"A moment's peace, Elinor," Marianne spoke softly before she turned her footsteps toward the expansive gardens of Cleveland.
They both deserve more than a moment, thought Colonel Brandon as he watched Elinor Dashwood's younger sister move away from the cacophony of sound that spilled forth from Charlotte Palmer. Having spent the better part of the day riding from London alongside the Palmers' carriage, he was amazed at Charlotte's stamina in maintaining a nearly one-sided conversation for so many hours. Even the noise of the carriage and his own mount had not impeded him from following her rambling speech. He marveled at Mr. Palmer's ability to ignore her while also correcting her exaggerations and conjectures from behind his newspaper. Brandon shared a knowing half-smile with Elinor and cast an uneasy look on the gathering clouds before going inside.
In short order, two things became apparent: Marianne had not remained within sight of the house, and a thunderstorm was gaining strength as it neared. When the first hint of raindrops trailed down the windows where Elinor had been keeping watch, she pressed baby Thomas into his mother's arms, and went in search of the colonel. Her distress was obvious to Brandon as she paused in the doorway of the billiards room.
"Miss Dashwood?" Brandon asked before Palmer could greet her.
"Marianne is still outside, and the rain is nearly upon us. If she should be caught in the storm. . ." Elinor paused, rather than voice her fears for her sister's wellbeing.
"I will find her," Brandon promised as he put down his drink and slipped his arms into the jacket he had discarded during his game with Mr. Palmer. He strode out the front door without waiting for his hat or overcoat. Colonel Brandon forced himself to walk a circle around the grounds near the house while intermittent raindrops fell and thunder rumbled nearby. Then, he checked inside the conservatory and stables before he acknowledged that Marianne must have set off for the hill overlooking Combe Magna that Palmer's wife had so carelessly mentioned (and described in detail).
Foolish girl; foolish broken-hearted girl. And what a fool am I for pursuing her. Don't think that this jaunt in the rain is going to gain you favor in her eyes, old man, Brandon mused to himself as he set a quick pace up the long hill beside Cleveland. The downpour began in earnest after he crossed from the formal garden into the pasture land. The wind swirled about him and occasional lightning flashed, followed by long peals of thunder. He swiped the rain away from his eyes and looked about him as he continued his climb.
Some rescue this will be when I reach her. No hat, neither coat nor a blanket. I should have guessed she wouldn't stop until she laid eyes on that scoundrel's house. Well, let this be the beginning of her healing and not her undoing. I would take her there myself and set the place afire if I thought it might lessen her regrets and ease her pain. Hmm, steady now, Colonel, arson is not the solution no matter how much that rat deserves to be punished. Brandon shook his head at himself and took a deep breath as he crested the hill. There, in the distance across the valley stood Combe Magna, looking desolate in its unoccupied state. Farther to his right and partway down the hill, Brandon caught a glimpse of fabric fluttering on the ground beside a small copse of trees. He wiped his eyes and moved nearer, until he could make out the even more desolate figure of Marianne Dashwood sitting there, her feet out to one side and her arms braced in front of her.
"Marianne!" Brandon called out to her, but she didn't respond. He sidestepped down the hill with haste, calling her name once more, but she didn't look in his direction. Perhaps she couldn't hear him through the storm? When he reached her, he dropped to his knees in front of her, and put his hands on her shoulders to draw her attention to him.
"Marianne, are you hurt? Did you fall?" Brandon asked and looked her over for signs of injury. She was already soaked through from the rain, her skin was cold to his touch, and though she met his gaze, her red-rimmed eyes were full of confusion and exhaustion. After a moment, she answered by shaking her head and a long sniffle. Her blue eyes focused on his hazel eyes with recognition and she spoke his name, "Brandon?" disbelieving that he was kneeling there before her.
"Yes, it's me, your friend Brandon," he affirmed, "No fall, just falling apart, then?" Brandon questioned in a softer tone, as he instinctively rubbed his hands along her arms attempting to restore some warmth. Marianne's head dropped forward as she began to sob with a force that caused her whole body to shudder. Brandon pulled her to his chest, holding her close to console her. By now, the thunder had lessened while the bone-chilling drizzle surrounded them.
"Marianne, we can't stay here," he said and lifted her chin to regain her attention. "Allow one lovesick fool to help another? We must get you out of the rain." Her crying had calmed, but she was becoming listless, and he feared she would soon lose consciousness. Colonel Brandon balanced Marianne in his arms, then he stood and began his slow and steady march back to Cleveland. Marianne's eyelids drooped and she curled into his chest as he carried her. Though he had served mostly in tropical climates, his military training reminded him that he should keep her awake since she was suffering from exposure. He purposely jostled her a bit, and began speaking to her, trying to engage her senses. Marianne's fingers found purchase along the edges of Brandon's waistcoat, and then slipped inside it, seeking warmth between the layers of his clothing. Her icy touch near his heart caused him to shiver for more than one reason.
"Marianne, please stay awake. Look ahead with me so that we don't tumble down this hill." Brandon continued speaking to her, paying little attention to his rambling words, his focus on traversing the slick and muddy terrain.
"You won't believe me now, but you will get through this, this heartbreak. You are strong, vibrant, talented, and you deserve a man who will respect that and love you for it." Brandon's cheek brushed her forehead when he adjusted his hold on her, and he could feel that while the rest of her was chilled, she had the beginnings of a fever. He steadied his anxiety over her condition with a deep breath and pressed onward to the hedge that bordered the grounds. Her head leaned heavily against his chest, and her breaths were shallow. Her silence was more disturbing than the tears had been.
"I doubt you'll remember all this, but perhaps I will be brave enough to tell you again, some clear day when we can sit in the sunshine and enjoy its warmth. Hold on, my dear, we're nearly there," Brandon quickened his pace across the level terrain of the garden and crossed toward the closest door at the end of the house. He managed to push it open and moved into the welcome shelter from the wind and rain with Marianne still cradled against him. Then, they were met in the hall by Elinor and the Palmers. He deposited his precious cargo on the floor with a sigh and said, "She's not hurt – but we must get her warm."
Palmer gathered Marianne into his arms and walked toward the bed chambers, followed by Elinor and his shrieking wife. Marianne looked back at Brandon for a moment, but had no strength to speak as they moved away from him. Her expression was a mix of longing and sorrow that pierced Brandon's battered heart and reflected his own turmoil regarding his adoration for a woman so many years younger than himself. Brandon stood with his shoulders slumped and chest heaving as his body recovered from his efforts to bring her to safety. Rainwater dripped off him and collected into puddles on the floor. He winced as he lifted his hand to push his wet hair off his face. The usual 'rainy day' ache in his left shoulder from an old battle wound had turned to insistent throbbing and he wondered if he would be able to lift his arm on the morrow. He watched until Marianne disappeared around the corner at the far end of the hallway, and then he sent up a silent prayer: Dear God, let her live.