Her Eyes Opened: Chapter 13
For three days Marianne had been floating in the air. Three days ago this afternoon Brandon had kissed her and they had declared in no uncertain terms that what they tentatively set out to probe by formal courting was still an undeniable fact: she loved him and he loved her. The confirmation and statement of the shared feelings alone would have been enough to make Marianne dizzy, but then there was the kiss. How could simple touch between two people be filled with so much emotion and feeling? Yes, a hug and cuddle from Elinor or Mother on a bad day brought comfort, or holding someone's hand when you weren't feeling too sure of yourself brought you a little confidence, but that kiss: what a thrill!
Unbeknownst to Marianne, it was also the same three days that had witnessed a nearly constantly smiling Colonel Brandon at Delaford. He did his best to behave as though everything was just normal, but his insides insisted on making a show of what was going on in his heart: a great urge to shout his happiness to the world. He had been uncertain, yes, but since that talk at the picnic – never mind that overwhelming kiss – he felt he could trust her to know her mind. And what about that kiss? Searing hot, he could still feel her lips on his, her hands on him, the warmth of her body against his. Marriage could not come soon enough for him now, he had decided. There would be propriety in how long an engagement was, but if at the end of it he would be allowed to bring his sweet Marianne home to Delaford for good he could not ask God for more.
That same evening Brandon was already preparing to retire for the night when the he and his staff heard a single rider approach the house. It was already dark except for a dim moonlight, and Brandon certainly was not expecting anyone. Brandon went to meet the traveller at the entrance himself. As the horse came closer Brandon could see the man's uniform: the cavalry. In a short moment he could see enough detail to recognize the uniform to come from his own regiment. This had to be serious: they would never send a messenger into the night like this if it was simply a question of a special reception where the reserve officers were wanted sometimes.
"Colonel Brandon?" the young officer asked as he approached the man holding a lantern.
"Yes, I am," Brandon replied and waited for the younger man to explain himself.
"Lieutenant Williams, sir, I've been sent to bring deliver your orders." The man was still slightly out of breath from his fast ride, but was clearly keen to fulfil his duty promptly and with clarity. He reached for the order papers in his messenger bag he was carrying and passed them on to Brandon.
"Orders? But I've been made a reserve an eternity ago." Brandon quizzed under breath. This did not promise anything good.
"You better come in Lieutenant, you should have something to eat and drink, you must have been riding all day." Good or not, Brandon was not one to shoot the messenger. He guided the Lieutenant to the front parlour and rang the bell as he started to open the papers.
Brandon had to read through the orders twice before the facts sunk in: it was worse than bad. It was catastrophic and he felt as though his entire world had been pulled apart. He could not even trust his legs suddenly and he had to sit down. His butler was already providing the young Lieutenant with tea and some bread and cheese.
"Do you know what these orders are?" Brandon eventually asked the younger man. Williams nodded.
"And they're quite adamant this cannot wait?"
Williams shook his head in confirmation. It was serious. He hadn't quite prepared himself to a situation where whoever was to receive that letter would look like they wanted to refuse the orders, but this man certainly did not look too pleased about them.
"Christ!" Brandon spat in a rare show of not controlling his demeanour. He started pacing in front of the fire. This would change everything. Absolutely everything.
"I'll need to make some arrangements." Brandon simply stated then and instructed his butler to find the Lieutenant somewhere to rest for a few hours and to have someone see to the horse. With no further words Brandon disappeared into his study and sat down at his desk. He had letters to write, and one of them was going to make his heart bleed. He would not leave without seeing her, but there would be no opportunity to say all that he wanted to say to her.
The first gloom of the day was barely visible when the men set off from Delaford and it was hardly possible to say that the morning was out by the time they had reached Barton Cottage. A bewildered Thomas opened the front door, still in his shirt sleeves having only pulled his trousers on when he'd heard the banging at the door.
"Colonel Brandon, sir, is something the matter?" Thomas greeted the familiar visitor and guided the men in.
"I'm so sorry I had to come at this ungodly hour…" Brandon started, but paused as he saw Mrs Dashwood enter the front room in her morning gown, still wearing her night attire.
"Mrs Dashwood, please forgive this early intrusion," Brandon repeated his apology.
"My dear Brandon, has something happened? Why are you in your uniform?" Mrs Dashwood was getting somewhat alarmed, looking at the Colonel and his companion.
"I'm afraid something has happened and if I may, I'd like to talk to Miss Marianne. Please." Brandon's appeal may have looked calm and formal to most, but in this house he was known better than that: his appeal was full of urgency and concern.
"I'm sorry, I should have introduced… This is Lieutenant Williams – ah, Marianne…"
Marianne and Margaret had heard the commotion and as soon as they had managed the least possible to make themselves decent, they'd headed downstairs.
"Colonel Brandon, what is it?" Marianne asked, picking up on the general sense of alarm in the house.
"Please, why don't you go have a word in the garden, and we'll have a cup of tea here meanwhile?" Mrs Dashwood offered. The situation was too serious to worry about appearances. Colonel Brandon would never have come like this without a serious reason. Brandon nodded at Mrs Dashwood, then gestured for Marianne to go outside before him.
"Colonel, you're frightening me. Why are you in your uniform?"
"Marianne… Oh dear God I don't know to say what I need to say…" Brandon started. Marianne stepped closer to him, facing him, seeking his eyes and wanting him to go on.
"'I'm afraid I've just been delivered orders to join my regiment for some time."
"What?" Marianne couldn't quite believe it. Of course Brandon wasn't that old yet, but it was understood he was in the reserves and even as such among the last ones to be called should the need for reserves arise.
"I know. And that isn't the worst of it." Brandon continued:
"Contagious fever has broken out at the regiment just when they were supposed to ship out to Cadiz. The illness has taken a serious toll among the senior officers but it is imperative to send the troops over to support Wellington's campaign. They've called in as many reserves as possible, basically everyone they know to be in decent condition and we are having to take over until regular officers an be sent over to replace us."
Marianne had stopped breathing at the mention of shipping out to Cadiz. They were shipping her Brandon away from her!
"Oh no, no!" she moaned, tears already forming in her eyes. Brandon's heart was in pain as if being stabbed, he did not want to do this to her, not now. He did not want to do this to himself, either.
"I know, my dear Marianne, I know. I'm beginning to believe the fates simply will not grant me but a glimpse of happiness that could be but somehow I'll not be allowed to have." Brandon sighed.
"But surely you will then come back?" Marianne asked with desperation. Of course a trip like that would take time, but they weren't going to send the reserves to fight?
"I wish I knew." Brandon muttered, taking Marianne's hands in his.
"Marianne, my love. Last time we talked I told you, and I say it again: you are my life now and I love you more than I can tell you. My intention was that the next time I came to Barton Cottage it would be to propose to you. To ask if you would marry me…" what he was going to say next got stuck in his throat and choked him to silence.
"Christopher?" Marianne asked, his name slipping out as if a signal of how serious the situation was.
"I cannot possibly ask you to wait, Marianne. I cannot ask that of you." Brandon forced the words out and could not help the moisture forming in his eyes as he saw the shear pain in Marianne's eyes as his words sunk in.
"No, no – you cannot leave like this. What am I supposed to do? Keep my eyes open for other options? For someone else? There is only you, Christopher, I don't care whether you formally propose or not, I've already promised myself to you if you were to feel like having me and I will wait." Marianne gained back some of the fire in her temper: they were not to going to give up now, not after it had taken her stupid heart all this time to really understand what it was to love someone.
"I know you have to go, and I understand that it can take time and perhaps I'll not even hear from you. Will there be any chance to send letters, do you think? All the same, I am as good as yours Christopher Brandon, and you just going to have to come back and tell me in person if you no longer want me at the end of all this." Tears were running down her cheeks but she had such determination in her whole being it rubbed off on Brandon as well.
"In that case, my love, the moment I return my first stop will be Barton Cottage and I will propose to you then and let you see if I'm still in any condition to be accepted." Brandon's voice wasn't much more than an emotion filled whisper but through his tears he managed to form a smile. He had wanted to release her of all obligations to him, but now that she refused in such beautifully obstinate manner he felt relief an joy.
Time was running out, he needed to get under way but damn all modesty to hell he would not go without feeling his beautiful Marianne in his arms just once more. He pulled her to him, except it wasn't really much of a pull as she was already on half way there. The lips crashed on to one another's, stifled moans and fevered whispers declaring unchanging and absolute love were exchange between kisses by the lovers who held on to each other as for dear life. Before it became too much for Brandon to handle, he gently let her down again and gave her one more gentle and lingering kiss.
"Goodbye Marianne. I will try and write if there is any chance of getting letters through. I love you."
"Goodbye, Christopher. Please look after yourself and stay out of trouble. You are needed here – I love you so much." Marianne managed to say before she choked up as Brandon stepped away and then briskly marched back into the house, quickly wiping his eyes to the back of his hand.
She heard him bid goodbye to her mother and Margaret, apologizing for everything once more, then summoning his officer escort. Then silence for a moment before her mother and Margaret both rushed out into the garden. How was it even possible to crash down this low from the heights of happiness she had been floating in until this morning?