It was a fresh, cool morning; the leaves were falling softly in the breeze, and Marianne woke early for a walk before breakfast. Wrapped in her spencer coat and a hood, she felt impenetrable to the gathering autumn gloom. She'd resumed her habit of lonesome rambles which gave her time to think or pray or just be out of the watchful eye of her mother and sisters. Indeed, it seemed that every soul in Barton Parish was somehow invested in her goings-on - she could scarcely leave her bedroom without someone asking where she was going or if she wanted company. Even the ball the night before could not really erase the feeling that she was, at every turn, failing to live up to the expectations of those around her.

She passed through the quiet valley and between the hills of Barton, out to the stream that trickled down between them, listening to the birds and the waking squirrels as dawn overtook the sky. When she reached as far as Barton went, before entering the lands beyond, she turned and headed home. No part of her need ever return to Allenham Estate.

At the cottage, her mother and sister were sitting down to table as she walked through the door. "Marianne, I thought you were still asleep after a late night at the park," her mother said.

"No," Marianne replied, removing her outerwear and hanging it on the hook by the door. "We were home quite early. We did not stay later than Elinor and Edward."

"That is right and proper," Mrs Dashwood said, approvingly. "Did they borrow the Colonel's carriage?"

"With the Colonel still in it!" Margaret declared. Their mother shot Marianne an inquiring gaze but did not comment further as he middle child sat down. "The party was everything of the finest. I met ever so many people."

"You barely spared a thought for your family," Marianne chided. "Edward shall think you do not love him any longer."

Margaret rolled her eyes and turned her attention to her plate.

"Was anyone else we know in attendance?"

"Practically everybody. Sir John invites anyone at all and the room was quite warm."

"Marianne, you are quite out of sorts. What has gotten into you?"

"Nothing at all, Mama." She took a bite of her breakfast and a sip of tea. The house creaked slightly as a gentle wind went past; a log snapped in the hearth.

"You should have seen Miss Weston's gown, Mama," Margaret said after a while.

"Oh?"

"Yes, and she did her hair herself, but it was so pretty. Did you see it, Marianne?"

"I did not."

Marianne wanted nothing less than to think about the ball. In truth, a part of her had very much enjoyed being out and in society - had, in fact, enjoyed the dancing, even with the two partners who were more family than anything else. She sighed and looked past her sister and out the window.

"Dearest, are you quite all right?"

Mrs Dashwood worried constantly about her child; since Marianne's illness earlier in the year, it was really all she could think about. She longed for all of her children to be as well settled as her eldest - it seemed Margaret needed no help on that account - but about Marianne, she worried.

"Mama, please do not worry."

"It is my job to worry," Mrs Dashwood replied. "Come, my dear. DId you find no pleasure at the park?"

Marianne said nothing but only looked quietly at her food, any appetite gone. She did not deserve a pleasant night.

At that moment, Margaret interjected, "Colonel Brandon looked quite handsome, didn't he, Marianne?"

"Did he?" she replied, avoiding the studied gaze of her mother.