"Miss Dashwood and Miss Margaret are here to see you, Miss," Gerard, our beloved butler, announced as I descended the main stairs.
"Excellent, let them into the drawing room please, Gerard," I replied, and readjusted the unstrung bow, which was safely ensconced by my arms with great care, and hoped that Margaret would enjoy it. I smiled when half of the Dashwood women came into view, and greeted them warmly, "Good afternoon, ladies."
"Good afternoon, Miss Jensen. Thank you for having us in your home," Elinor replied politely; meanwhile, Margaret was a fidgeting, bundle of barely bridled anticipation.
"Are you ready to begin, Margaret?" I asked with a smile. I laughed softly behind a well-placed hand when Margaret nodded her head vigorously. "But first," I added, "You need to open up this parcel for me; it appears to have your name upon it."
Margaret took the parcel with forced patience, as most children are taught to do; she walked over to a small table nearby, and promptly took a seat. She proceeded to rip apart the wrappings, and looked at the long, thin wooden chest with innocent intrigue. She carefully- almost hesitantly- undid the clasp, and lifted the lid; her eyes grew wide, and she jerked her head to look at me with such intensity, her curls bounced about her face. "Is it really to be mine?" she asked, her eyes alight with hope.
I smiled at her again, and answered, "Yes, it is yours." I walked up to her, and gazed down at the contents of the chest with a nostalgic smile. "I cannot think of any other more deserving to be its keeper, I entrust my first bow to you...I received it when I was about your age, so I thought it would be grand to make a tradition of it." I picked up the now small, recurve bow and handed it to Margaret. Her wide eyes flashed from the bow to me, and I handed her a matching quiver filled with dull-tipped, practice arrows, and strapped it across her back. "There you are," I mused.
"Elinor, can you believe it? Miss Jensen has given me her first bow!"
"A most generous gift, thank you, Miss Jensen."
I nodded and wordlessly guided Elinor and Margaret out into my archery area. After I had patiently instructed Margaret the proper form, I went to sit with Elinor while Margaret practiced. "She is a very sweet girl," I commented warmly.
"Yes, but also very wild and spirited," Elinor sighed.
"I find that a highly admirable trait, Miss Dashwood. Don't judge young Margaret too harshly, she is young," I chided her softly. Elinor stared at me curiously, and I met her gaze with a confused, quirked brow. "Miss Dashwood?"
"You are a peculiar young woman, Miss Jensen. But I find your person most agreeable."
"Thank you, and I believe I will find a great friend in you," I agreed. "Where are your mother and Marianne?"
"Mister Willoughby was calling upon Marianne today," Elinor explained.
"Pardon me if I am overstepping boundaries, but do you find anything...odd about Mr. Willoughby?"
Elinor looked slightly surprised, and she did not say anything. I grew uneasy, and hoped that I did not insult Elinor too greatly; I nibbled my lower lip in an attempt to expel my nerves. "I am surprised that you mentioned that, Miss Jensen; you have not met Mr. Willoughby in person, yet you voice a concern that I shared with my mother," Elinor assuaged my fear, and she seemed, at that moment, finally at ease with my company.
"Look, Kiley- I hit the target!" Margaret exclaimed drawing our attention away from the current conversation. Her most recently fired arrow was in the middle of the outermost ring.
"Congratulations, Margaret! You have done quite well, better than I did," I praised her, and went up to her. She smiled up at me, all traces of shyness gone, and I reciprocated her smile. I looked at Elinor over my shoulder and asked her, "Would you like to join me for a ride while Margaret can peruse the library to her heart's content- I believe my father possesses a wonderful atlas she can peruse?"
"That sounds most agreeable, Miss Jensen," Elinor answered.
I turned to Gerard, who had been standing by the entire time, and said, "Gerard, please take Miss Margaret into the library and should she require anything, I would appreciate it if you saw to it personally."
"Of course, Miss, right away."
Elinor and I walked to the stables, and I noticed Elinor was fiddling with something in her dress' pocket. "Select whatever horse you want; just not my behemoth, as the colonel loves to call him, who is currently stuffing his gob," I commented wryly, and smiled at the recollection of Colonel Brandon's last picnic.
Elinor walked up to a stall that contained a chestnut mare my father recently purchased. A wistful expression took hold of her features, but she said nothing to explain. With gentle fingers, she caressed the mare's muzzle and then smiled. A stable worker assisted her in saddling her horse, and as she slipped into the saddle- a handkerchief fell out of her pocket. I walked to it, and plucked the handkerchief up off the ground, Perseus following behind me. The sewn initials, 'E.F.' caught my attention, Elinor looked at me with a wary expression. I smiled faintly at her, and handed her her handkerchief, which once belonged to her mysterious 'E.F.,' without a word.
I mounted Perseus, and shortly thereafter, Elinor and I departed. With only a quick glance, I could tell how much Elinor enjoyed being back in the saddle; we rode in an amiable silence, and my already uplifted spirits rose at the sight of the line of trees that marked the beginning of Delaford. We rode a circuit about my family's estate, and then returned to the house.
"Thank you for the ride, Miss Jensen, it was most enjoyable," Elinor thanked me.
I waved her thanks away with an airy hand, and when we walked into the library- I lurched to a stop. In Margaret's hands, was one of the many books I had written and safely hidden away amongst the seemingly endless tomes. Margaret looked up from the book, and spoke in clear awe, "Elinor, you won't believe how amazing this story is! And Kiley wrote it with her own hand!"
I blushed and wished that the floor would swallow me up. Elinor looked at me with a nonjudgmental, quirked brow; Margaret rose from her place on the floor with the book clutched gently in her hands. "It is a hobby of mine- just a whimsical pursuit- a fancy, if you will," I explained with latent haste.
"May I borrow it so that I may finish it, oh please, Kiley?" Margaret beseeched.
"Margaret, I do not think that it would appropriate," Elinor chided gently.
"No," I corrected, and then met Margaret's eye. "Margaret," I instructed, kneeling down to meet her gaze evenly, "You have to promise me you will take utmost care with that book, it is the only one in existence."
"Oh I promise!" Margaret agreed enthusiastically. She hugged the innocuous, leather-bound journal that contained nights of little or no sleep, the unignorable desire I possessed to see words to consume the page, and my naïve dream to be an author.
I walked them out, and held an arm up in farewell; my father's spare carriage carefully carried them home to Barton Cottage. Just as I turned to enter the house, the sound of another approaching caught my attention. It did not take me long to recognise the people that were occupying said carriage; my heart warmed at the sight of my eldest sister and her family. I hurried down the steps, and impatiently for the carriage to pull to a stop.
The door burst open, and my eight year old nephew, Ayden, came flying towards me. I pulled him into a fierce embrace and peppered his face with kisses. "Oh, how I missed you!" I exclaimed when he began to fuss and pull away.
"You would not believe the volume of noise that child possesses!" a good natured, melodic voice mused from the carriage. I looked up and saw my sister emerging with Elias, her second born son. Her hair, the flawless colour of flax, and pure azure eyes were only the beginning of her beauty, Where she possessed gentle curves, I had sinewy limbs and lithe muscles; where she was light, I was dark- at times I wondered how we looked so akin. My sister, Marci, glided down the steps of the carriage, and when she reached me- she embraced me with her free arm. "It is good to see you, sister, quite a lot of time has passed since we saw each other last," she spoke softly.
"Agreed," I replied, and held her tightly. When Elias, one of the most independent and spirited one year olds, began to fuss- I laughed, "Oh, stop whining and come here to me!" I held him in my arms and placed a gentle kiss on his brow. A smile broke out on his face, and he placed a slobbery kiss of his own on my neck. "Marci, what are you doing here? Not that I mind your arrival."
Marci laughed softly, and answered, "Leave it to Father to neglect to mention our visit. But let's not linger on that, come, you must tell me everything about our new home!" She led me away, and we found ourselves in the library. "Now, little sister, tell me- who is he?" Marci asked expectantly.
A blush blossomed on my cheeks, and I stammered, "P-Pardon? Wh- Whom?"
"Kiley," Marci began, "I am your sister, and what kind of sister would I be if I could not tell when you have found a man that somehow managed to capture your heart?"
Elias' hand latched onto the pendant about my neck, and I gently pried his hand away. "He is a great man, and I find him most handsome," I finally managed to say, and tried to will my blush away. "Also, he seems to appreciate what others find to be unconventional or austere about me," I added with a faint smile.
"Is this the Colonel Brandon that Mama has mentioned multiple times in her letters, who visits regularly?"
"Yes," I said breathlessly. I ran my fingers through Elias' hair when he laid his head in the crook of my shoulder as he started to fall asleep. I imagined the colonel here, and wondered what he would think of my eldest sister; no doubt he would find her beautiful, as had many men before- and no doubt ones she will meet in the future; my mind drifted off, and I faintly heard my sister talking. "Excuse me?" I asked faintly.
Marci rolled her eyes and repeated, "I hope you are less conspicuous around the colonel, for your sake."