Chapter Seventeen #4
Marianne grinned. “How glad I am to hear you say that, dear Elinor! Oh, I know you would rather keep your secrets, but of course I have guessed. Cousin Edmund is very fine, and while I do not believe in second attachments as a general rule, I approve so entirely—and he seems so attached to you—I am sure he is already more demonstrative than Edward ever was—take heart, Elinor! Really, shame on Edward for not coming amongst us sooner! Mamma wrote to him, you know, a week before our wretched brother ever thought of it. I am sure if he did come, I should give him a smack for making you so low. But is not Edmund in every way superior? Come, I know already that you think so, too.”
Elinor shook her head in some bemusement. “I am not ready to fairly sprint to the altar, as you are. But you need not imagine any further difference in our minds than that.”
Marianne laughed. “That is all you will say? But I ought to have expected it,” she replied with a mischievous twinkle in her eye. “No matter—I understand you, and I am so happy you see things as I do.”
Elinor held her sister’s hands. She had supposed already that Marianne favored Edmund, but to hear it spoken was still no small thing for her, and Marianne’s mode of expression was heartening as much for its maturity as for its sentiment.
She let out a little laugh, for it occurred to her that just as she had learned some of Marianne’s sensibilities, in her time with Edmund, Marianne’s good fortune had brought her a measure of Elinor’s sense.
“I have come to see what you have felt for your Willoughby, whom I shall be glad to call my brother. What you said to Edmund—that time alone does not determine intimacy—I had not understood you, when Willoughby came amongst us, but to hear it from Edmund has certainly made an impression on my heart.” She looked away, blushing at what was, for her, a bold admission.
“You need not admit to anything further,” Marianne said.
“It is in all your looks—and his—that Edmund shall soon make me a very fine brother, too, and I am determined to do everything in my power to bring it about in right and perfect timing. Ah, but how happy I am we came to Norland, I knew it would be thus! Dearest Norland, though we have had to go away, this wonderful place has still brought us so much joy. I shall be sorry indeed to leave it.”
Elinor wrung her hands, the happy recollections of her day with Edmund giving way to the knowledge that she concealed.
She might have the power of making Norland Marianne’s forever, if she chose it.
She knew not what was right, but she had given Edmund her word she would keep the secret.
“We had better go and dress for dinner,” she said.
“Do not suppose I cannot see what you are about—I have detained you long enough from Edmund,” Marianne chided her.
“Well, if he has not gone up to dress yet—I am sure I have not heard the gong—but I shall tell him my good news. Edmund is family already, and likely to be more so. I am sure he can keep a secret, and perhaps my engagement will put certain notions in his head that will please us all!”
Hand in hand, the sisters came out of the alcove, only to collide with a gentleman who had only just arrived. Elinor felt her heart sink as she looked up and locked eyes with Edward Ferrars.
If Elinor’s reaction to him was not bad enough, the shocking conversation Edward had had with his sister and mother was certainly enough to make him regret coming to Norland at all, and he sat through a very dismal dinner wondering how soon he might go away again.
John was in good cheer, and keen to give Edward all the credit of it. “Well, I am glad you are come, Brother, very glad indeed! But how quickly you acted upon my letter—I daresay you must have some particular reason for wishing to be amongst us.”
There was an awkward silence as Edward hesitated to reply.
Elinor froze, her eyes fixed on her plate, while on either side of her Marianne and Mr. Bertram regarded him with thinly veiled resentment.
“I am always happy to come amongst my family,” Edward finally replied.
“But pray, I cannot say I received any letter from you, Brother John—it was Mrs. Dashwood’s missive that motivated me.
Unfortunately I had a prior commitment with some friends in Plymouth; I thought it better to honor my engagement, and depart on the date originally planned. ”
He kicked himself internally at his poor choice of words, and all the folly of his stay in Plymouth, where nothing had disappointed him more than himself.
“I think you said you went to school in Plymouth,” Mrs. Dashwood said with civility. “I should not have written had I known I was calling you away from your old schoolmates. But I hope you enjoyed yourself.”
He had not, in fact, enjoyed himself; he had, in short, so thoroughly come to understand his own feelings and wishes as to make him desire never to set eyes on that place again.
His intentions, of devoting a greater share of his heart to a certain young lady there had been thrown over entirely when he realized what an impossible endeavor it was—that his affections had irrevocably transferred to the young woman across from him, who would not even meet his eye now.
And, like a coward, he had failed in his resolution to set the other young lady free, and free himself to act as he really wished to.
He had left Plymouth full of self-loathing, and his time at Norland now threatened to bring little improvement in such a condition.
He knew not what he replied to Mrs. Dashwood, or how he got through the rest of the meal.
In such situations of discomfort, Edward was inclined toward reticence, and not of the composed and commanding variety.
He grew rather dull at dinner, and spoke only to his brother Robert and Miss Julia Bertram.
John was eager that the gentlemen should not be long apart from the ladies after their meal, claiming the excuse of Fanny’s remaining upstairs.
The ladies were in good cheer, despite their want of a hostess; by all appearances Mrs. Rushworth was holding court in the drawing room when the gentlemen came in.
The great lady gave him a severe look as Edward moved that way; she leaned in to whisper something to Mrs. Dashwood, and Edward abruptly altered his course.
Robert intercepted him, and motioned for Edward to join him at the sideboard; he poured them each a drink.
“Well, Edward, what a fine joke, for you to turn up only after cultivating such suspense about your absence! Well done, well done—I am sure the ladies will be pining after you now. But I ought to be happy you stayed away, for I daresay I shall come away with quite a prize.”
Edward was in no humor for his brother’s banter. “I came after my previous engagement had ended.”
“As you like,” Robert smirked. “Well, take heart, Brother. John may wish to press his unfortunate sister at you, but our mother and sister will not like it. Though I have snapped up the finest lady here, I daresay you are not without options. Miss Julia has every charm and grace a young lady ought to—her fortune is nearly twenty thousand pounds,” Robert whispered.
“It is nearly enough to compensate for your getting everything from Mother—but she would not like to see it all wasted on Miss Dashwood. Miss Julia’s sister Maria, you know, might suit, for she is as prone to strange humors as you—and Miss Crawford is quite lively, and rich besides. ”
“We seek different merits, I am sure, in the opposite sex,” Edward replied with some discomfort. “Your Miss Julia seems lovely and amiable indeed, and that is all I should desire.”
Robert laughed. “Well now, do not think to steal her away from me, eh? I was there first, even if she was a little cross with me this morning. A man might look to his elder brother for advice, but I daresay you never had much luck with the ladies!”
Edward frowned at his brother’s ribbing, for Robert had hit nearer the mark than he might have thought. “I am sure it matters little—I have come to Norland to enjoy the company of my relations.”
“Then why the long face, Brother? Off with you—go enjoy it.”
Edward did attempt it, but to no avail. The pianoforte was opened, and Marianne entreated Miss Crawford to play a duet with her.
Edward moved to sit beside Elinor, but Mr. Bertram was there first, and Edward was obliged to sit at some remove.
He watched them together, sharing private looks and whispers, and he could only repent that he was too late.
All he had felt, all he had tried and failed to accomplish in Plymouth was for nothing and he was utterly wretched.
Near the end of the song, Miss Julia came to sit beside him.
“Mr. Ferrars,” said she. “How delighted I am that you have come amongst us, for I have heard nothing but good of you! And your brother repeated your kind praise of me—so I felt I must come and return the favor, for you looked so very glum all alone here. I hope you are not too tired from your journey.”
As Marianne and Miss Crawford finished their song, they were applied to for another.
Marianne loudly proclaimed that she would only play a tune suited for dancing, if the present company would oblige her, and themselves.
A quick glance told Edward he would not be fortunate enough to stand up with Elinor, and his sense of rejection, coupled with his brother’s needling from before, promoted Edward to some little mischief.
“I am not too tired to dance, Miss Julia, if you will stand up with me.”