Her Eyes Opened, Chapter 14
As reluctant as he was to leave at all, Brandon could not really get away from Barton Cottage fast enough: every second he was near Marianne made him want to defy his orders and not care if he was locked up for insubordination. So far his reason was still winning his internal battle, though, as he understood perfectly well that the consequences of insubordination were likely to be much worse than spending a few months away from Marianne. The risks involved in having to join battle and even just the journey there were something he knew intimately, but there should be a decent chance of making it back in one piece eventually. He was not going to cut is nose to spite his face.
In his inner turmoil he hadn't handed his letter to Marianne, but remembered it on his way out and gave it to Mrs Dashwood to hand over later. Half his night had been spent on letters to ensure his estate would be cared for and things would run as they should while he was away. The letters also covered the eventuality that the gods of war finally caught up with him and made him pay all that he had managed to escape form on his earlier campaigns in India. He had escaped with his life, then. His injury should have finished him and the state he had been mentally at the time had hardly helped his recovery yet somehow he was still alive. How many chances did one man get?
As soon as the men's figures had disappeared from the cottage's path, Mrs Dashwood and Margaret rushed out into the garden. The air was cool, but tearful Marianne couldn't care less.
"Oh Marianne, what was that? That young officer explained the regiment were summoning all capable reserves and shipping them somewhere with the troops!" Mrs Dashwood had not quite been able to take in all the details, having so clearly seen what state the Colonel had been in.
"He's gone…" Marianne sobbed. Her mother rushed over to embrace her and Marianne's sadness was so tangible even young Margaret felt the loss and joined in the embrace.
"He's gone and doesn't know when he'll be back. And there could be fighting… What if something happens to him?" Marianne was getting very distraught now.
Mrs Dashwood held her tight a few more moments, then decided that in lack of stronger medicines, tea would have to do.
"Let's go in dear, we mustn't catch our death out here," Mrs Dashwood spoke calmly and softly into Marianne's ear. Margaret had already begun to suspect it and this was further proof to her theory that somewhere underneath that highly emotional and fussy exterior her mother had carried for so long was a woman with great resources and even presence of mind. Now that Elinor was not with them here anymore to look after them, her mother had had to come to a little. Now, here she was, being the collected one, sheltering her girls.
Mrs Dashwood did not hand Marianne Brandon's letter until the girl had sat down and taken a few sips from her tea. She was beginning to breathe more calmly now and was wiping away her tears. The determination she had summoned earlier with Brandon, the determination to see this through, was returning.
"He left you a letter, dear," Mrs Dashwood passed the envelope to Marianne. Marianne took the letter with a nod, but did not open it. She wasn't sure if she was able to just yet.
"I'll go upstairs to read it, if that's alright mother," Marianne then said. Her mother simply nodded. Margaret sighed. She, naturally, wanted to know what was in the letter, but assumed all would be told later. Her mother would want to know as well. The three continued to have their tea in silence, Mrs Dashwood reaching over the table every now and then to stroke Marianne's hand.
Some time later, upstairs after both Marianne and Margaret had got dressed, Margaret had left her sister on her own and gone downstairs in hopes of actual breakfast. It was obvious to her that neither her mother nor Marianne would be having any, but she was hungry all the same. Marianne took a deep breath and opened the envelope.
My dearest Marianne,
To have to write this letter now pains me more than I can say. I should be on my way to Dover where my regiment waits for boarding and we will be shipped to Cadiz. What will happen there, I do not know beyond organizing the regiment and troops so that they will be ready to join Wellington's campaign fighting fit. Literally. I've understood that troops are rotated through Cadiz so that those who have been on the battlefield can come and have some rest from time to time. This being the case, I cannot say how long our troops have there before we are to replace someone. It is also impossible to guess how long it will take for any of the regular, active, officers to regain their health enough to make the journey across and replace us reserve officers.
I do not wish to sound fatalistic, but I have great concerns regarding this exercise: I (and I doubt the rest of the reserves are in the same position) do not know the regiment anymore as well as I should, having been away from active duty for so long. I haven't been there to drill them or to train them at the manoeuvres – I only know a handful of the younger officers I'm expected to lead. That, the climate, the decease that has been ransacking the regiment, never mind battle itself they all fill me with uncertainty and, I must admit, fear. So, you see, my dearest Marianne, I cannot ask you to be my bride yet. I cannot ask you to be tied to me in any formal way. I have a feeling now, that you'll have something to say about that when I talk to you about this in the morning. Gods, I hope I do get a chance to see you and talk to you in the morning! Captain Williams there was not best pleased when I informed him that we'd be making a detour, but too bad. I will not leave without at least trying to see you once more, my love.
How I wish I could promise to be back soon and that everything will be alright, but I have been to enough war and conflict to know no one's safe. I have had my narrow escape in India already and I cannot help but assume that may have been my share of good fortune. That and getting to know you, Marianne. The pessimist in me is already voicing a very loud "should have known" since Williams delivered the orders: was the dream of a lifetime with you too much for the fates? Was it to be just that, a dream? My heart bleeds with the prospect of not returning to you, yet I'm trying to summon my backbone and tell myself – and you – that it might be all fine in the end. That perhaps we'll simply get to Cadiz, settle and the next ship over will bring the active officers and takes us reserves back to England.
Meanwhile, this may be the only letter I can produce. I will see what chance there is to send mail over from Cadiz to England, but what ever it is, it will not be very quick. Similarly, I don't expect any letters from you, as it will be next to impossible to have them delivered to where I will be. I haven't asked you for a keepsake so far and will not ask for one when (I hope) I see you in a few hours time. I'm not a sentimental man for such things. That does not mean that I won't be carrying you with me in my heart the entire time: memory of your lips on mine, of your embrace, your smile and laugh, I will not forget one moment I have spent with you, my dear Marianne.
On the practical side, you should know that I have also written letters to your sister Elinor and Sir John and asked them to keep an eye on Delaford. My staff are vary capable and will run the house perfectly well while I am away, but I still would like someone to go see the place from time to time. I would also like it if you and Margaret would carry on your riding lessons. Perhaps your sister Elinor can take you there from time to time? It would give me great comfort to know that you are at Delaford.
I have also written to Mr Johnson, my solicitor, and instructed him on how to deal with my assets should the worst happen. I have instructed him to make sure you and your family are cared for with an annuity and there is no condition of marriage. Should I not return from here I want both you and Margaret to have every chance of building lives for yourselves. An annuity should overcome some of the usual obstacles, as much as I disapprove of this business side of marriages. Mr Johnson has also been instructed to look after Eliza Williams and money will be put aside for the child to receive some education eventually. I have been meaning to introduce you to Ms Williams but somehow have not had a chance. I think you'd like her very much and I hope there will be a chance to get acquainted.
Please do not think ill of me for making these arrangements. Every ounce of my soul craves for it to be me you marry, but I must, I must make sure all eventualities are covered if I am to have any peace of mind while I'm away. Look after yourself, Marianne, and be brave. This could prove to be just a brief delay in the plans I had made for us and I do not wish to depress you needlessly, but at the same time one should be prepared.
For one moment do not doubt my love for you. It surpasses everything I have ever known in this life and to have as much time with you as I've had has already been a blessing. Now I only wish that I can come back and you will still have me.
All my love,
Christopher