Thursday 4 May

I walked down to the parsonage this morning, and I saw that the works were proceeding as quickly as could be expected. Then I went to see Eliza. Knowing that Robert would be at Four Lanes End, I suggested a walk and I bent our steps in that direction. Sure enough, there he was, overseeing the work on the barn.

I introduced him to Eliza and he greeted her with respect. After some minutes talking to him about the barn, we went on our way, and his eyes followed us.

I returned to the mansion house at last and ate my dinner in solitary splendour.

I miss Marianne.



Friday 5 May

The wet weather reminded me that the path by the river needed raising so that it will not flood next year, and I gave instructions for the matter to be attended to.



Monday 15 May

I received a letter from Mrs Dashwood this morning. Marianne is growing in strength daily and is now well enough to be allowed outside when the weather is fine. She ended her letter by inviting me to stay, and I wrote back at once to accept.



Tuesday 16 May

I dressed slowly this morning, for I was apprehensive about going to Barton, and as I travelled to Devonshire, I wondered if Marianne would ever see me as a husband, or if she would never see me as anything more than a friend.

Wednesday 17 May

I reached Barton in good time, and I knocked on the door and was shown in. Marianne was sitting by the window, and I was heartened to see how well she looked. She had lost her pallor and her skin was as brown as it was when first I saw her last year. Her figure, which had been gaunt after her illness, had regained its fullness, and she was blooming.

She sprang to her feet when she saw me and came forward to welcome me with a smile.

‘We did not look for you so soon. You are very welcome.’

Then Mrs Dashwood came forward and welcomed me.

‘We have missed you. We have all missed you, have we not, Marianne?’ she said.

‘Yes, indeed, Mama,’ said Marianne, looking at me warmly. ‘We always miss our friends. Do sit down, Colonel. How was your journey?’

‘It was excellent, thank you,’ I said, looking at her all the while.

‘This is a day for visitors,’ said Mrs Dashwood, as tea was brought in, ‘for we have another guest.’

‘Oh?’ I asked, wondering who it could be.

‘Yes. It is someone you will like to see, for it is Edward Ferrars,’ said Marianne. ‘He is presently out walking with Elinor.’

‘We have a great deal to tell you, have we not, Marianne?’ said Mrs Dashwood.

‘We have,’ said Marianne.

‘You see, Colonel, Mr Edward Ferrars is soon to be my son-in-law. He and Elinor are engaged.’

‘But I thought he was engaged to Miss Lucy?’ I asked in surprise.

‘And so he was. But the engagement was not to his liking. He had entered into it as a very young man when he was far from home, and when he later realized that she did not have the qualities he needed in a wife, it was too late; they were already engaged. To make matters worse, Edward then met Elinor and discovered that she was exactly the sort of superior young woman he ought to be marrying.’

‘And I gave him the living of Delaford, thinking I was helping him,’ I said, with a shake of my head.

‘It was very kind of you. You were a true friend to him,’ said Marianne. ‘You were not to know that he did not look forward to the marriage.’

‘He thought the case was hopeless, for he would not go back on his word to Lucy. But then the engagement became known and he was cast off by his mother, who made the estate over to his brother, Robert,’ said Mrs Dashwood.

‘At which Lucy, although protesting that she did not mind being poor, went to see Robert, pretending that she needed his advice,’ said Marianne. ‘Lucy is very pretty, and Robert is very stupid, so that it did not take her long to win his affections, and she married him quickly, before he could change his mind. Leaving Edward free.’

‘Free to marry Elinor,’ I said. A smile spread across my face. ‘But this is wonderful news.’

I saw Marianne looking at me, startled.

‘It is wonderful news?’ I asked, wondering if there was any part of the story I did not yet know.

‘Oh, yes, quite wonderful,’ said Marianne. ‘It was not your comment that startled me, it was your smile.’

‘Marianne!’ said her mother.

‘I have never seen the Colonel smile before,’ she said, unabashed, as she continued to watch my face, and I was pleased to see that, although her recent experiences had tempered her outspokenness, they had not rid her of it altogether. ‘You look different when you smile.’

‘Then we must make sure the Colonel has plenty to smile about in the coming months,’ said Mrs Dashwood, with a kind look towards me.

At that moment Ferrars and Elinor returned from their walk, and I sprang to my feet.

‘You see,’ said Margaret, who followed them into the room, fresh from playing in the garden. ‘I told you that Elinor’s beau’s name began with an F!’

We all laughed.

‘Allow me to congratulate you,’ I said. ‘Elinor, I am more pleased than I can say.’ I turned to Ferrars and shook him by the hand. ‘You are a lucky man.’

‘I know,’ he said with a smile. ‘I must thank you again, properly this time, for the living. It was a very great kindness to give it to me when I had no claim on it, save that of mutual friends. When you first made the gift, I am afraid I was ungrateful, for I feared that it would hasten a marriage that was distasteful to me, and yet which seemed unavoidable. Yet now I can thank you from the bottom of my heart.’

‘And I must thank you, too,’ said Elinor. ‘You have been a true friend to all my family.’

‘I only wish I could do more.’

‘As to that, I hope that I might now be able to help myself,’ said Ferrars. ‘I aim to go to town in a few days’ time and see if it is possible to be reconciled with my mother. Now that Robert has married to displease her, she may look kindly on me once more.’

We were interrupted at that point by Sir John, who had brought the mail. He was surprised to see me but made me welcome, and invited me to stay at the Park, an offer I accepted as Mrs Dashwood’s house was full.

He was soon apprised of Elinor’s betrothal, and he offered his heartiest congratulations. Then, after sitting with us for a time, he went to give his wife the news.

‘Is there anything from Mrs Jennings?’ asked Mrs Dashwood as Elinor sorted through the letters. ‘I can never thank her enough for looking after Marianne, and she promised to write to me and let me know how Charlotte and the baby are getting on.’

‘Yes,’ said Elinor.

‘Read it to me, would you, Elinor dear?’ she said.

Elinor began to read, and the letter, which a few days before would, I am sure, have caused pain, caused only mirth.

‘What do you think? Lucy has deserted her beau, Edward Ferrars, and has run off with his brother! Poor Mr Edward! I cannot get him out of my head, but you must send for him to Barton, and Miss Marianne must try to comfort him.’

‘I think I will leave the task of comforting him to my sister! ’ said Marianne.

‘And here is another letter,’ said Elinor. ‘It is from John.’

‘Ah! Let us hear what your brother has to say,’ said Mrs Dashwood.

The letter began with salutations, but soon began to talk of Robert Ferrars’s marriage.

‘Mrs Ferrars is the most unfortunate of women,’ read Elinor. ‘Robert’s offence was unpardonable, but Miss Lucy’s was infinitely worse. I have made up my mind not to mention either of them to Mrs Ferrars ever again, and I beg you will do the same; and, even if she might hereafter be induced to forgive Robert, his wife will never be acknowledged as her daughter, nor be permitted to appear in her presence. The secrecy with which everything has been carried on between them only made the crime worse, because had any suspicion of it occurred to the others, proper measures would have been taken to prevent the marriage. I am sure you will join with me, Elinor, in thinking that it would have been better for Lucy to marry Edward, rather than to spread misery farther in the family.’

At this, we all laughed again.

‘But finish the letter,’ said Mrs Dashwood.

‘Mrs Ferrars has never yet mentioned Edward’s name, which does not surprise us; but, to our great astonishment, not a line has been received from him on the occasion. Perhaps, however, he is kept silent by his fear of offending, and I shall therefore give him a hint, by a line to Oxford, that his sister and I both think a letter of proper submission from him, addressed perhaps to his sister Fanny, and by her shown to her mother, might not be taken amiss, for we all know the tenderness of Mrs Ferrars’s heart and that she wishes for nothing so much as to be on good terms with her children. ’

‘A letter of proper submission!’ Edward said. ‘Would they have me beg my mother’s pardon for Robert’s ingratitude to her and breach of honour to me?’

‘You may certainly ask to be forgiven,’ said Elinor, ‘be cause you have offended. And when she has forgiven you, perhaps a little humility may be convenient while acknowledging a second engagement, almost as imprudent in her eyes as the first.’

He had nothing to say against it, but, feeling that it would be easier to make concessions by word of mouth rather than on paper, it was resolved that, instead of writing to his sister, he should go to London, and personally ask for her help.

‘And if they really do interest themselves in bringing about a reconciliation,’ said Marianne, ‘I shall think that even John and his wife are not entirely without merit.’

‘What do you say to the idea of calling in at Delaford on your way to London?’ I said. ‘You can see the parsonage, and we can decide on some improvements. Then I can set the work in hand.’

He agreed to the proposal and then suggested to Elinor that they should resume their rambles around the countryside. Mrs Dashwood having some housekeeping to attend to, and Margaret running out into the garden once again to play, Marianne and I were left alone.

‘And so, Colonel, I find I cannot cling to my belief that second attachments are unpardonable: Edward’s love for Elinor is a second attachment, and if I were to follow my former philosophy, then he would be condemned to a life of misery with Lucy, instead of a life of happiness with Elinor,’ she said thoughtfully. ‘And yet, perhaps in some cases it might not be possible to make a second attachment, if the first was felt too deeply,’ she went on, shaking her head. Then she raised her eyes and looked into mine. ‘You loved deeply once. Do you believe it is possible, after such an attachment, to be happy again?’

‘For a long time I thought not, but now, yes, I do think it is possible,’ I said.

‘I hope you are right,’ she said with a sigh, ‘otherwise I am destined for a lonely life.’

I said gently, ‘I do not believe that that will be your fate.’



Saturday 20 May

Ferrars and I arrived at Delaford this afternoon. He complimented me on the mansion house, and then we walked down the road to the parsonage.

‘This is better than I expected, much better,’ he said. ‘From what you had told me, I was expecting some dilapidated cottage, but it is a house of good proportions and not inconsiderable dimensions.’

‘It can be added to,’ I said. ‘It would be easy to build on at the back and build another room above. The gardens, also, are capable of improvement.’

He cast his eye over the whole, and then we went in.

‘It needs new papers,’ I said, ‘and carpets on the floor.’

‘I am sure Elinor will want to choose those. I will leave it all to her,’ he said. ‘I am a lucky man, Brandon. A few weeks ago I despaired of happiness, but fate has delivered it into my hands. Now all it needs is for my mother to relent, and I will have more happiness than any man has a right to expect. I hope the same good fortune might befall you.’

He looked at me knowingly, and I could not help smiling, and he said that he hoped we would be very happy.

‘Nothing is certain,’ I said.

‘What in life is certain? But that does not mean you cannot hope. Hope is every man’s friend.’

We went out into the garden.

‘I can imagine Elinor here, cutting flowers for the house,’ he said.