Chapter Nineteen #5
“I wish you would not be so hostile to poor Edward,” Elinor gently chided her. “I feel bad enough as it is, for how my regard for him has cooled.”
Marianne rolled her eyes. “I am sure he does not deserve your pity.”
“Pity is a sad way of putting,” Elinor replied, the guilt pricking at her.
“I do still esteem him, you know. He said yesterday that he came in response to Mamma’s letter.
He had not time to receive John’s invitation, for he was three days’ journey away.
He did try—it does him credit, you know, that he would honor his previous engagement before coming to Norland, and it is not his fault that by the time he arrived, I had… .”
“Already fallen in love with Edmund?” Marianne laughed merrily.
“Oh, Sister, I am so happy for you—but you will not convince me to feel sorry for Edward. As to his previous engagement—but wait!” Marianne squeezed Elinor’s hands in hers and let out a little squeal.
“You did not deny it! You do love Edmund, I knew it!”
“Marianne….” Elinor knew it was little use—she had no wish to deny it, and indeed she had grown very sure of her own feelings.
She had devoted more and more of her time to Edmund with each passing day, and no longer could she convince herself that it was only the great secret they shared that bound them together.
It was so much more, and so very exciting, but it was new and frightening, and could not possibly be adequately described with mere words.
Marianne was still grinning with all the pleasure of being right, and knowing that she had exerted just enough of her own energy to thoroughly take credit for it herself.
Elinor felt a surge of affection for her sister, who she knew was her greatest champion.
“No, I do not deny it,” Elinor said, watching Marianne’s sparkle with further delight.
Having explored and accepted her own feelings for Edmund, it felt wonderful now to share them, in her own shy way, and yet she still desired some discretion.
“I have no wish to flaunt it, though—I cannot think it right, for Edward’s sake.
I really must raise the courage to speak to him soon, to give some little hint that may soften the blow, if he is or ever was attached to me. ”
“You are far too generous,” Marianne said with a scowl. “If you only knew the truth, I am sure even you could not be so forgiving.”
“What do you mean? What truth?”
Marianne hesitated. “I was not sure if I should tell you—but as you have finally admitted you are in love with Edmund—ah, how happy that makes me—well, I suppose there can be no harm in telling you. Not too much, I hope.” Marianne closed her eyes and sighed.
“Edward is engaged—secretly engaged, and has been for quite some time.”
Elinor was too stunned to speak. She had hardly known what to expect, but certainly not this. “Are you quite sure?”
“I am,” Marianne said. “He was engaged to her even when first we met him.”
“Good God,” Elinor breathed. “But that explains so much—why he never declared himself, despite….”
“Despite raising your expectation! Are you not incensed, Elinor?”
“I hardly know—I am in shock.”
“What makes me angriest,” Marianne pressed on, as if determined to stoke some ire in Elinor, “I know he really came to care for you last summer. We all knew—it was in all his looks. And again when he arrived! But he was with her—his friends in Plymouth indeed! He was with her, and might have broken it off, for he still seems to want your attentions.”
Elinor was still reeling from this revelation. “Oh dear, what a mess. But surely he is too honorable to break off his engagement, whatever changes his feelings may have undergone. I ought to respect him for that, at least.”
“Respect him? I have seen the jealous looks he has given Edmund, when he has no right, no right at all! I have never thought very well of him—I am sure I only ever liked him for your sake—I quite detest him now!”
“But how came you to know all this?”
Marianne shifted guiltily. “I read the letter he was given yesterday at breakfast. He lied to us all about who it was from, so it serves him right, I daresay!”
“Marianne, that was very wrong of you!”
“I am not the least bit sorry for it, and you shall not scold me into any true remorse. Really, Elinor, I think there is something awfully shady about his coming to Norland—John seems to approve of it, as he never did before. Is it not strange?”
Elinor looked up at Edward, who even now was engrossed in what looked to be a very serious conversation with his sister. He caught her eye, and she looked away, the heavy realization dawning on her; she groaned and leaned back against the sofa. “Oh, no. Oh, no, no. It cannot be—he would not….”
“Elinor, what is it?”
She bit her lip to still its quivering; Elinor could not say anything more without betraying the whole awful truth, and she would not betray her promise to Edmund that she would keep it secret a while yet. “I cannot tell you. Forgive me, I am bound to silence.”
Marianne looked stricken. “But I have just told you a great secret!”
“And I am grateful to you, truly I am—you have eased the anxiety I felt at the thought of giving Edward any pain. But please, I beg you would not press me. I am sure it will not be a secret so much longer, but for now I must abide by my promise.” Indeed, Elinor was fairly certain that it would not be long before their great aunt Prudence made some mischief, but if Marianne was to learn the truth, she would instantly begin to abuse the guilty parties in the strongest possible language, and Elinor would spare their party the unpleasant scene that would then ensue.
Elinor began to feel unfit for company, even her sister’s, for she was entirely too overpowered by everything she was feeling.
The truth about John weighed on her, and though she had come to feel a greater regard for Edmund than she had ever felt for Edward, she was wounded to think that all of Edward’s unspoken affection for her, which she was certain she had not imagined last summer, had been a very wrong thing.
He had recommended himself to her under false pretenses, and with no way of knowing that it would not be such a disappointment to her in the end.
“I beg you would excuse me,” she said abruptly, and fled the room.
She managed to make it upstairs to the gallery before the tears came, but when they did, it was with an intensity she had never before experienced.
She was obliged to lean against the wall for support as her body wracked with sobs, and soon even this became too much, she sank down against the wall and collapsed into a miserable heap in the corner, weeping for she knew not how long.
She was discovered in such an attitude, and fell silent and still at the sound of footfalls in the corridor, trying to blend in to the darkness around her; relief washed over her when she heard Edmund call out.
“I am down here,” she sighed.
Edmund came closer, and offered his hand to help her to her feet. “What is the matter? Are you crying, my love?”
Elinor was utterly shattered, and yet how her heart swelled at the appellation! “Oh, Edmund,” she groaned, wiping at her face. “I cannot bear it! I wish Aunt Prudence would come out with the truth already.”
“I agree with you more than words can say,” Edmund replied, pressing her hand in his. “You said you think it will be soon.”
“Yes, I got that impression when we spoke a few days ago, but it cannot be soon enough. Everything is so fraught—everybody seems to feel the tension—I just want this whole ordeal to be over with. I cannot like keeping the secret from Marianne, especially now that she has told me about….” A sob overtook her, But she could not bring herself to speak of it.
Edmund drew her into a gentle embrace. “About what?”
“Edward is engaged,” she whispered.
He drew in a sharp breath, and pulled back just a little. “Marianne knows of it? But I have only just left them—it was only just settled.”
There was confusion in his voice, and Elinor felt just as perturbed. “Marianne read a note Edward received from… his fiancée.”
“There were notes exchanged between them?”
“Yes—forgive me, you said you just left them….”
“Just this moment. I walked in on them together—Father is with them now.”
Elinor shook her head, still not understanding, and still unable to quell the tears pouring down her face. “With who?”
“Edward and Julia.”
“Julia? Your sister?”
“Yes,” Edmund sighed, leaning his head against hers as he continued to hold her in a comforting pose. “That wretched cad is to be my brother. But I hope these tears are not for him.”
“No, not in that way—I only feel like such a fool for what I felt before. In truth it is rather a relief, for I had feared that I would be the one to cause him pain, in transferring my affections to another.” Elinor flinched and fell silent at what she had just confessed.
Edmund laughed and drew her closer, his hands moving up her back and into her hair. “Well that is certainly a relief,” he murmured. “In fact, it is the best news I have heard in quite some time—possibly ever.”
Elinor let herself lean into him, happiness washing over her after such dismay; she pushed every other thought aside to simply savor the feel of his fingers in her hair, and on her face.
In another moment their cheeks brushed together, and his lips found hers in the darkness.
He kissed her softly, his movements slow and deliberate as he held her against him, and Elinor had just begun to surrender to these sensations when he drew away.
“Forgive me,” he said. “I have no wish to do as he has done, to bestow such affection without intention.”
“I know, Edmund,” Elinor breathed, a smile spreading across her face as Edmund clasped her hands and dropped down to one knee….