AU: Thank you all for your wonderfully encouraging reviews. This next chapter was completed well over a week ago, but I've been holding off because it brings with it quite a change of direction for the story. I hope you can all stick with me and tell me what you think. Don't panic just yet; love is only stronger when it is tested! So without further ado...
That evening, Elinor subtly watched Marianne and Colonel Brandon throughout the duration of a charming meal. The small but lively group had all been gathered into the formal dining room following their long afternoon away, their number expanded slightly with the arrival of Sir John Middleton and his ever lively mother-in-law, Mrs. Jennings. As the host and hostess of the evening, the pair was obliged to sit at the opposing heads of the table. The distance that separated them was extremely unpleasant to both, Elinor was quick to observe, growing increasingly aware of the shared glances the husband and wife were often casting one another.
Whenever one spoke, the other was sure to pay rapt attention. When Marianne laughed aloud, Christopher watched in obvious enchantment, and when Christopher amiably took part in any of the shifting conversations, his Marianne was careful to hang upon his every word, admiration radiating from every bit of her being. Elinor was truly pleased. At last, it appeared that her sister had learnt at least in some part the true meaning of love. Love was not always burning passion and euphoric joy. Often it was much softer, more gentle and subtle than a fleeting breeze, and yet more powerful than any other force that could be imagined. So she had discovered with Edward, and so now Marianne was discovering with Christopher.
"I would have joined you all this afternoon," Sir John was proclaiming loudly, tearing with his knife and fork into his meat with no pretense of manners. "Except that two of my best pointers are ill, the poor things." Mrs. Jennings nodded emphatically, hastily swallowing and flapping her hands all the while.
"Yes, it is really rather unfortunate!" she added the moment she could speak again, setting her cutlery down loudly. "But the doctor was sent for right away, and Cook prepared a most sumptuous feast for them. I daresay they shall be well again within another day or so." Marianne, who sat just beside her, took a sip of cool punch, smiling amusedly behind her glass. There was a time that Marianne would have perhaps shuddered to spend an evening in the unorthodox woman's company, but she had grown fond of the lady despite her constant antics. Now that Marianne was a married woman, she was at least free from Mrs. Jennings' matchmaking schemes.
There were some sympathetic comments murmured around the room, and it was clear that Margaret was the one most affected by Sir John's sick animals. She looked truly forlorn at his announcement, though Mrs. Jennings did cheer her some. "I do hope they will get better soon," the young woman piped up sincerely. Sir John chortled affectionately and Mrs. Jennings cooed over her sweet sentiment. It was no secret that Margaret dearly loved the strange pair, though her mother still oft times feared that their occasional disregard for manners would affect her youngest girl.
"Yes, they shall rally again," Christopher agreed wholeheartedly, raising his glass in a toast. "To your dogs, Sir John," he said solemnly, a wry grin belying his humor.
"To the dogs!" the table echoed as everyone raised their glass, laughing softly at their strange toast. Long after the toast had been finished, Marianne's bright smile did not fade. She was utterly charmed by her husband's dry wit, something she had only begun to discover just before their wedding. He was often quiet by nature, seeking to never draw too much attention to himself or to offend the good graces of any of his acquaintances. And yet in those moments when he was surrounded by those he loved, especially when he and Marianne were wonderfully alone together, the true playfulness of his nature shone through. It was startling at times, as it had been earlier in the day, but nevertheless always truly enjoyable and deeply cherished by his adoring wife.
"Now, my dear," Mrs. Jennings began again animatedly, her attention directed to the demure Elinor. "How are you finding married life? Still as wonderful as ever, I do hope? Well, of course it is. Just look at you, fast approaching the day when another little Ferrars will join you. I see that your lovely sister and her husband are quite happy too, as I knew well they would be. Yes, you look almost as happy as my Charlotte, bless her heart. She is with child again, you know."
Elinor smiled gently, nodding politely. Everyone present had heard at least a dozen times or more that Mrs. Jennings' daughter, Charlotte, and her husband were to have a baby by the winter. Marianne glanced meaningfully at Elinor, raising an eyebrow ever so slightly. They shared their thoughts wordlessly; both had some experience with Charlotte and her husband, and agreed that they were simply one of the most poorly matched couples of their acquaintance. How brusque Mr. Palmer would react to another child was quite a curious thing to the sisters. When the Palmers visited again, they would each observe with no little interest.
The dinner was ended and the whole party moved to the drawing room where there was more than enough room for everyone to make themselves quite comfortable. Sir John singled out Christopher immediately, drawing him toward the blazing flames of the grand fireplace and launching swiftly into a discussion of war and politics, though dogs did somehow enter their conversation now and again. Mrs. Dashwood was likewise singled out by Mrs. Jennings, and the two women rested upon a sofa deep in conversation. Margaret drew near them, eager to listen in on whatever gossip the rotund and amiable Mrs. Jennings was sure to discuss.
"I would call this little party of yours a singular success," Edward told Marianne pleasantly as he, his wife and sister-in-law went to the opposite side of the room, lingering near the beautiful pianoforte that Marianne loved so dearly.
"The praise belongs to Christopher," Marianne replied, glancing lingeringly at him where he stood by the fire. "He would never accept such praise, but the truth is that he is the most efficient party planner I have ever known." The trio laughed softly, their conversation drifting to the future and plans for Edward and Elinor with the imminent arrival of their child. The topic of a name was broached again, and Marianne teased them mercilessly, suggesting terrible name after terrible name, each one determinedly worse than the previous.
"I look forward to the day we speculate on your children, Marianne," Elinor remarked rather dryly, though there was considerable humor shining in her soft eyes. "We shall have to devise some interesting names for you then."
"Marianne!" Mrs. Jennings interrupted from across the room, waving at her. "Marianne, my dear, you simply must entertain us on that marvelous instrument of yours. It has been nearly two weeks since I have been privileged to hear that sweet voice of yours and I simply insist you give me the pleasure of hearing it now."
"Of course, Mrs. Jennings. I should be delighted to." Marianne smiled good-naturedly and graciously went to the pianoforte. In a moment the sweet, passionate tones of her voice filled the room, adding warmth and life. It never took much persuasion to entice Marianne to perform. Music was her life and passion, as it had been since her childhood.
Christopher turned from the fireplace, vaguely aware that his friend was continuing to chat away animatedly. Yet his full attention was now fully on the angel seated at the pianoforte, and to his eyes there was never a more beautiful sight. This did not escape the notice of Elinor and Mrs. Dashwood, and after a moment even Mrs. Jennings saw with no small amount of satisfaction Colonel Brandon's spellbound gaze.
"Ah, Mrs. Dashwood," she drawled contentedly, settling further back into the sofa, "it does please my old heart to see the Colonel and your Marianne so happily settled. I knew right away that they would be a splendid match, though it took your daughter some time to come to her senses, I daresay." Mrs. Dashwood smiled bemusedly, knowing that the talkative woman meant no offense. And in her way, she certainly had proven most correct on the matter.
The evening wound to a close and with warm farewells the party dispersed. Elinor and Edward, living very nearby, were the last to leave. The sisters embraced, wreathed in smiles. "I shall see you again very soon," Marianne promised. In truth, scarcely two days went by when Elinor and Marianne did not see one another in some way. For the time being, each was eager to join their husbands, and so their goodbye was brief.
Waving goodbye to them at the drive, Marianne sighed aloud, suddenly feeling rather weary from a day so pleasantly spent. She felt rather than saw her husband draw close, and his arm wrapped around her waist as he escorted her back inside their beautiful home. Harrison stood at the door, smoothly shutting it behind them as they leisurely passed by. Marianne was prepared to return to the drawing room to finish the evening but was stopped as her husband gently guided her beyond its doors. "I have waited far too long to have you to myself," he murmured warmly, prompting her to laugh happily.
"Our plans await, I suppose?" she grinned, and with a wicked chuckle he quickened his pace, dragging the giggling Marianne behind him.
"It is a very important plan, Madam, and I see no reason in delaying it," was his teasing reply.
"Once a military man, always a military man," she laughed. Their plan was put into effect very shortly after.
The morning dawned warm and bright, soft shafts of sunlight shimmering through the tall windows of the bedroom. Wrapped in Christopher's arms, Marianne awoke slowly, a soft smile accompanying her sigh of contentment. She stretched languidly, and at length her eyes fluttered open. She slowly turned to gaze on her husband's peaceful face.
He was deeply asleep and Marianne did not wish to disturb him. She felt so invigorated, so full of life this morning, she could hardly contain herself. Eager to embrace the morning, she slipped from his warm embrace and hastily drew on a pale blue morning dress.
She did not bother to ring for her maid, deciding she'd prepare to greet the day more fully a little later, after she enjoyed a brisk walk through Delaford's vast grounds. Binding her hair into a simple chignon, she all but ran from the room, pausing only to place a soft kiss on her sleeping husband's brow before leaving.
The day was as fine as she had anticipated, with a sky so clear and blue it seemed to stretch on forever. Smiling to an elderly gardener, Marianne wasted no time in journeying beyond the well kept gardens and out onto the rolling hills. Some things never changed, and Marianne's unquenchable thirst for nature and all its beauty was one of those things.
Her walk continued for some duration, taking her far enough that Delaford house was no longer visible. Pausing on the crest of a hill, she took in one last view of her emerald surroundings and prepared to return home and, with much anticipation, to her husband's side. Turning around and beginning to descend, she was startled to find that a horse and rider had approached, silently ambling toward her up the hill. Ready to slip past them, she turned to smile a friendly greeting up to the passing rider but suddenly found herself frozen.
It was no stranger that mounted the horse beyond her. Eyes wide, lips parted in shock, she could only stare as none other than John Willoughby climbed down from his horse, smiling broadly as he came towards her.
Christopher had awoken to find that he was quite alone, and with a lengthy sigh he forced himself out of bed. He could not help his disappointment at discovering Marianne already up and gone, but he knew full and well she would return soon enough. He could guess where she had gone; on a walk, through the gardens and over the hills, as she often did. His valet attended him, and within a few minutes Christopher was descending the stairs, eager to enjoy breakfast with his wife, as per their usual morning custom.
So it was that his disappointment grew when he did not find Marianne waiting to join him for breakfast. With a perplexed frown, he forced himself to take up his waiting newspaper, perusing its contents blindly. When Harrison entered the room, Christopher set down the paper with a flourish, turning in his chair to face the old butler.
"Harrison, good morning," he greeted solemnly. "Have you seen Mrs. Brandon about?"
"Mrs. Brandon left for a walk nearly an hour ago, sir," was the crisp reply as Harrison took the paper away that Christopher handed to him.
"If you please, sir," Harrison spoke again, interrupting his master's straying thoughts. "I do not wish to alarm you, but I was informed a moment ago that one of the servants returning from the village on an errand saw a man on horseback riding across the property. He assured me it was probably nothing, but I thought it best to inform you."
The Colonel frowned, staring intently at Harrison. "Did he give you a description of the man?"
"Yes, sir," Harrison nodded. "A young gentleman, dark hair, dark horse. I believe the man's exact words were 'a sprightly, handsome man if I ever saw one.'"
Christopher started, rising violently from the chair. "And in what direction was this rider heading?"
"Why, I believe across the hills, sir. I assumed he was leaving the property entirely."
"Have one of the footmen saddle Leopold immediately," Christopher ordered in a brisk, dark voice before striding from the room. Realization dawned on the old butler as he located a footman and conveyed the Colonel's command. If the stranger was riding for the hills, he would likely cross paths with Mrs. Brandon. Berating himself for not thinking of such a thing earlier, he was harsher with the footman than was necessary, ordering him to gather a few men to join Colonel Brandon.
For his part, the next brief few minutes were utter agony for Christopher. He ran for the stables, ignoring the startled looks of servants he rushed past. His thoughts were only for Marianne; perhaps he was behaving irrationally, but his heart and mind worked together to warn him that something was amiss. The description relayed by Harrison matched a certain figure of his past impeccably, and Christopher would be damned before he let John Willoughby anywhere near his wife ever again.
His horse was swiftly prepared for him. He swung onto the beast's back and prepared to gallop away, but he was stopped by McTavish, one of the footmen in his employ. "Colonel Brandon, we're riding with you," the young Irishman called, riding up beside him on a dark chestnut horse. Four other footmen were saddling horses with great haste, but Christopher could not bear to wait for them.
"I shall ride over the hills to the east of the gardens," he called over his shoulder, biting out a command to his horse and riding away with a prayer in his heart. Dear God, let her be safe. Let this all be the irrational behavior of an old man concerned for the woman he loves. God in Heaven, just let me find her.