I looked at the faces of the crowds, hoping to find a familiar face, and I finally found one. I weaved my way through the crowd, and called out happily, "Elinor!" I wrapped my arms around my dear friend, who swiftly followed suit. "How I have missed you," I whispered into her ear, voice thick with emotion.
"I have missed you too, and young Margaret is absolutely beside herself."
I leaned away to get a good look at her, and smiled when I saw her eyes shimmering with mirth. Over her shoulder, I saw Marianne, and that caused me to suddenly remember my cousin James Bennion had arrived and wished to meet the infamous, and certainly beautiful, Marianne Dashwood. "Elinor, get Marianne and meet me back here," I explained hastily, and politely hurried away to retrieve my cousin. I tugged James through the masses, my nerves alight with meddling tingles of anticipation. "Marianne, Elinor, may I present to you my dear cousin, Lord James Bennion." When James bowed in greeting, I did not fail to note the spark that ignited in Marianne's eyes.
"Ladies, it is a pleasure to meet such fine friends of Kiley's," Robert said to the two of them; however, his eyes were only on Marianne. "Miss Marianne, may I tempt you with suffering through a dance with me?" he asked with a warm smile curving his lips.
"Of course, Lord Bennion," Marianne answered softly, a becoming blush blooming on her cheeks.
Elinor and I watched James twirl Marianne away and onto the dance floor, and Elinor said to me, "Thank you, Miss Jensen, that is the first time I have seen Marianne smile in weeks."
"Do not give me your gratitude, it is James who is doing to work for me," I chortled softly and watched said couple dance. James was absolutely besotted with Marianne, and it appeared that his affection was not unrequited. "How long are you in London, Elinor?"
"A few weeks or so, I believe. Marianne and I are staying with Mrs. Jennings in her house here."
"Splendid! I would love it if you and Marianne would join me New Year's Eve to celebrate my birthday with me."
"We would be delighted, thank you," Elinor replied with a faint, warm smile.
"Willoughby!" I heard Marianne cry out over the noise of the party. I did not need to hear the loathsome words that undoubtedly fell from Mr. Willoughby's silver tongue- I knew enough from Marianne's crestfallen, mortified expression and demeanor. While Marianne and Willoughby briefly conversed, I saw Miss Sophia Grey smirk knowingly at Marianne as she looked up with a malicious gleam in her eye. Marianne rushed out of the ballroom, followed by gossip-mongering whispers, and James on her heels. Willoughby and Miss Grey retreated to a drawing room with the rest of his company, and I set off with a determined rigidity about me.
"Kiley, don't-"
"-Elinor, see to Marianne with James, I would like to have a few choice words with Mr. Willoughby," I hissed in interjection, my figurative hackles raised and on edge. I stalked into the drawing room, and when I found him- he was acting as his encounter with Marianne never happened.
"Ah, Miss Jensen, how lovely to see you, I-" the pompous-and pardon me- arse was cut off by my fist colliding into his jaw. He staggered and reeled backwards, crashing into the people behind him. After the gasps and soft shrieks of surprise, the drawing room was eerily silent as they took me in with disdain.
"Don't you dare, John Willoughby! I have had far enough of you and your philandering ways!" I spat, and glared up at him with as much venom as I could muster. The party around us had gone quiet, and I could feel the incredulous stares of further disapproval burning my skin, but I was far from finished. "Next time you decide you want to play with a young girl's heart- think again," I finished, stepping forward, and punched him in the nose. I smiled ruefully at the crack of bone, and the blood that spurted slightly from his nose. I gathered the skirts of my dress in my hands, flinching slightly at the intense, brief pain of my knuckles, and stormed out of the drawing room. "I am leaving, and I think I shall walk," I explained curtly to Marci and Jason as I donned on my winter cloak and gloves. I threw a scathing glare at Willoughby, and then looked to Marci. "I will see you when you and Jason return to the house," I mumbled, before I went into the crisp, frigid air. I ignored the waiting carriage, and went in the opposite direction of the Davenport house; the bitter cold nipped at my nose, and I drew the hood of my cloak closer to my face. A sigh of relief fell from my lips when the colonel's house came into view. I trudged up the front steps, and rapped the knocker against the door.
Eliza's face peeked out from between the crack in the now open door, and a smile broke out on her face. "Oh! Hello, Miss Jensen!" she exclaimed. Behind her, I saw Colonel Brandon approach and my heart fluttered in my chest. "Come in, come in," Eliza added and pulled me out of the cold, winter night.
"Why hello, Miss Jensen."
"Forgive me, Colonel, but- well, you see- I was at the party...hit Willoughby- twice! Then, well...I left," I stammered incoherently.
"You struck Willoughby?!" Eliza asked incredulously. Suddenly, she threw her arms around me and embraced me fiercely; hesitantly, I returned her embrace, and smiled sheepishly at Colonel Brandon.
"Miss Jensen, you have injured you hand," Colonel Brandon mused, and came closer, "Would you allow me to ascertain if it is broken?"
"Of course," I answered, breathless and blushing. Eliza smiled knowingly at me, and left us alone with the excuse of needing to check in on the baby.
Colonel Brandon took hold of my cold hand in his warm one, and frowned at the sight of my bruised knuckles. With gentle, probing fingers, he rolled my knuckles; when I winced audibly, he looked up from his task and murmured, "Forgive me, it is never my intention to cause you pain."
My heart ached at his words- especially, "Forgive me," it only reminded me of the picnic and when he left. The last portion of his statement made me forget for one short, blissful moment, that he was in love with another. For one brief moment, I reveled in my fantastical ignorance, and found myself falling further and further and further in love with him as I gazed into his eyes. "What is your verdict, Colonel, am I to be away from the archery and fencing arenas?" I asked in a teasing whisper.
"No, it is not that severe- although I strongly recommend refraining from striking anymore men...no matter how deserving they are," he replied smoothly, the mischievous twinkle in his eyes caused me to laugh. "Come this way, you need a compress to reduce the swelling." We walked into an empty kitchen, and Colonel Brandon motioned for me to take a seat at the small table. I watched him pump water out of the spicket-sink onto a handkerchief, carefully wring it out, and then came to take a seat in the chair opposite me. "Give me your hand," he murmured gently as he held out a hand to place mine in.
Slowly, I did as he requested, and a soft sigh escaped as the cold cloth was placed over my burning, aching knuckles. "Thank you, sir," I spoke gently.
"No, Miss Jensen, do not thank me. It is I who should be voicing my sincerest gratitude. You, out of loyalty to your friends, struck a man of high social standing surrounded by the most elite of society, and risked slandering your name-" he began.
I held up my uninjured hand to silence him and argued, with a blush forming on my cheeks, "I only did what I perceived to be right, Colonel, it was nothing extraordinary. Now please, stop trying to make me out as some heroine, one might think you have a hero complex."
"I like her." Colonel Brandon and I jerked at the sound of Eliza's voice coming from the doorway. Eliza walked into the kitchen with her daughter in her arms; Eliza sat in the chair closest to me, which gave me a perfect vantage point of the slumbering infant's angelic features.
"What is her name? I never heard either of you speak it," I inquired softly.
"She doesn't have one yet," Eliza replied faintly, her cheeks turning pink. She caught her bottom lip with her teeth and worried it pensively. "Would you...would you assist in naming her?" Eliza asked, so faintly I almost did not hear her.
"Oh no, I couldn't! She is your daughter, Eliza; you are the one to name her."
Eliza gazed down at her baby with evident confusion; I could only imagine the multitude of questions that were crashing through the young woman's mind; the biggest one being what name would she give her daughter to be known by the world, friends, and family by? Then suddenly, her entire demeanor changed and she looked up at Colonel Brandon and me with a beautiful smile. "Emily," she spoke, "Her name is Emily."
"A beautiful name, don't you agree, Colonel?" I looked to the colonel, and saw his eyes flickering between Emily and me. My eyes met his and I knew he could see the latent, intrigued confusion in my eye.
"It is late, Miss Jensen, I shall escort you home."
"Christopher?" Eliza asked, looking at him with a quirked brow that reminded me much of him.
"Very well, sir," I said, and went to get my cloak and then waited for the colonel. I could hear Eliza's raised voice, but could hear part of her tangent.
"...must you be so cold?! I know you...honestly, Christopher- you know how beautiful...surely you don't think a hundred suitors were not watching her tonight?!"
Colonel Brandon appeared and to my surprise, he looked quite scolded and extremely uneasy. "Eliza shoved these upon my person to lend to you; she said it was far too cold to be without proper cover...may I assist you as your hand is still tender by appearances?"
I nodded mutely and held out my hands; as he dragged the first glove up my arm, his fingers ran along the hypersensitive expanse of skin of the underside of my forearms. Goosebumps erupted along my arms, and my breath caught in my throat. My eyes peeked up at him, and were immediately ensnared by his entrancing, darkened hazel. We stood there, with his fingers still unknowingly teasing my skin, and I for one was incapable of being the one to break our visual contact.
Colonel Brandon cleared his throat nervously, and then almost hesitantly guided me back to Marci's home. The streets of London were bereft of their multitudes, and I enjoyed the silently falling snow that melted as soon as it touched ground. I slid my arm out of the colonel's and released the pins constraining my hair, which were digging painfully into my scalp and in great disarray. I ruffled my fingers through my hair and let out a content sigh; I saw the colonel giving me a queer look, and so I inquired softly, "Yes, sir?"
"Oh- I did not realise how long your hair was, and merely thought you should wear it down more often," he explained in a hurry, and as he spoke he refused to meet my eye- but I could still see the faint tinge of pink on his cheeks.
"Well, thank you, Colonel..." I trailed off nervously. We arrived at the landing of my sister's home, and I turned to face him. "Thank you for escorting me, Colonel, despite being highly unnecessary- it was highly appreciated."
"I would have to be an incredibly dense fool if I allowed a young woman such as you walk the streets of London at night unescorted," he argued modestly.
I rolled my eyes in feigned annoyance then asked, "Will you be attending the ball in honour of my birthday the day after tomorrow? It is my birthday after all- and please bring Eliza and Emily."
"Miss Jensen-" he began.
"-No," I promptly interjected, "I want you all to be there, or I will leave the ball and come collect you myself."
"Very well," he agreed. He bowed and then said, "Until then."