‘Well, then!’ said Mrs Jennings. ‘A fine catch, by the sound of it.’

‘He is at that. A pleasant, good-humoured gentleman, with the nicest little black bitch of a pointer I ever saw, though the ladies could not tell me if she was out with him today.’

‘Never mind about his pointer. Tell me more about him,’ said Mrs Jennings. ‘Is he young, old, handsome, rich?’

‘Young and handsome, certainly, and a fine dancer into the bargain. I remember last Christmas, at a little hop at the Park, he danced from eight o’clock till four, without once sitting down.’

‘That is something in his favour, for I’ll wager Miss Marianne likes to dance. And does he have a house here?’

‘As to that, no,’ Sir John admitted.

‘Then what is he doing here?’

‘He is staying with Mrs Smith.’

‘Mrs Smith? The lady at Allenham Court?’ asked Mary.

‘He is some kind of relation, her heir by all accounts,’ said Sir John.

‘Her heir,’ said Mrs Jennings, impressed. ‘So he will inherit Allenham? ’

‘He will indeed, and a tidy sum besides. And that is not all,’ said Sir John. ‘He has a pretty little estate of his own in Somersetshire.’

‘Then he is very well worth catching,’ said Mrs Jennings. ‘I would like to see her well settled. You will have to look sharp, Colonel, else you will lose her!’

‘I put in a good word for Brandon, never fear,’ said Sir John, looking at me. ‘Told her you would be jealous if she did not take care. I teased her about setting her cap at you. “That is an expression which I particularly dislike,” she said!’

He laughed uproariously and I imagined Miss Marianne’s pained expression at his coarseness.

Mrs Jennings joined him, slapping her knees as she rocked back and forth.

Gradually they sobered.

‘I promised to ride over to Allenham and see Willoughby tomorrow, and invite him to dinner on Friday,’ said Sir John.

‘You had better look lively, then, Colonel, if you want her. You had better speak on Thursday!’ Mrs Jennings said.

I took no notice of her, but I could not help feeling an interest in Willoughby, all the same.



Friday 23 September

We were a small party at dinner, just ourselves, the Dashwoods and Willoughby.

He was as young and handsome as Sir John had said, but although he was charming, lively and amusing, being fond of singing and dancing, and an expert in flirtation besides, I thought little of him for I had met his kind before. I knew that he would also be shallow and selfish, caring nothing for anyone’s feelings but his own. A not uncommon type: adept at making friends but not at keeping them, easily distracted and unreliable.

Miss Marianne was, however, attracted to him, for he was, at first glance, very desirable. They spent the evening talking together with great animation. She had neither shyness nor reserve and she spoke about her thoughts and feelings with such rapturous delight that it was small wonder that he agreed with her on everything, or, if he disagreed, he did so only for the pleasure of letting her talk him round. Who would not have agreed with so much beauty?

She had only to mention a book and it was a favourite of his; or to say, rapturously, that Mozart was divine, in order to have him say that Mozart was the only composer who deserved the title of genius; or to speak slightingly of second marriages to find out that he, too, thought that second attachments were impossible.

I could not agree with her on the latter, and I was surprised to find that my feelings on the subject had changed, because, for a long time, I thought the same. But I am beginning to think that second attachments, happy second attachments, might be possible: Miss Marianne is the child of a second marriage, and her mother has nothing but good to say of her experiences.



Saturday 24 September

I cannot decide if I am grateful to Willoughby for making Miss Marianne happy or if I am jealous of him; though to be jealous of him seems absurd, when he is so much younger than I am, and when there is nothing of substance about him, and when, indeed, I am not courting Miss Marianne. He sings, he dances, he charms — because he can do nothing else. As I watched him talking to her this evening, I found myself wondering if, when the first flush of excitement has passed, he will be enough for Miss Marianne, for she is intelligent and she feels things deeply, whereas he is all surface, with nothing underneath.



Monday 26 September

Miss Marianne again spent the evening talking to Willoughby, to the exclusion of everyone else. I found myself in conversation with her sister, and before long we were talking about my experiences in the Indies.

‘I have always wanted to travel,’ she said, ‘but I have not had the opportunity to do so. Was it very different there?’

‘It could scarcely be more different,’ I said, and I proceeded to tell her all about the heat and the mosquitoes, a little about the political situation and a great deal about the bazaars, with their fine silks and jewellery.

‘And are the animals as strange as I have heard?’

Encouraged by her interest, I told her about elephants and tigers, and she listened with attention, asking sensible questions.

As we spoke, I thought of the difference between the two sisters. Miss Dashwood was quiet and conventional, with a great fund of common sense, whilst Miss Marianne was open and lively, with a spirit that had reawakened my own. I had forgotten how good it felt to be fully alive, to be stimulated by the world around me instead of being half-dead to it. I glanced again at Miss Marianne and I thought, It is Marianne who has brought me back to life.

After dinner, Mrs Jennings said, ‘I hear you are a good dancer, Mr Willoughby.’

‘As to that, I cannot say, but I certainly enjoy dancing.’

‘As do I,’ said Miss Marianne.

‘Then we must have a ball. Sir John! What do you say? We must give the young people an opportunity to dance.’

‘A splendid notion,’ said he, eager, as always, for company and amusement.

‘Oh, yes, an excellent idea!’ said Miss Marianne.

‘We will have it next week. Nothing grand, just fifteen or twenty couples, but mind, Willoughby, I have told the ladies how you danced until the early hours the last time I saw you, and you must not let me down.’

‘I believe I can safely undertake to do the same, if Miss Marianne will honour me by partnering me,’ he said.

She readily agreed, and Mrs Jennings said, ‘You must claim a dance, too, Colonel, and you had better do it now, before there are no dances left.’

I asked Miss Marianne for a dance and she gave it to me, and then I asked her sister, too, whilst Miss Marianne returned to her conversation with Willoughby.

But next week when I dance with her I will have her to myself, and I find I am looking forward to it.



Wednesday 28 September

‘A fine time we are going to have of it, Brandon. We shall be twenty couples,’ said Sir John this evening, rubbing his hands in glee as he waited for the first of his guests to arrive.

‘There is nothing better than a ball,’ said Mrs Jennings. ‘You mark my words, Colonel, there’ll be plenty of young ladies for you here. Willoughby can’t take them all!’

The guests began to arrive. The Dashwoods were first, and I could not help my eyes going to Miss Marianne, for her vitality lit up the room. She turned her head this way and that, and I knew she was looking for Willoughby.

The music began and I led Miss Dashwood onto the floor. When our dance was over, I danced with Miss Carey and then it was time for me to claim Miss Marianne. She was silent and I did not start a conversation, for I was content to watch her. She took delight in the music and her step was graceful and elegant.

After dancing with me she partnered Willoughby again. She had already danced with him twice, and I saw her sister looking anxious because if anyone noticed that she was dancing with him for a third time, it would arouse comment.

‘No one else will notice,’ I said to Miss Dashwood reassuringly.

‘But you did,’ she remarked.

‘Ah, yes,’ I admitted, for I could not deny it. ‘But that is because ...’ She looked at me curiously and I said quickly, ‘I happened to notice.’

Only when I had spoken did I realize how lame the conclusion had been.

I saw a thoughtfulness spring into her eye, and I thought, I must be more careful. I must not give her the impression that I am interested in her sister.

But as I thought it, I realized that I was interested in Miss Marianne, and not just as a friend and neighbour of Sir John’s. I was interested in her as a young woman.



Thursday 20 October

Our round of pleasure continues. Today we had a party on the water. Marianne and Willoughby contrived to be alone together in their boat, and everyone had grown so used to seeing them together that their behaviour did not occasion comment. I found myself wondering how long it would take her to see that he was all charm and nothing else.

‘This is what I like,’ said Sir John, claiming my attention as we returned to the shore. ‘To be out in the open with friends. We must do it again next week, as long as the weather holds.’

‘Oh, yes,’ said Marianne eagerly. ‘I am sure it will. Did you ever see such an autumn?’

She looked around her ecstatically, taking in the blue sky, and against it the russets, browns and golds that shone in the sunshine as the trees put forth their autumn colours. And indeed it was a lovely sight, for the scene was reflected in the water, doubling its beauty and making it glow.

‘Never,’ said Willoughby.

‘Full many a glorious morning have I seen


Flatter the mountain tops with sovereign eye


Kissing with golden face the meadows green


Gilding pale streams with heavenly alchemy.

‘But never a morning as glorious as this one.’

‘La! Listen to them!’ cried Mrs Jennings.

‘It is Shakespeare,’ said Miss Marianne.

‘Ay, I dare say it is,’ replied Mrs Jennings, ‘and very pretty it is, too, with all its flatterings and kissings. I never knew a beau for so much poetry!’

I turned my attention to him and I wondered if I had been mistaken in him. Had I allowed my wishes to colour my judgement? Had I seen in him a shallow wastrel because that was what I wanted to see? Sir John, Mrs Jennings, the Dashwoods, all saw a charming, lively young man who was a good match for Miss Marianne.

Doubts assailed me. But they were soon dispelled. He would grow cold, I was sure of it. His kind could not settle for long, nor even remain with one set of people, because, having used up their scanty store of conversation, they had to move on in order to have something to say to someone else.

Friday 21 October

Another ball.

As I was sitting out beside Miss Dashwood, Mrs Jennings came over to us and told us that Mrs Carey was about to marry again, having been a widow for five years. Then she left us to go and share the news with Miss Marianne.

‘Though what she will make of it I cannot imagine,’ I said to Miss Dashwood as Mrs Jennings hurried away. ‘I remember her saying that she does not believe in second attachments.’

‘Her opinions are all romantic,’ she agreed. ‘But they must inevitably change, becoming settled on the reasonable basis of common sense and observation before long.’

I could not help my thoughts returning to Eliza at the words, for she had been forced to abandon her romantic opinions on her marriage. But alas! Common sense and observation had led her on to a dangerous path, for seeing other people embark on affairs, she had done so herself, to disastrous effect.

Without realizing it, I spoke my thoughts aloud, saying nothing of Eliza, but remarking that when the romantic refinements of a young mind were forced to change too rapidly, they were frequently succeeded by opinions which were all too common and too dangerous.

She looked at me strangely, and feeling some explanation was necessary, I said, ‘I speak from experience. I once knew a lady who in temper and mind greatly resembled your sister, who thought and judged like her, but who from an enforced change — from a series of unfortunate circumstances ...’

I stopped, for I could not say more without telling her the whole, and indeed, I had already said too much, for I saw from her expression of sympathy that she had guessed something of my past.