AN:/ I AM BACK. I was on vacation for awhile, and I'm still exhausted from it! Warning, this is COMPLETELY unedited and I haven't searched it for mistakes. I'm tired from not getting any sleep last night and it's almost midnight, so many apologies for mistakes as I'm sure they are there, but wanted to get an update in asap! Read and review!
The next few days were spent in total bliss. Marianne saw Colonel Brandon nearly every day - unless he was far too busy with business and keeping Delaford in order, he stopped by every morning, usually with a small bunch of flowers or new sheet music or a book that he had found the night before and thought she would enjoy. On the small nighstand beside her bed lay a book, one of the first he had ever loaned her during her fever (she had realized not long ago that she'd forgotten to return it, but when she mentioned it, he urged her to keep it as she had liked it so much) with several flowers from the tiny bouquets he had put together. She always plucked her favorite flower out and pressed them in the book for safe keeping - it was a silly, possibly childish, gesture, and Elinor had teased her for being too girly and romantic for her own good, stashing away dying flowers and keeping his books, but she was unashamed. The books always came to her smelling somewhat like him, probably from being stored in his saddle bag when he rode to the cottage. She realized every time she opened a new book and breathed in the distinct scent that she could no longer read without smelling it and becoming distracted with thoughts of his voice reading to her. He was in her every thought. It caught her by surprise quite often. She had been foolishly in love with Willoughby, but still..it was nothing like the love she felt for Brandon. The way he made her feel, think, act, was far beyond what any poem could have made her expect.
She could hear her mother humming lightly downstairs as she ventured her way to her bedroom - her mother was mending a dress for Margaret and enjoying the occasional sip of tea with Elinor beside her. She would be married in less than three weeks, and she felt completely unprepared to lose her sister, although Colonel Brandon's proposal had dulled that pain. She would be within short miles from her sister at Delaford, since Colonel Brandon had so kindly offered Edward a place to reside. She did not have to worry about losing her to distance, after all. And she would be married not long after. Her and Brandon had not yet set a date, as he had been carried out of town just two days before, but he had assured her that he would come to her as soon as he was settled at home once more and they would discuss the wedding. He hadn't given her a day, not sure how quickly business would be wrapped up, so she eagerly awaited his arrival each day.
She made it to her room finally, steps slowed as she was lost in thought. She knelt down and blindly searched for her books that she had shoved under her bed, left with no other spot for them. She found the one she had been searching for (John Donne, a favorite of Colonel Brandon's.) and quickly went towards the garden area in front of the cottage to find her seat and read. She had hardly begun reading, had only just found her bookmark and was tucking it in her free hand when she heard the sound of galloping hooves on the road. Startled, she stood quickly and went towards the gate, eyes widening with glee when she realized who was galloping towards her.
"Colonel!" She was suddenly very thankful that Margaret had gone to spend the day with Mrs. Jennings - as much as she loved her little sister, she was so obsessed with Colonel Brandon (which pleased her greatly, knowing that her family loved her choice in husband so dearly.) that Marianne hardly spent a second alone with him. As for her Mother and Elinor, they would leave them be, she knew. They had been apart for two days, and while that was a short period of time, it felt like eternity to them. She called for him, not able to contain her grin. He sat back in the saddle, gripping the reins tighter to slow the horse into a canter, then a trot, before dismounting in a hurry and finally stopping his stallion from continuing on. He tied him to the gate before unlatching it and coming through, beaming at his future bride. "Marianne," Once again, their personalities showed their differences. While she was uncontrollable at times, exuberant and excitable, unable to contain her happiness and willing to eagerly call out his name, he was her calm fixture. But the way he said her name, although calm and serene as always, was filled with such love and fondness it made her weak in the knees. "I've missed you."
"I've missed you as well." And she had. An embarrassing amount. "Just think, if we can hardly spend two days apart, how will we spend weeks apart when you have to leave for business and it takes longer?"
"I'll have to take you with me. That's the only solution, of course." He had a teasing glint in his eye, and she smiled playfully in return, tucking her arm into her elbow. "Would you?" She asked, half joking.
"You'd probably be bored nearly to death."
"Being bored is much better than missing you." When she said this, he looked down at her with a surprised look on his face. "I can't picture you going to trips just for business and not wanting to shrivel up and die. Wouldn't you miss running in fields and getting caught in rain?" She was thankful, so thankful, that he was able to act normal with her after her illness and was able to joke with her. Things seemed natural, and after so long of living with her Mother and Elinor and how stiff they were with her for so many weeks after, it was a breath of fresh air to have someone treat her as she was, not as glass that would break at the mention of her past.
"I like running in fields, Colonel, but I like you far more." She met his gaze, and could have sworn he had become choked up after her statement, but he looked away too quickly. She was becoming aware of his feelings, and how unworthy he felt. Perhaps it was due to their difference in age or simply because of how she had treated him not long ago, she was not sure. Thinking of herself being above him in any way, of him not being worthy of her, was laughable in Marianne's mind. She, she thought, was the one who was not worthy of his love and friendship. She had felt blessed to simply have him as a friend, let alone as a..a romantic interest. Her future husband. "I love you far more." She corrected herself. The word "like" was not nearly enough to capture her feelings. Nor was the word love, she realized. What she felt was far beyond what words could express.
They had walked towards where she had been sitting before he had arrived, and she broke away from him briefly, tossing a smile towards him and signalling for him to wait as she went back inside to retrieve the seat he usually sat on. She managed to escape the house without alerting her family, thankful to have another few minutes of privacy with him before they wanted to visit with him as well. She placed the seat in its place, grinning at him. "I'm not sure if you have anything planned-"
"Nothing. Did you have something in mind?" He raised a brow, taking his seat and fighting back a smile. Her enthusiasm still shocked him. The fact that she wanted him to stay..it made his heart leap nearly out of his chest.
"I was about to read Donne." She raised a brow, too, matching his expression. "And I know Donne just happens to be one of your weaknesses and I am willing to bribe you with him in order to convince you to stay." Ha, he thought, as if I'd need convincing.
"I enjoy Donne, but I believe you are my greatest weakness." He took the book from her hand when she sat in front of him, knees nearly touching hers. Sitting so near to her was, perhaps, a touch improper, but they were engaged and the only reason they hadn't already scheduled a date very quickly was because his business was insistent on getting in his way. He would have loved nothing more than to have whisked her away and married her the day after he had proposed. He would marry her, and he would be a gentleman, but he couldn't bear the idea of not touching her at all save for helping her down off the carriage and briefly touching her hand, or leading her into a room with a hand on her back at functions. He craved more, even if it was only having her tucked in his side or his shoulders brushing hers or his legs near hers. He wanted closeness.
"Even greater than Bach?" She said Bach with a look of disgust in her eyes. "Greater than Bach, even though you disappoint me greatly in your taste of composers. At least your taste in books are far better."
"Of course you like my taste in books, most of my books have come from you."
"Well, I do have wonderful taste."
"Of course. You picked me, after all, which shows how wonderful your taste is." They bantered back and forth for several minutes, a smile on both of their faces throughout those moments. He had been around many young women in his time - he had been an eligible bachelor for years, of course, and although he was older than most of them that he'd met lately, and was a bit of a recluse, he was still rather sought after if only for his money and his grand estate. He had been forced into conversations with women who thought that they were potential wives for him (and none of them ever were.) and he had wanted to run away screaming because of most of the topics and how polite they were. And, although he despised the thought of men and women acting like impolite children, he wished that he woud meet someone who would talk to him as a friend, as an equal, instead of a woman who simply agreed with everything he said. And he had found that in Marianne, at last. She was polite in company, but still never allowed herself to be run over. She was intelligent, extremely gifted, and he knew she would be a wonderful hostess and wife. Not only that, but most importantly, she could hold her own with him. He didn't have to dumb down conversation simply because of her presence, in fact, he was challenged daily by her.
"Colonel? Colonel?" Her voice snapped him out of his reverie, and he seemed to notice her just then. "Where were you?"
"Next to you."
"I was talking to you, asking you a question, but you seemed to have been in another world."
"I was dreaming of you playing Bach."
"Please, don't get your hopes up." She paused for a moment, uncrossing her legs and sitting forward until she was close enough to grasp his hands in hers, resting them on his lap. "Really, where were you? Are you tired? You've been riding all day and now I've kept you from resting-"
"I'm perfectly fine and well rested, just easily distracted, I suppose." But she didn't seem too convinced.
"Distracted by what, exactly?" A sparkle returned in her eye, and he glanced around the cottage and could see her mother and Elinor through the window, their backs facing them. Assured that they were indeed in private, he held an arm out for her and pulled her closer until she was resting on his knee. "By you."
"Oh?" She couldn't meet his eyes, now. He very rarely saw a shy version of Marianne, and he was pleasantly surprised to see how he effected her.
"I was lost in thought..thinking of how lucky I am to have you. I don't deserve you, not at all. I hope..I hope you know how very much I care for you. How much I love you." He saw her swallow, a hand rising briefly to her mouth before resting on his shoulder. She sat back, further into his arms, and finally looked at him again. "I love you, too. I'm not sure why you think you're unworthy, Colonel Brandon, but I am completely dedicated to making you feel worthy. Because you are. You are far, far more than worthy. After all I put you through...Willoughby, ho-how mean I was to you. I'm so sor-"
"Don't apologize. It's over and done with, now." He cleared his throat, lifting the copy of Donne from the ground beside him, careful not to lean too much and jostle her, and handed it over. "Now, I believe you promised me John Donne."