She was astonished, and seemed at first stunned, but she soon recovered and thanked me warmly, saying that she was sure he would be grateful for it, and saying also that she was sure I would be pleased with him, for he was a man of great worth, with good principles and disposition.

‘I wonder, would you tell him about it? I know him so little I would not know how to speak to him. I would not wish him to feel under any obligation to me,’ I said.

‘I will undertake it with pleasure, if you are sure it is really your wish to give such an agreeable commission to another,’ she said.

‘It is. Perhaps you know where he is to be found?’

‘I believe he is still in town; fortunately I heard his address from Miss Steele.’

‘I only wish the living was better and the parsonage was larger,’ I said.

‘The smallness of the house, I cannot imagine any inconvenience to them, for it will be in proportion to their family and income.’

I was surprised to hear her speak of a family.

‘I fear I have given you an exaggerated idea of the worth of the living,’ I said. ‘This little rectory can do no more than make Mr Ferrars comfortable as a bachelor; it cannot enable him to marry.’

‘That will be for him to decide,’ she said.

‘Of course,’ I replied, though I still thought, privately, that it would be impossible.

I took my leave soon afterwards and returned to my lodgings in St James’s Street. I had not been there for very long when Ferrars was announced.

‘Brandon,’ he said, on entering the room, ‘I have just come from Miss Dashwood, and I must give you my thanks, my sincere thanks, for thinking of me and standing my friend.’

He did not seem particularly pleased, despite his words, and I wondered if it was because the living was such a poor one, but then his manner was explained when he said that he would not be able to take it up at once as it would be several months before he could be ordained.

‘As to that, there is no hurry. I will make arrangements to cover the period in between, and I hope to see you at Delaford Parsonage by Michaelmas.’

He thanked me again, and I said, ‘I hope you and Miss Lucy will be very happy.’

His manner was diffident, but he thanked me for my good wishes, and then went on his way.



Friday 17 March

‘So, Brandon, you have given Ferrars the living of Delaford, eh?’ said Sir John, when I called in on the Palmers this morning. ‘Capital, capital! He seems like a fine fellow. Audacious, too! Marrying Miss Lucy! Ay, she’s a sly puss! Never said a word about it, not though she stayed with us for months. Can’t say I wonder at it. Afraid of his mother, and right to be afraid, too. Cast him off without a penny! Can’t think why. Nothing wrong with Miss Lucy. No fortune, of course, but Ferrars had enough for two. Ah, well! It’s worked out well for us. Now we get to see both of you when we come to Delaford.’

‘We are going to Cleveland shortly, for the Easter holidays, ’ said Palmer. ‘Charlotte has had enough of town and wants to go home with the baby. Will you join us?’

‘Nothing would give me greater pleasure,’ I said, for it meant I would be with Marianne, and I was looking forward to seeing her recover her health and vigour.

‘The ladies will be taking two days on the road. It will be easier for Charlotte and the child that way. But we need not travel so slowly. I have some business to finish in town, and I propose to start out the day after my wife but arrive not many hours later.’

I said that this suited me, and it was agreed.

Monday 3 April

I seem to have spent the last few days being thanked for my small kindness, for this morning, when I called on Mrs Jennings to tell her that I would be going to Cleveland, I found Marianne alone, and as I hesitated by the door, she sprang up and took my hands.

‘Oh, I am glad to see you. I have been wanting to thank you for helping Edward ever since Elinor told me of it. You have been a true friend to him when those who should have been his friends, his own family, deserted him. But you are a man who knows the meaning of loyalty, as I am only too well aware. Will you not sit down? Mrs Jennings is visiting Charlotte, but she will be back directly.’

She waved a hand towards the sofa and I was pleased to see that her wrist was not so thin as formerly.

‘And so Edward is to live at Delaford,’ she said, as I sat down.

‘He is.’

A variety of emotions flitted across her face and then she said, with a sigh, ‘How difficult everything is! A few months ago, I would not have thought ...’ Her eyes left mine and wandered unseeingly around the room. Then they came to rest on a picture her sister had been painting. ‘But perhaps there is still some hope, if not for me, then ...’ Her eyes found mine again. ‘The living is not enough for him to marry on, I believe you said?’

I could not follow her thoughts, but I replied to her question, saying, ‘No, I do not see how it can sustain a family.’

‘How could it? With only two hundred a year, they will not be able to marry.’

‘I do not believe so, though Sir John seems to think they will manage. I dined with him at the Palmers last night. Mr Palmer was good enough to invite me to Cleveland.’

‘Ah, Cleveland,’ she said, her face falling.

‘You do not want to go? I thought you would be glad to leave town, with its unhappy memories.’

‘And so I am. And yet I was happy here, too. I cannot forget that when I arrived, I was full of hope. I sat by that window, I played that pianoforte, when I waited for him to call.’

‘But in the country you will be able to enjoy the wide-open spaces, taking country walks — ’

‘Do not tempt me with country walks, for it was on one such walk that I met him,’ she said in agitation.

‘The variety of scene will lift your spirits, I hope,’ I said.

‘It is too near ...’

I understood her, for Cleveland was in the same county as Willoughby’s seat.

‘You thought to go into Somersetshire in happier circumstances. ’

‘How well you understand me,’ she remarked, looking at me with gratitude. ‘You are the only one who does. Elinor tells me that we will not be near him there, but she does not understand that being in the same county will be torment to me. It is good of you to listen to me. I cannot burden Elinor any further, she has her own troubles, and Mrs Jennings is not someone I can confide in. But to have you here as my friend eases my mind more than I can say.’

‘I am only too happy to do anything I can to help you,’ I said sincerely.

‘I am glad you are coming with us to Cleveland.’

The simple sentence meant more to me than she could possibly know.

‘I ...’ I cleared my throat. ‘I am looking forward to it, too. You will be staying at Cleveland for a week, I understand?’

‘Yes. And then I can go home, to Barton, and to Mama.’ At that moment, Mrs Jennings entered the room and I told her that I was to join her in the country. She was pleased, and we all parted in the certainty of seeing each other again before very long.



Thursday 6 April

Palmer and I left London this morning and stopped at Reading. Tomorrow we will reach Cleveland.

Despite her protestations to the contrary, I hope that the change of scene will do Marianne good.



Friday 7 April

We arrived at Cleveland just as the light was beginning to fade, but as we turned into the drive, I could see that it was a spacious, modern-built house, situated on a sloping lawn. There was no park, but the pleasure-grounds seemed tolerably extensive, with an open shrubbery and closer wood walk. The drive wound round a plantation, past lawns dotted over with timber — a mixture of fir, mountain-ash and acacia, interspersed with tall Lombardy poplars — and took us to the front door.

We were soon inside. It was a tranquil scene. Mrs Jennings was sitting with her carpet-work, Marianne was playing the pianoforte, and Miss Dashwood was reading.

‘Oh, Mr Palmer, we thought you would never get here!’ said Charlotte. ‘We have held dinner back on purpose. You will like to dress first.’

‘The day a man needs to dress in his own home after spending all day in the saddle is not one I want to see. We will have it at once,’ he replied tersely.

‘Mr Palmer is always so droll!’ said Charlotte, nevertheless giving the order, so that before very long we were in the dining room.

‘How was your journey?’ asked Miss Dashwood.

‘Very good,’ I said.

‘It was barely tolerable,’ snorted Palmer. ‘Potholes all the way.’

‘We thought you might have found it difficult going in the rain,’ said Elinor.

‘We had no rain,’ I said.

‘No? It has been raining all morning here.’

‘But it has not prevented us having a high time,’ said Charlotte. ‘What do you think we have been doing, Mr Palmer? We have been showing baby to Mrs Harding.’

‘Ay, a finer child never drew breath, so Mrs Harding said, and she should know, for she has been housekeeper here for twenty years,’ said Mrs Jennings.

‘One child is much like another,’ said Palmer provokingly.

‘Why, Mr Palmer, how can you say so?’ exclaimed his wife and her mother.

‘There is every difference in the world between children, and if yours is not the most intelligent child I have come across in many a long day, then my name is not Jennings,’ finished that lady.

He only snorted, but when they are not by, he praises the infant fondly enough.

I was glad of a hot meal, and afterwards my eyes were drawn to Marianne as she sat at the pianoforte.

I saw Mrs Jennings watching me and I became aware that I was staring, and so I said to Miss Dashwood, ‘I have in mind some improvements which I mean to make to the parsonage at Delaford when I return. The house is capable of extending at the rear, and a new room might be built above the kitchen. The two front rooms could then be knocked into one, and, with some new decorations, I believe it may be habitable by the time Mr Ferrars has been ordained.’

She listened to my plans whilst carrying on with her needlework, and I tried to keep my eyes away from Marianne until it was time to retire.

Saturday 8 April

Rain kept us indoors today. Palmer and I whiled away the morning with billiards, for he has a fine billiard room, and this afternoon we joined the ladies. Mrs Jennings was sitting over her carpet-work and Charlotte was playing with her baby. Miss Dashwood was engaged in needlework and Marianne sat with a book.

‘She always finds her way to the library, wherever we stay,’ said Miss Dashwood.

When Marianne put aside her book, I engaged her in conversation and told her of my library at Delaford.

‘I hope you and your family will visit me there. You will be able to see your friends in the parsonage, and you may have free rein of my library. There are many books I am sure you would enjoy. Have you read Cowper?’

‘Oh, yes,’ she said enthusiastically. ‘But I have not been able to find all of his work.’

‘Then you have a treat awaiting you. And there are some plays I believe you will also enjoy.’

‘Your library is well stocked?’

‘With older volumes, yes, for my grandfather was very proud of the library, but with newer volumes, no. My father was not fond of books, and although I have been adding to it ever since I inherited, and have purchased some modern tomes, I still have some way to go before I can claim it is a fine library.’

‘Our library at Norland was also neglected,’ she said. ‘I used to dream of buying every new volume of poetry and filling the shelves with all my favourite works. Indeed, I thought that if I were to come into a fortune, I would like nothing better than to send for all the newest works from London.’

‘Then perhaps you will help me choose some books when you come and stay at Delaford with your mother and sisters.’

‘I would like that. And Edward, perhaps, might be able to use the library, too.’

‘Of course,’ I said, but mention of Edward seemed to have upset her, and she fell silent.

Sensing her mood, I agreed to Palmer’s suggestion that we should have a game of cards, and Marianne sought solace once more in her music.



Monday 10 April

The weather was again wet, and when I returned from the billiard room, I was alarmed to find that Marianne, who had gone outside after dinner, had not returned.