Chapter Nineteen #4
“What?” Edmund shook his head in dismay.
“I cannot believe what I am hearing. I ought to have abided by my first resolution, and spoken to you no more, Father. Better that, than to hear such poison as this. Them help John? Surely you cannot really believe that, either of you, and you only say what will soothe your own conscience. It is over. Please, I implore you—leave it.”
“Edmund,” John begged him. “You are my blood.”
“If that meant anything to you, you would not ask me to abandon the woman I love to your machinations,” Edmund bellowed, pounding his fist on the desk.
John and their father’s reply was lost on him, for Edmund had stunned himself into silence after such a speech, and sat in a state of shock as he faced the realization that he had absolutely meant what he said.
He lifted his head to stare at his father and John.
“Do my words mean nothing to you, then? I love her,” he repeated, standing up so swiftly his chair tipped over.
“I will not stay a moment longer and discuss Elinor as if she were some pawn in a game you do not deserve to win.”
“Edmund, please,” John beseeched him.
Staggering backward, Edmund shook his head.
“I will listen to no more of this. Not tonight, and not again. But hear this, both of you. You are running out of time to manage this all quietly, which ought to be your first concern. Your wife is ill, John. You should have a care for her. You might at least manage to keep it all out of the papers, if you direct your efforts as you ought to. You will lose Norland, but you need not let it all explode, and it will. If you stay on this course of meddling and manipulating, I think you will both find there is more at stake here than a house.”
“I will not give up so long as there is a chance,” John replied, but Edmund had already turned his back and begun to move away.
He was stilled only by some noise from the adjoining room, and he held his hand up to silence his companions.
There was the sound again—first a man’s laughter, and then a woman’s—he drew nearer the door that connected the study to the library, and he could hear muffled voices.
A glance at his father told Edmund that he and John had heard it, too.
They came closer, and Edmund threw open the door to the library; he walked into the room, flanked by the last two men he could really wish to have at his side in a crisis, and there he discovered his sister Julia entangled with Edward Ferrars.
It was instantly evident what they had been up to, for Julia was not fast enough in flying off of her lover’s lap, and her hair and clothes were in a telling state of disarray. Mr. Ferrars was no better—he was obliged to grab a cushion and place it over his lap as he coughed nervously.
As his father sputtered in outrage, Edmund flew into a rage unlike anything he had ever felt before, and flew at the villain. He grabbed Edward Ferrars by the collar and lifted him up from the sofa with his left hand, while his right arm threw a punch that sent the cad staggering backward.
Julia screamed, but Sir Thomas took her by the arm and told her to keep quiet. John did very little, only asking, “What is this?”
“Exactly what it looks like, I daresay,” Edmund spat, straightening his waistcoat as he stalked away from Edward Ferrars, who clutched his bleeding lip. Edmund began to laugh derisively at his half-brother’s dismay. “Here is your savior, John! What say you now?”
John looked utterly crestfallen. “Edward, how could you? What about Elinor?”
“You leave her out of this, damn you,” Edmund spat.
Mr. Ferrars has the audacity to scoff at him. “Just what you would say!”
“Stop this!” Julia broke away from Sir Thomas and began to weep. “Oh, this is so very wrong!”
“I should say so,” Sir Thomas thundered.
Julia let out a sound of frustration. “You ruin everything!” She ran to Mr. Ferrars and clung to him, dabbing at the blood on his lip with a handkerchief.
“Something has certainly been ruined here tonight,” Sir Thomas said gravely.
Edmund could still only laugh. “But he has to marry her, Father. You know it, and I daresay even you cannot deny it, John.”
“We could hush it up,” John began to protest, but he did not even appear to believe his own words.
Sir Thomas shook his head. “Edmund is right, they must marry. It might be well enough for Julia, at least—as to the other matter, our attorneys must press it. Mr. Ferrars, I trust you intend to do the honorable thing.”
“Very honorable,” Edmund said bitterly.
“Stop it, Edmund,” Julia hissed.
Mr. Ferrars regarded them all in alarm. “I—I hardly know what is honorable any more….”
“Clearly,” Edmund quipped.
Mr. Ferrars stiffened, his expression growing suddenly quite wild as he took Julia’s hand in his. “Yes, I will marry her. I would be happy to do so at once.”
“Oh, Edward,” Julian crooned, throwing her arms around him. “I knew I could not be so drawn to you for nothing!”
“Silence, girl,” Sir Thomas hissed. “Have you no shame?”
“Shame? You must be joking,” she spat. “I really do not see that I have done anything so very bad—I am sure Maria and Mr. Crawford have gotten up to much worse. We all know Edmund and Elinor went off alone together the day the rest of us went to Worthing—and Maria and Mr. Crawford stayed behind, too, and nobody said anything! I know you were no diligent chaperone, Papa, for you are always hidden away with Cousin John!”
Sir Thomas went white as a sheet, and even Edmund was moved to anger at Julia’s outburst. “How dare you impugn Cousin Elinor like that. I am ashamed of you, Julia.”
“Well, what do I care for your good opinion,” she screeched. “I have been more ill-used in this family than anybody else, and I am glad I shall have to put up with it no longer.”
Mr. Ferrars made some gesture of comfort to quiet Julia, muttering reassurances.
Edmund shot him a withering glare. “Take your hands off her, would you? As her brother, I have some right to call you out—do not tempt me.”
“Edmund, please,” Julia cried. “Oh, how I hate you all!”
“Julia, sit down and be silent,” Sir Thomas said. “Not you, sir,” he added as Mr. Ferrars began to follow her.
Edmund could bear no more—he began to wish never to see any of his family again, at such a moment.
“I cannot be happy to call you my brother,” he said to Mr. Ferrars.
“Yet so it must be. But I need play no further part in this. I have endured enough for one evening and I must bid you all goodnight, and good luck,” he snarled.
He stormed off down the hallway, really wishing to seek comfort from Elinor, but he knew better than to show his face in the drawing room at such a moment. He stalked off to his room, only to be stilled by the sound of weeping in the gallery.
Elinor grew tense as she saw Edward approaching her, and breathed a sigh of relief as Marianne cut him off and came to sit at her side.
She had avoided Edward all day, her time more happily spent in Edmund’s company, but she knew she must face Edward soon.
She supposed she must owe him some explanation for her defection, even if their past affection had never been spoken of.
Marianne patted Elinor’s hand with her own. “We are very dull without our beaux, are we not? But how was Amberley? I had already gone up to dress when you got back, and today poor Mary was wanting some audience for her harp, or I would have ridden out with you and Edmund.”
“It was lovely,” Elinor sighed. “Perfect. Yesterday and today. Mr. Ambrose is an odd fellow, but I think he likes Edmund very much, and will recommend him to Lord Lathan.”
“Odd how? Surely the recommendation will not mean much if Mr. Ambrose is not respectable himself!”
“He is, only….” Elinor hesitated, and lowered her voice. “I got the impression he thinks very little of John. Indeed, I do not think John is much respected in the area.”
Marianne snorted with laughter. “Good,” she whispered.
Elinor cast a cautious gaze around the room; Edward still lingered nearby, staring at her.
Marianne perceived this, let out a huff of impatience, and then caught Elinor by the hand and led her to the adjoining music room.
They moved past Mary Crawford, and Marianne made a gentle sound to catch her attention.
“Mary, do cover us with music, I beg you.” With a twinkle of mischief in her eye, Mary nodded.
Louder, Marianne said, “Mary, you ought to play some music for dancing. Surely Fanny Price is not too tired from her journey for dancing! I see you are not, Cousin James!”
It took little encouragement for Fanny and James to stand up together, and Maria and Mr. Crawford soon followed suit.
Edward moved to follow them, but Marianne drew Elinor to the far side of the room and the sisters sat down on the sofa.
“Well,” Marianne said, leaning in to whisper.
“I hope he will not follow us here! I really long to hear all about your little trip to Amberley yesterday. Did you go to the ruins? Was it utterly romantic? Did Edmund make me another sketch?”
Elinor laughed gently, but could not speak before Edward had come into the music room; her heart lurched at the notion he might wish to dance with her, for she had not the spirit to decline, nor the wish to stand up with him—certainly she could not like for Edmund to join them and be pained by the sight of it.
She looked away, unable to give Edward any further consideration at such a time, for she would prefer to discuss happier things—to discuss her day with Edmund, in nearly as much detail as Marianne night desire. “Yes to all three,” she whispered.
Marianne perceived Edward’s proximity once more, and gave a huff of indignation, shooting him a very rude look. “I really wish he would leave us be, and let us speak in peace,” Marianne groaned. She clenched her jaw and fell stubbornly silent until Edward had moved away again.