31 July

Margaret and I have just returned from the most delightful wander through the countryside only to find Willoughby by Marianne's side again. I do not dislike Willoughby, really, but it sometimes feels as though the Dashwood home revolves around his presence. In exchange for the daily visit of Willoughby, we have lost the regular visits from Colonel Brandon. I believe Elinor and I are the only ones to even notice his absence and indeed, I regret it the most.

Willoughby and Marianne are constant companions: at our home during the day and at Barton Park most evenings. Sir John seems determined to fill our time with the entertainments he delights in arranging and truly, there are few evenings without an invitation for a dance or other diversion. I find I do not mind the dances as much as I had feared, for despite his clear preference for Marianne, Colonel Brandon has proved to be the consummate gentleman and has obligingly asked both Elinor and myself to dance at least once per evening. The thrill of spinning round the floor as his partner surely means more to me than it does to him, but to merely be chosen even as a matter of politeness warms me toward him even further.

Mama seems most content with the way our lives have settled. Elinor and I have endeavored to accomplish Margaret's education as much as we are able; Elinor assuming responsibility for French and numbers and myself with history and writing. Marianne is supposed to be teaching her to play the pianoforte but indeed spares little time from Willoughby to be bothered with her sister.

I should be happy for Marianne, should I not? For she has found the exact man she once despaired could exist and he delights in her equally as much. By all accounts they will be remarkably happy together.

Truly, my dislike for Willoughby comes from a more personal reason and that is his unconcealed dislike for Colonel Brandon. Indeed, he is quite vocal in his opinion of the man and admittedly without just cause. Once Willoughby dared voice his dislike Marianne seemed to take it as permission (for Willoughby can do no wrong in her eyes) to follow his lead and express her own dislike for a man who has been nothing but admiring and kind to her. Elinor spoke up in his defense, much to my relief, and reprimanded them both for being uncharitable to a man who is (in her words) sensible, well-bred, well-informed, and amiable.

And Elinor should know. In the face of Marianne's obvious delight with Willoughby, Elinor and Colonel Brandon have found themselves in company more often than before. I try not to be resentful that he would seek out Elinor. This dear sister certainly deserves the attention of a man so worthy of her and I do not have the right to dislike her for it. I obviously have nothing of value that he is interested in, though it makes my heart ache to admit such a thing.

Yet I truly do not believe he fancies Elinor as anything more than a friend for despite their frequent conversations, his eyes remain on Marianne and Willoughby while they talk.

I worry for Elinor; not that she will lose her heart to the colonel as I am certain Edward still holds possession of that particular organ. But we have been from Norland these two months with no word in any way from Edward. I did not expect as much after overhearing that last bewildering conversation but I have hoped I would be wrong in my assessment of him and that he would come once he got free of Fanny's manipulations.

Elinor says nothing, reveals nothing, mourns nothing. She is the picture of propriety itself. But I know she remembers and I know she feels his absence. For last week when I was helping Betsy with the laundry, I found a man's handkerchief in Ellie's dress pocket embroidered with the initials EMF. Since discovering it, I have noticed that during those infrequent moments when she sits and stares into the distance, she does so with her hand in the pocket of the handkerchief. I do not know if she is aware of that particular habit but I most assuredly understand the emotion she experiences during those times.

4 August

A most unexpected thing occurred last night when we were at the Park for the evening. I have not yet decided if it was good or bad; that will undoubtedly be determined in the future. I had taken along the little story I have been writing and thought to work on it in my expected solitude whilst card games and conversation went on around me.

My family knows my passion for writing silly things that come into my head and when I am particularly delighted with one I will share it with them in a little informal recitation. Willoughby is now aware of my hobby as well, as he was present one day when Marianne begged to know what had me giggling in the corner. I was reluctant to share it in his presence but no amount of protestation on my part would convince them to allow me peace. It was well-received and earned approval from all present, which lifted my spirits considerably.

On the evening last, however, Willoughby was behaving in a most aggravating manner. Perhaps he was bored or looking to create some excitement. Perhaps he feels so comfortably a part of my family that I am simply another sister to tease. I know not of his intentions but I know the embarrassment he caused me.

You see, he snuck up on me whilst I was writing, snatched my story from under my quill, and proceeded to inform the company that I would be entertaining all with my latest masterpiece. I do not recite in public, or on demand. My stories are for my own amusement, and for those with whom I choose to share. In truth, I greatly fear to be laughed at for the musings of my imagination and know that an audience which includes Sir John and Mrs. Jennings is not likely to be generous. I realize they are not intentionally malicious but thoughtlessness can hurt as badly as deliberate meanness.

Marianne immediately joined Willoughby in demanding I share my story, which led Sir John and Mrs. Jennings to also begin clamoring for me to contribute to the evening's entertainment. I saw Elinor and Colonel Brandon observing me; Elinor with sympathy, being well aware of my dislike for being the center of attention, and the colonel with curiosity. I realized I could either be a very poor sport and end up looking like a petulant child or I could shakily gather my courage around me and share something personal. And it is not as though I have never been laughed at; it has not killed me before and would not likely this time.

I requested ten more minutes to finish writing and it was granted. Truly, the story was finished – I had merely been checking the wording to make sure I was satisfied with the final presentation. I used those ten minutes to convince myself that I could do this without fainting or running from the room in terror. When Elinor approached to encourage me and tell me she was proud of me I knew I could do it, if only to continue making my sister proud. I would not even allow myself to consider what Colonel Brandon might think of my foolishness.

When my minutes were up I stood, gathered my work, cleared my throat, and moved to stand beside the pianoforte to give the best vantage to my audience. I started reading in a rather shaky, weak voice which made me cringe inside but I pushed on, and as both I and my audience became engrossed in the story, I was able to read with proper energy and enthusiasm. A quick glance assured me that everyone was listening carefully and no one was openly mocking me yet.

When I finished there was a moment of silence, as though everyone was considering what they just heard, before they broke into applause. I held my breath and looked at the faces of my audience. Elinor was beaming with pride while Mama, Marianne and Willoughby looked satisfied. Lady Middleton appeared to be distastefully astonished but as this was similar to her usual look I did not let it concern me. Sir John and Mrs. Jennings were effusive with their enthusiastic clapping. I had saved Colonel Brandon for last, fearing his reaction the most. I was heartened to see his smile had reached his eyes, which, to me, meant he was pleased and perhaps a little surprised to learn the invisible Emmeline could be as delightful as her twin.

16 August

I am so furious with Marianne! She is the most self-involved, thoughtless girl. I know Elinor already spoke to her of this unacceptable behavior but she just laughed it off, caring not that she has left herself and indeed our whole family open to impertinent remarks of impropriety. She went driving with Willoughby today and ended up in Allenham ALONE with him.

It had promised to be a most lovely day, with even the weather choosing to cooperate. Colonel Brandon had invited our entire party for a drive and day at his cousin's home of Whitwell. We were gathered bright and early and the carriages were assembling when a rider came bearing a message for the colonel which disturbed him so greatly he departed immediately for London with extreme regrets for ruining our party but no explanation, regardless of how rudely Mrs. Jennings tried to force one out of him. I am so out of patience with that woman.

At any rate, there was no dissuading the colonel to abandon his plans (and indeed I did not wish to for the look upon his face told of great hope alongside great anxiety) and he left with barely a goodbye and an indication he would not likely return to Barton any time soon. Once he had quitted our group it was decided a ride about the countryside would be an acceptable alternative to our day and so we proceeded. This is the point where Marianne joined Willoughby in his curricle and they were not seen again until dinner.

Mrs. Jennings, of course, learned of where they'd been (that woman must have informants all over the country to have so quickly uncovered such a thing) and immediately began teasing Marianne about it. I was as horrified as Elinor looked but there was nothing either of us could do as Marianne and Willoughby did not deny the accusations.

The only conclusion Ellie and I could reach is that they must be engaged, to willingly participate in such scandalous behavior. But if they are, why will they not confess as much? I cannot understand the point behind this secrecy. Mama refuses to ask Marianne about it, insisting we will all wait for it to be revealed in their own timing.

7 October

Colonel Brandon has been gone for three weeks. I did not know it was possible to so strongly miss someone with whom I rarely interacted, but of whom I was always aware. My whole being longs to hear his voice, and I most embarrassingly confess to sitting nearer Sir John and Mrs. Jennings than usual, in hopes that news from him will be mentioned. How I wish he would miss me as achingly as I miss him. I am doomed to misery, am I not?

Something unexpected has occurred between Marianne and Willoughby, but explanations from neither of them are forthcoming. All I know is Willoughby is gone to town, sent away by his aunt, and Marianne is miserable and will not speak of it. Mama and Elinor are as confused as I am. Willoughby departed in a most disturbing manner and refused to accept Mama's very generous invitation to come back to Barton as our guest, if he were not to be welcomed by his aunt again this year. Elinor feels something more serious is going on but Mama is horrified at the suggestion that Willoughby is anything but what we have always thought him to be. I am inclined to agree with Elinor.

We Dashwood girls are quite the mess. Marianne knows she is loved and mourns the loss of her beloved. Elinor knows not if she is loved but mourns the separation from her beloved. I know that I am not loved and yet mourn something I will likely never have. What kind of fool am I? What kind of fools are we all?

15 October

Edward has come! I will be all ears so as not to miss anything noteworthy. Oh, that one of us sisters might find some happiness…

22 October

And he is gone already. I have observed and listened with all my might and the only thing I know for sure is that neither Elinor nor Mama nor Marianne nor Margaret has any idea if Edward has intentions toward Elinor.

When he arrived he was in high spirits but in the time it took to walk from the lane to the cottage he became quiet and withdrawn again. When he greeted Mama he once again regained his joviality, to the degree that Edward has ever been jovial, at any rate. Conversation with him was delightful before he would turn sullen and silent. His behavior was mercurial and bewildering. I often thought he was delighted to be here with us but at the same time it pained him more than he could bear. His behavior toward Elinor, particularly, was as reserved as it ever was; he seemed determined to treat her no differently than he did any of us.

When talk would come of his leaving, he became particularly pained, and yet would vocalize the unavoidable need to indeed leave soon. I believe he knows no more what he wants than we do. Or perhaps he is more under his sister's and, therefore, his mother's control than we realize.

Our week with our adopted brother was lovely and much too short. I wish I understood him better. Maybe then I would know how to comfort Elinor. She is no different now than she was before he came. Marianne rails against her for demonstrating no emotion at his leaving – so completely opposite of Marianne's weeping and moroseness – that she believes her to be completely unfeeling in the matter. And yet I know better, for Elinor's hand has been in her handkerchief pocket nearly every hour since he left.