Authors Note: Ah! The plot bunnies have attacked me, two chapters in two days! Craziness, I tell you! First, thank you all so incredibly much for the sweet reviews on my last chapter. This one is longer than my usual chapters, I just love writing in Colonel Brandon's view. Not a lot of Marianne and Colonel Brandon interaction...but stay tuned for chapter 9, because it'll be fullof fluff between the two. Don't forget to review! Hope you all enjoy and stick around for the next chapter!
He had never been more nervous in his life.
He had spent years in the military, seen sickness, death, blood, wounds and many other gruesome things. He had spent his life without much regard to his own safety or health. He'd ridden fast horses, nearly gotten himself killed on many of them. He'd seen his life flash before his eyes several times in the battle field, and he couldn't remember a time that his heart beat so fast. He felt as if it could leap out of his chest at any moment. And the cause of all of these emotions was a young, clueless woman.
Marianne. Just the sound of her name chiming in his mind made the butterflies in his stomach flutter about more.
He threw the saddle on his horse, cinching it up quickly before throwing a leg over easily, his body so used to the motions that he rode off without much thought. His horse was used to riding along this path, and thankfully, he was also used to doing most of the working during certain gallops down the road. Christopher had spent many hours galloping the horse down pathways and trails when he couldn't sleep or seem to do much else. When his mind was weary, he couldn't imagine a better place to be than on the back of a galloping horse. And today was not different than those nights, his thoughts completely focused on Marianne Dashwood.
Memories of last night came rushing to him. Reading Donne by a fire while Sir John, one of his dearest friends, prattled on about unimportant topics and circled around the room. The night had taken a dramatic turn when his friend brought the Dashwood's up during a conversation and, by the end of this talk, had convinced the Colonel to proclaim his love to the middle sister. Tomorrow, he had said, I will tell her tomorrow. He went to bed with peace of mind, eager (and a tiny bit hopeful) to see what would occur that next day, praying and crossing every finger that Marianne would welcome, and perhaps even return, his feelings. But by that morning, his peace of mind was nonexistent and he wanted nothing more than to break his promise to Sir John and allow things to remain the same. But, as John had said, he wouldn't be able to stay silent for much longer. He couldn't bear to see Marianne move on from Willoughby and marry another man without knowing that he tried his best to be the man she needed...a man she wanted. And he knew she would eventually move on. Despite what she thought when that scoundrel had left her, she would learn to love again. She was too young, too wonderful, too passionate, to never love again.
At last, the stallion turned the final corner and galloped through the shaded pathway that went directly to the cottage. Before he knew it, he was swinging off the horse and tying him absentmindedly to the post, Margaret already on his heels. "Colonel Brandon! Colonel Brandon!" She cried, a grin on her red face. It was a warm, sunny day, the exact opposite of last night. The ground was still wet beneath his boots and when he finally looked towards the young girl, he saw that the ends of her white dress was drenched with water and coated in mud. He couldn't help but smile, his heart lifted if only for a moment at the sight. How alike Marianne she was - he wondered if she liked going for runs in storms as well. "Captain Margaret," He greeted her. "Have you been taking after your older sister? Running in the rain?" He gestured towards her dress, and she smiled even larger before opening her mouth to reply but being cut off by that very sister, Marianne.
"I certainly hope not." Marianne, her curls seeming to glow in the sun, sat by the pianoforte, arms folded over the open window as she rested her chin upon them. As usual, simply looking at her made him feel like an eighteen year old boy as opposed to a mature and, well, much older man. "If she even thinks about walking in rain I may lock her up for the rest of her life, or at least until she can be married off." Her tone was serious and stern, but by the end of her speech, she was smirking, a mischievous glint in her eye.
After another few moments spent in mostly meaningless conversation, he felt less nervous, but knew that he needed to begin the conversation he'd been looking forward to and dreading at the same time. He asked Marianne if her mother was inside, and, after she told him where she was (in the garden with Elinor, it turned out.) he ventured off to meet her, leaving a clueless Margaret and a confused Marianne. She had known the man for over a year, after all, and she saw that his behavior was off. Whatever would he need her mother for? She recalled last night, when she had been curled in bed with Elinor by her side, admitting her growing feelings for the Colonel and how she felt in his presence. How her heart felt lifted, and she felt happy, truly happy, when he was around. Giddy with excitement and something else that she would later realize was the most passionate love she could've ever hoped for. She let out a breath, pushed a curl back from her forehead and her fingers began their dance upon the piano once more, playing the song that, if she remembered correctly, was the one that she had played when she'd first seen Colonel Brandon. Unbeknown of the fact that that very same man had fallen deeply in love with her, love at first sight, during that moment, when he first saw her face, first heard her play.
Meanwhile, Colonel Brandon and Mrs. Dashwood sat in the garden by a small table, tea had been brought by Elinor and placed on it but was being ignored entirely - Brandon not trusting his nervous stomach at all, and Mrs. Dashwood too excited about the potential of this conversation to even try eating or drinking. After a brief moment of small talk and how-do-you-do's, the Colonel took a breath and started the hardest conversation of his life. (he wondered during this just how hard it would be to broach the topic with Marianne, if Mrs. Dashwood made him feel this way, imagine how terrible it would be attempting to tell the very reason for his nerves!)
"Mrs. Dashwood," He started, praying that his mind would settle long enough to converse with the woman that he so highly respected. "I know that you've been aware of my...feelings, towards your daughter, Miss Marianne, for quite some time." He had spoken with her in great lengths about this topic when he had gone to collect her after Marianne fell ill with the fever. She smiled at him, urging him to continue, and he felt his nerves begin to dissipate gradually as the minutes went by. "Indeed I have, Colonel." She replied easily, finally sipping her tea.
"My feelings towards your daughter have done nothing but grow stronger as the weeks have gone by, and I would be honored if you would give me your permission and..and your blessing, to ask Miss Marianne if she would-"
"If she would like to be in a-an agreement with you?" Mrs. Brandon stammered, and he quickly searched her eyes for any sign of distress or unhappiness, but all he saw was pure joy...and a bit of shock. A smile appeared on her face and he nodded. "Yes, Mrs. Brandon." And in seconds, tears began streaming down the woman's face, and she hurriedly covered them with her hands as he offered her his handkerchief.
"Colonel, I can not begin to tell you how happy I am, how honored I am, to hear that you wish to pursue my daughter. You have been such...such a light in our lives, especially since Marianne's recent illness. I'm not sure how we would've survived without your help."
Not used to, nor a fan, of such flattery and praise, he wished to change the subject, and quickly. "I have enjoyed every moment of it, I assure you."
He and Mrs. Brandon continued talking for nearly an hour, and finally, they rose from the table, and she quickly urged him onto her daughter. He followed her into the cottage, and she requested that Elinor fetch Marianne from upstairs whilst he paced the floor.
Although the Colonel and her mother was unaware, Marianne had done her own share of nervous pacing. After she had finished playing her pianoforte, realizing she was far too fidgety and anxious to play well, she had begun walking up and down the stairs towards her small chamber, and paced the wooden floors near her window, attempting to catch a glimpse of the Colonel outside with her mother. She had so many thoughts running through her mind, so many desires. She hoped more than anything that they were talking about what she imagined, what Elinor had insisted they must be discussing, but she was still so unsure. But as she spent the remainder of her morning waiting to hear the details of the conversation, she realized how deeply she wanted to be his. While she was unsure about so many things, her feelings for the Colonel were the one thing that she was one hundred percent certain about.
Elinor walked into the room, half hiding behind the door with a glimmer of something -tears?- in her eyes. "Marianne, the Colonel wants to speak to you in private."