Chapter Seventeen
Hertfordshire
At the sound of an approaching carriage, Elinor looked up from the letter she had read three times already, and let it slip through her fingers as she raised both hands to her face to brush away her tears.
She recognized Mr. Bingley’s carriage, for he and his friends had called nearly every day for the past fortnight.
Lady Rebecca happened to look up as her brother helped her out of the carriage; she perceived Elinor and waved, and Elinor put aside the blanket she had wrapped about herself to go greet the visitors. She did not know who else might do so, for Longbourn had been in uproar all morning.
The noise of the house struck her as soon as she left the room she shared with her cousin.
Intermittent and inexplicable thumps, rumbles, and squeals came from the attic, where Margaret and Julia had invented a game they called Barbarians.
Elinor passed the room where Kitty and Lydia were still squabbling over the invitation extended only to the younger sister, who hoped soon to join her friend Mrs. Forster in Hampshire.
Elinor moved quietly past her Aunt Fanny’s room, shaking her head as her aunt lamented the state of her nerves to the kindly old housekeeper, Mrs. Hill.
The last room before the stairs belonged to her mother, and Marianne was also within.
Elinor tapped lightly on the door before opening it just enough to peek her head in.
Marianne sat beside her mother on the bed, the two embracing as they wept.
Mrs. Dashwood looked up and extended a hand to Elinor, who was perhaps in greater need of consolation than anybody.
But Elinor only shook her head. “Mr. Bingley is here with Lady Rebecca and the colonel. I am going to ring for tea in the front parlor. Will you not come down and greet your friend, Marianne?”
Mrs. Dashwood urged Marianne to go down with Elinor, fussing over their tear-streaked faces before assuring them she would join them shortly. Marianne paused in front of a mirror in the hall to fret over her appearance, and then she frowned at Elinor. “We look afright!”
Elinor sucked in a sharp breath, but hastened to receive their guests nonetheless.
She may not look well, but she could certainly behave well, which was almost as good.
She put on a friendly smile as she and her sister reached the vestibule, where Mr. Bennet had come out of his book room to discompose Mr. Bingley with a few sardonic japes, as had become his custom whenever their neighbors called.
“Well, here are a few of my womenfolk who are rational enough to receive you; I can hear Mary in the parlor already, playing such mournful tunes one might think a great tragedy has befallen the house. We are not as diverting as all that, but you young people may think otherwise.” Mr. Bennet gave his nieces a playful wink before retreating back to his refuge.
Marianne’s morose demeanor was instantly eased as she led Lady Rebecca into the sunny front room of the house, and Elinor gestured for the gentlemen to follow.
They often visited Longbourn after paying other calls about the area, in Mr. Bingley’s quest to regain the goodwill of the neighborhood.
He was always eager to report his success in mending fences – sometimes both literally as well as figuratively – as he resolved border disputes and other estate matters with the assistance of his friends.
Lady Rebecca had been encouraging civility between Marianne and Mr. Bingley since the incident at the Twelfth Night ball, and the three fell into easy conversation together. This left Elinor alone with the colonel at the other end of the room.
Colonel Fitzwilliam studied her curiously. “Are you well, Miss Dashwood?”
“Yes. I am sure all I require is… some tea.”
He nodded, his brow set in a skeptical but cheerful lilt. “Excellent. I should be very glad to be mistaken in supposing you and your sister have been weeping – particularly when I had hoped to share good news.”
“Oh?”
“I have resigned my commission. I shall remain with the militia until my replacement arrives, and afterward I intend to be as idle and irksome a guest at Netherfield as my sister.”
Elinor had not the chance to inquire after the change of his circumstances, for across the room Lady Rebecca cried out in shock, taking Marianne’s hand in hers. “That is quite shocking! Outrageous!”
Again Elinor attempted to give voice to some question, but the colonel shook his head at her. “Forgive me, Miss Dashwood, but I must claim the greater share of curiosity at such a moment. What can your sister be telling mine, to inspire such outrage?”
The morning post had brought such news that it might be one of several complaints that had sent the ladies of the manor into such mayhem.
In addition to Lydia’s letter from Mrs. Forster, there was one from Jane for Elinor and Marianne, and one for their mother full of Mrs. Jennings’s gossip.
That good lady had not the same discernment as Jane in gently relaying that which might cause distress; her style of information was crafted to inflame every passionate feeling that Marianne and Mrs. Dashwood were prone to expressing so freely, and which Elinor could only repress for private consideration.
“We have received news from London; our friend Mrs. Jennings and our cousins there have crossed paths with my half-brother John Dashwood and his wife, as well as her relations.”
“I see. It has been my understanding that you all are not especially fond of them.”
Elinor could make no answer. She was grateful that tea was served, affording her some distraction from his prescient questioning.
But when everyone had been served, the colonel resumed his probing gaze.
“You need not have received us, if you and your sister are truly so affected by whatever calamitous news you refuse to share with me.” With a roguish grin he added, “Rebecca will surely repeat to me whatever Miss Marianne has revealed, though I daresay your recitation of events would be eminently more rational.”
“You are very like your sister, in your employment of flattery to gain information,” Elinor replied, attempting a smile.
When she could not match his levity, the colonel’s demeanor turned as serious as her own.
“I have a greater respect for your privacy, I assure you. If you prefer not to confide in me, I shall settle upon some other subject that will amuse us better. Bingley wishes to host a card party; will that not delight your family?”
The mention of cards sent a pang of despair through Elinor’s chest, and she bit back a sob, but could not prevent a few tears from spilling down her cheeks. Colonel Fitzwilliam offered her his handkerchief and positioned himself to afford her a modicum of privacy from their companions.
Elinor dabbed her eyes with his handkerchief and was struck by the recollection of what comfort he had given her at Netherfield.
“I may require your testimony, sir; my mother and sister are so passionate in their own high emotions that they think me devoid of every proper feeling. You have now twice witnessed evidence to the contrary. But I am not often so overcome when I am distressed.”
The colonel pushed her cup of tea toward her at the same moment that she reached for it, and his hand brushed over hers, lingering for a moment too long.
“I had thought that you rather enjoyed yourself, when last you were at Netherfield, despite the provocation at dinner. But if the prospect of another entertainment there makes you weep, you may certainly decline the invitation.”
Elinor smiled at the twinkle in his eyes before taking a sip of her tea.
She savored the rich and pleasant flavor of it, one of her favorite comforts.
She could nearly taste the special blend their beloved housekeeper Mrs. Watson made at Norland, and then a tear rolled down her face and splashed into the teacup.
She gave a heavy sigh. “I suppose you will hear of it from your sister, for Marianne’s sense of discretion is very different than my own, but I must beg you would allow it to spread no further.
My half-brother has gambled away his estate, Norland, where we resided until recently.
Marianne and our mother have taken the news very hard.
It pains me, too, though I doubt we would have ever visited again, for we have never been on intimate terms with John and Fanny.
I suppose I am only very sorry for them, that they should lose their home so soon after the death of their son Henry. ”
The colonel gazed at her with inscrutable solemnity.
“I did not know they lost a child – that is, you have spoken very little of them. I have heard from my sister, and yours, and even your mother – from everybody except yourself – that John Dashwood and his wife were far from kind to you after the death of your father. I wonder if they deserve your pity.”
“Even so, I do grieve for them. Beyond that, I suppose we are all very sorry that Norland should fall into the hands of some swindling gambler. Mamma and Marianne are convinced that nobody could appreciate the beauty of Norland Park as they do, and I find myself thinking the same.”
The colonel looked pained. “Does it not anger you, then, that your half-brother could be so reckless? What would possess him to gamble, or go to London at all, when in mourning for his child?”
“I hardly know; I never heard of him having such habits before. I daresay his anguish was so great that he was not at all himself. He must have been out of his mind with sorrow, and such a person who would take advantage of his vulnerable state shall now be master of Norland. It is a terrible shame to think of it.”
“Perhaps that is not the case at all. Could it not be possible that the man who now holds the deed to Norland shall cherish it more than the man who would recklessly gamble it away?”