Chapter Two #2
Elinor stared at the rug, her mind awhirl with things she wished to say to him, questions she wished to ask. “Why were you afraid?”
“I feared you would shame me for flirting with you when my honor is engaged elsewhere, and that you are too good to wish to be my choice.”
“I hope I am,” she blurted out, shifting away from him. “I cannot ask you to forsake her, however much I might have desired….”
“Then do not ask it of me. There is no need, for I have made my mind up already. I intend to break it off with her. Our last visit together taught me how ill-suited we are, and even before I met you, I had my doubts.”
“Then why did you not end it sooner?”
“Cowardice, I suppose, and a little moral reservation. Even now I cannot say if it is right, but it is what I must do.” Edward took her hand in his, his gaze beseeching.
“If I were to introduce you to my mother in London…. She would never approve of Lucy, but you are kind and intelligent, and I believe she would accept our union.”
“And if she did not? Would it remain a secret?” Elinor felt her stomach twist.
“Perhaps for a time….”
Elinor recoiled, struck by the sudden notion of Edward forming a lengthy engagement to her, only to meet another superior lady and forsake her. “You cannot have loved me if you did not trust me with the truth.”
“I did not wish to lose you, or to trouble you at a time when you were already melancholy. Elinor, must I beg you to end my torment?”
“I cannot. Only you can accomplish that. I will not enter any understanding with you while you are promised to another.” Elinor’s eyes began to fill with tears; she abruptly stood and excused herself.
She retreated to a small, unused parlor as she collected herself; she required several minutes to achieve some semblance of equanimity.
When she returned to the large set of parlors filled with revelers, she expected to find Edward dancing with Marianne or perhaps Margaret.
Instead, her sisters told her that Edward had already taken his leave.
Mrs. Jennings had offered the use of her carriage for his safe journey to London, and he made haste in accepting her kindness.
Elinor muddled through the rest of the evening, though she was relieved that all her relations were merry enough. Only Jane seemed dispirited, and Elinor spent considerable time in tranquil silence at Jane’s side.
Eventually Jane confided in her, revealing an uncharacteristic sense of resentment that troubled her.
“Mamma believes that if Mr. Bingley had known of my fortune, he would not have abandoned Netherfield – he would not have abandoned me. Perhaps I ought to wish for that, but I cannot. When I think of it, I am angry that Mr. Bingley did not care enough for me, simply as myself, to even bid us a proper farewell.”
Elinor found she shared her cousin’s disillusionment with the male sex, but she felt unequal to sharing her own woes.
She could not even bring herself to speak of it with Marianne that evening, and had no wish to speak of it the next day, for she was determined to have a happy Christmas with her relations.
They spent all of Christmas Day at Longbourn and dined there that evening, and for most of the day, Elinor managed to be perfectly content, exchanging gifts with her relations, singing Christmas carols, playing games, and eating more sweet pastries than Mrs. Jennings thought wise.
Marianne hovered near her sensing there was something to be told of her conversation with Edward, but Elinor indulged herself in delaying that conversation.
She instead dedicated herself to the ponderance she must give the matter before speaking of it, but not until after the merriment of the holiday.
***
The next day, the ladies went into the village, for Mrs. Bennet was determined that her girls should go to London, and that her two eldest should have several new gowns to wear in town.
Mrs. Gardiner continued to demur, and Marianne pitied the poor woman to be so perpetually harangued about the matter, yet she dearly wished for her cousins to go to London.
“Perhaps Mr. Bennet may be persuaded to take a house in Mayfair for a month or two,” Mrs. Bennet said as Lydia and Kitty tarried to admire a fine shawl in a shop window.
Elizabeth and Jane exchanged wary glances, looking ready to warn their mother about her excessive spending, but Mrs. Jennings gave a loud exclamation. “Colonel Brandon, it is you! Happy Christmas, sir!”
Marianne stifled a groan. Colonel Brandon crossed the thoroughfare and joined their group, though Elinor and Mary ducked into a bookshop and Mrs. Bennet had already led her two youngest daughters into the milliner’s.
At least she would not be nauseated by the sight of Lydia and Kitty fawning over him, as they would surely do, even a man of his advanced years.
Marianne did her best to be civil to Colonel Brandon.
Fortunately, Elizabeth was warm and gregarious in speaking of her delight at spending Christmas with the Dashwoods.
And then, the colonel was joined by a young lady about Lydia’s age, whose cloak might have concealed her round belly had she not rested a hand atop it.
“Allow me to present my ward, Miss Eliza Williams.” Colonel Brandon introduced the girl to Marianne and Elizabeth, as Jane had led Mrs. Jennings away at the first embarrassing insinuation that lady uttered.
Marianne could not stop herself from glancing at the girl’s stomach.
She was obviously with child. “My guardian is taking me to stay with his sister in York,” Miss Williams explained.
She fixed a wicked gaze on Marianne, as if assessing the woman her guardian admired, and finding her wanting.
“I have heard much of you, Miss Dashwood.”
“The highest praise, of course,” Colonel Brandon said with a nervous smile.
Miss Williams turned to Elizabeth with a smirk. “And I daresay you have heard the same of Colonel Brandon from Miss Dashwood?”
Elizabeth forced a smile. “I am already disposed to like anybody who is as fond of music as I hear the colonel is.”
He inclined his head. “Thank you, Miss Bennet. I am delighted that the Dashwood ladies have enjoyed a pleasant holiday. I look forward to seeing you in London soon.”
It was at this moment that Margaret ran up to join them. “It is hardly fair that Marianne can go to London to see Willoughby, and Elinor….”
But she was interrupted by Miss Williams, who cried out in alarm. “Willoughby! That is the other gentleman you hold in your thrall, Miss Dashwood? Oh dear – I was afraid to say, but….”
Colonel Brandon looked at his ward with alarm. “What is it?”
“I have refused to name the father, but I must! It is he! Willoughby!” Miss Williams gave Marianne an evil look before she swooned.
Colonel Brandon cried out in horror and Elizabeth ran off, calling for a doctor.
Marianne stood in frozen horror as the colonel helped his ward back to the carriage when she regained her senses.
He seemed to forget Marianne until looking back over his shoulder as he led Miss Williams away. “I will speak to you in London.”
Marianne nodded, feeling herself on the verge of falling over as she watched him lead away the girl who had just shattered her heart.
She wished to run after them, to demand to hear that she was mistaken, that she had imagined the sudden, shocking revelation, but she was rooted in place, feeling as if darkness was closing in on her.
She was going to perish of a broken heart right there in the thoroughfare.
Elizabeth returned to Marianne’s side, and Elinor stepped out of the bookshop with a solicitous look. “What has happened?”
“Willoughby is the father of her child,” Marianne gasped, feeling as if she would wretch.
“If she is to be believed,” Elizabeth said. “Do not distress yourself – you will find out the truth in London.”
But going to London suddenly lost all appeal. “No, it is all ruined! I hardly wish to go anymore.”
“Nor I, if I am honest,” Elinor muttered.
Marianne looked at her sister with horror. She had sensed aught was amiss. “But, Edward?”
Elinor pressed her lips into a taut line and shook her head. “I cannot bear to see him… and Lucy….”
The world seemed to be fracturing around her, and Marianne let out a wild snarl of despair. “I want to go home!”
Elinor nodded and waved over Jane and Mrs. Jennings. “Marianne and I are going to meet Mamma at Longbourn, but when the rest of you return, I shall have an interesting idea to put to you.”
“Oh, tell me at once,” Mrs. Jennings cried, clapping her hands.
Elinor smiled as she had not done in weeks. “Mrs. Jennings, could I tempt you to leave Marianne and I to nurse our broken hearts with our cousins at Longbourn, and take Jane and Lizzy to London instead?”