Chapter Six #4
Elinor could not help herself. Her mother had intimated that Willoughby admitted himself to being on the verge of some declaration just before they had left Barton, owning that after espying Willoughby cut a lock of Marianne’s hair, it could be no great surprise.
For Marianne, Elinor’s hopes were greater than for herself.
Edward had never betrayed such intimacy as Willoughby demonstrated nearly daily with Marianne, after a nearly equal period of acquaintance.
This must be in part due to the widely different nature of their temperaments, for Willoughby was open and expressive where Edward was shy and soft-spoken.
But where Willoughby’s regard might be evident in a mere glance, Edward had often proved difficult to read.
That he regarded her highly was a certainty, but no more, for while he had sought her out often and eventually held lengthy conversations with her, he was equally disposed to spells of melancholy that hinted at some unspoken conundrum.
Elinor pushed away her thoughts of Edward, nudging Marianne to make some reply. Marianne rolled over, a wide smile spreading across her face. “Oh, Elinor!”
This was confirmation enough of what Elinor and her mother suspected. “Marianne, has Willoughby really asked you to marry him?”
“Not outright, but he has made such hints that there can be no doubt of our understanding each other’s hearts—thus it has been since the first hour of our acquaintance, I am sure.”
Marianne might wax poetic at length, but Elinor preferred to deal in facts. “But he has not proposed?”
“No, not properly—but really, Elinor, I think I know his mind well enough by now to know that he loves me as I love him. Indeed, if Cousin Maria had not interrupted us, I am sure he would have spoken. He held me in his arms, just like so….”
Marianne hugged Elinor close to demonstrate, and Elinor felt her cheeks flush at the thought of what her sister had described. “You should not tell me such things!”
“Whyever not? I am sure I should, so that when Edward comes, you will know how to act,” Marianne laughed. “If you did not hide your feelings, both of you, I am sure your felicity might equal mine.”
Elinor sat up, hunched in a ponderous pose.
Despite the tender affection between the two sisters, they could not have been more different.
Marianne was all emotion and exuberance, her fancy often exceeding her judgement—as evinced by her recent visit, unchaperoned, to see Allenham with Willoughby.
Elinor could not fathom acting in such a way—the very notion of it would never have entered her head.
She was all prudence and restraint, though she considered herself no more sensible and reserved than a great many girls of her age and situation.
There were times, of course, when she envied Marianne’s sensibilities, which would have been impossible for Elinor to replicate.
She was who she was, though at such a time a shadow of doubt clouded her usual steadiness.
She wondered what might have been, had she given Edward just a modicum more encouragement when they were at Norland together.
The logical side of her argued it would have led to nothing short of some intervention from Fanny, and yet some part of her wished to hope.
Marianne’s compulsion to fill the silence soon prevailed. She sat up, her knees leaning against Elinor’s as she took her sister’s hands. “I did not mean to be cruel, Elinor. I only wish you to be as happy as I am, and I am sure you shall, when we see Edward again.”
Elinor only shook her head. “Even if Edward does come to Norland—and I am not convinced he is the brother to whom Fanny was referring—their mother shall be present as well. Can you not imagine, dearest, how you might act if it was Lady Allen who was to come amongst us?”
“No differently at all,” Marianne cried. “Why should you think such a thing? She is to leave Willoughby her house, when she might have given it to any other distant relation. She must wish him to be happy in every other regard, as well.”
Though Elinor could hardly agree, she had no wish to dampen her sister’s rosy spirits. “Perhaps in his case you are correct, but where Edward is concerned, you must admit the circumstances to be quite different.”
Marianne grinned. “I suppose, for you have nearly admitted just now that your feelings for Edward are comparable to mine for Willoughby, and I shall take that as a victory!”
“That is not at all what I meant,” Elinor began to argue, but Marianne seemed to sense she had pressed too much, and now endeavored to laugh it away.
“Very well, as you like it! I shall leave you, for I am sure we must both be well rested for tomorrow. Only take care you wear your blue dress tomorrow, for it is Edward’s favorite color.”
Marianne fairly bounced out of the room, casting teasing glances over her shoulder as she went.
Elinor sat upon her bed for some time afterward, lost in her own private musings.
She had no wish to hope for herself, and really wished to turn her mind to Marianne’s joyful prospects, but just before bed she laid out her blue dress, and quickly extinguished the candle before she could change her mind.