yet again. There was nothing unusual in it to cause alarm, yet something felt amiss in the quietness of the room, and the emptiness she felt from it. Her anxiety was confirmed by way of a letter she found on her dressing table; directed to her and in the Colonel's neat hand.
My Dearest Marianne,
You must forgive me for taking action once more without consulting you, but I could not be made aware of the violent crime Willoughby is guilty of without requiring satisfaction, and have challenged Mr. Willoughby to a duel. He has accepted my terms, and we meet in but a few hours of my penning this letter.
My true desire is to utterly dispense with him and rid the world of such a scoundrel, for were it possible I would do so with a clear conscience, as it is no secret how he despises his new wife, and she him. I would not, therefore, be leaving her without estate or income, and rather than depriving her of a protector, I should be relieving her of entrapment in one of those loveless marriages you so despise. The only regret I may have is if such a deed would cause you any heartache, but in light of your admission to me last night in the dissimilarity of situations, I believe I can safely trust that you would not think too harshly of my dismissal of the rogue.
It was not for his sake, however, that I did not make the terms to end with mortal blows, but the concern of what might come of you and your sister were I to be killed, instead. There is some small chance one of us may die, if the wounds inflicted are serious enough, but it is not my intent to leave you without a protector in this world, and it is not only that, but the knowledge that I am a superior swordsman that makes me eager rather than fearful to cross swords with Willoughby this morning.
If, by some sorry accident, I do succumb to death, you must allow me now to convey the great honour I have found in being your husband, short a time as it has been, and the gratitude I owe you for having made my last days on earth, if these are to be so, the most rewarding I have spent. Perhaps you are not aware how unchanged my affection for you has been since first meeting you at Barton Cottage. It has not only remained steadfast, but deepened as time has gone on, and that vengeful part of me is glad for the chance to repay Willoughby some of what I have suffered whilst apart from you. You are forever thanking me for doing you the great service of marrying you, yet I think it a disservice to me in misinterpreting my intentions. I had resolved to be as your sister has been in the face of unattainable love; patiently bearing suppressed affection without complaint or breaking of trust, but I find it more and more impossible to hide from you the full depth of my affections.
I am captivated by your very smile. I thrill over your very presence. You asked me not to relinquish all hope of your ever returning my love, and I cling to those words even as I prepare to meet the base creature who threatened to take from you all chance of future happiness.
I have written to Mr. Edward Ferrars as well, regarding the living I mean to offer him at Delaford in terms only as tempting as I feel my Christian duty, bearing the dilemma of your sister's heart in mind. I leave my unsent letter to him here for your approval. If all is well with my selection of phrasing, my seal is in the library, and you may direct and send it in my name.
I remain yours devotedly,
Col Brandon
This epistle was read once over in haste, then again at length, and once more when Marianne threatened to be overcome by emotions that rendered the words incomprehensible. When the full meaning of the letter was grasped, Marianne ran to her sister's room and burst through the door without precedent. "Oh, Elinor!' she cried, tears streaming down her cheek, and the letter crunching between her tightened fist. She was then astonished into silence by the sight of Elinor fully dressed and folding her gowns into a trunk.
"Oh! I had forgot you are leaving today!"
"Just as soon as we can adequately prepare. I think it best to be established again at Barton long before Edward and Lucy arrive. I have no wish for them to imagine I left on their account. But what is the matter, dearest? Who is that letter from? Is it not too early for the post?"
"It is from Colonel Brandon," Marianne said languidly.
"What on earth has happened? You look rather pale. Should you like to sit down?"
"Nothing!" she assured her, drying her eyes quickly. She did not tell Elinor of the Colonel's duel. She did not want to worry her into staying at Delaford longer after she had undergone such a day of heartache only the day previous. "No, I am fine. It is only... he had some business early this morning, and left me this to send to Edward," she said, extending the folded missive towards Elinor. "He says I am to direct it if it meets with my approval. Shall I send it?"
Elinor did not take it, but pushed the hand back towards her sister. "Of course you should send it, dearest. You know I think it the only course there is."
"Very well," Marianne murmured.
"Are you certain you are quite alright?" Elinor persisted.
"Yes, I am well." She collected herself with a cheerful tone and smile she did not feel. "The letter only startled me."
"It seems a very long letter only to ask your approval regarding Edward's living."
"It... it is a love letter, as well." Marianne blushed furiously.
"I see," Elinor said with a knowing smile, and Marianne was even more convinced not to speak a word of her husband's current whereabouts at the moment, or the way her heart raced near to bursting at the thought of him acquiring some mortal wound by Willoughby's hand. She feared not only worrying Elinor, but being unable to bear it should she be made to speak the words aloud.
"Shall I help you pack?" she asked without enthusiasm.
"If you like. Though you are not the most methodical and I may need to start all over again after you've been at it," Elinor teased.
Marianne forced a laugh. "Then I will leave you to it and see if Margaret would like my help. She is not so fastidious about her trunks."
Author's Note of Shame: Far too long between updates, I readily admit! But I have some bloody good excuses this time!
1. Wedding. 2. Korean honeymoon. 3. Moving out of state, into our new apartment. 4. Pregnancy. 5. 24/7 "morning" sickness.
I probably could have put the last two and felt excused enough, but now you know all the things I've been up to between my last update and this one. I have to say, all this baby sickness is making me relate to Marianne a whole lot more, and I'm surprised by how accurate I was in writing her early symptoms before ever having gone through them myself! So that's the bright side of all this. I have a better writer's perspective. :P