‘I was not presuming to think — ’ I said, for politeness’s sake.
‘Come, let there be no such deceptions between us. We both value the truth. You were thinking it odd, were you not?’
‘Very well, yes, I was.’
‘But you see, it is simple to explain. Elinor and I do not flatter our sister-in-law, nor do we spoil the children. The Misses Steele do both.’
‘You will, perhaps, be happier here than at your brother’s house,’ I said. ‘You will at least be spared the impertinences of the Misses Steele.’
But her spirits, which were not yet strong, had made all the effort they were capable of making for the time being, and she replied, ‘As to that, it is a matter of perfect indifference to me where I am,’ then relapsed into silence.
I tried to lift her out of it, but she had gone where I could not follow, and I could not pierce her sad thoughts.
I did not despair, however, for time will lessen her pain and I am persuaded she has weathered the worst. Young as she is, she will soon begin to take an interest in life again.
I believe that London has done all it can for her. She has diversion here, it is true, but she is hemmed in by a code of conduct that is stifling for her. She will be better once she returns to the country, where her spirit can be free.
Monday 27 February
‘Do the Misses Dashwood ride?’ I asked Sir John this morning.
‘Ay, they are good horsewomen by all accounts. Willoughby was all for giving Miss Marianne a fine piece of horseflesh, Queen Mab, but her mother had nowhere to keep it and she had to refuse.’
‘And you have nothing for them to ride,’ I mused.
‘Mary is no horsewoman,’ he said by way of explanation.
‘I am going to Tattersall’s next week. If I see anything suitable, I will buy it, I think.’
‘What, thinking of inviting them to Delaford, are you?’ he asked.
‘I will have to return Mrs Dashwood’s hospitality,’ I said.
‘Ay, you’re inviting them for their mother’s sake!’ said Sir John, laughing heartily.
I had to bear his teasing, but it was worth it to have discovered that Marianne was a horsewoman, and to learn that I could bring her some happiness.
I am persuaded that she will like Delaford. To be in a place that has no unhappy memories for her will do her good. And once there, she can ride to her heart’s content. The fresh air, the exercise, and the freedom from restraint will all help to restore her spirits.
I am longing to see her happy again.
Thursday 9 March
I ran across Sir John at Tattersall’s this morning as I was examining a grey mare, a neat stepper with a good temperament. He gave me his opinion on the mare, and proceeded to look at road horses for himself.
As he inspected one of the horse’s mouths, he said, ‘Have you heard the news? Edward Ferrars is engaged to Miss Lucy Steele.’
‘What?’ I asked, my hand stilling on the mare’s mane in astonishment.
I could not believe it! A man of Ferrars’s stamp, with all his superiority, to marry a vulgar creature like Lucy Steele?
‘Ay, I thought it would surprise you! “Lord,” said Mrs Jennings, “to think they kept it secret all this time!” Twelve months they’ve been engaged.’
‘Twelve months!’ I exclaimed.
‘True, upon my word,’ he said, laughing at my surprise. ‘No one knew anything about it except her sister Nancy! Met at Longstaple. His tutor was Miss Lucy’s uncle! They took a fancy to one another and got engaged, but never said anything about it because they knew Mrs Ferrars wouldn’t like it. She wanted Edward to go into parliament, or make a noise in some other public fashion, not sink into obscurity; and as for marrying his tutor’s niece, why, she had chosen an heiress for him to marry!’
I remembered her praising Miss Morton and I thought, Little did she know, when she was admiring Miss Morton’s painting, that her son was already engaged!
‘His mother told him of her plans for him, I suppose, and he said that he could not marry Miss Morton, and that is what brought matters to a head,’ I said.
‘No such thing. Miss Lucy’s sister popped the whole thing out! A good creature, but without a grain of sense. Thought Miss Lucy was so well liked by Mrs John Dashwood that neither she nor Mrs Ferrars would object. Went to her as she sat at her carpet-work and let the whole thing out! You can imagine what a blow it was to Mrs Dashwood’s pride and vanity. Fell into violent hysterics immediately; her husband heard her; and then they turned on poor Miss Lucy. Then Mrs Dashwood fell into hysterics again, and the doctor was sent for. And that is how I learnt of it — ’
He paused as the mare was taken away and another one brought for me to inspect, and then continued.
‘ — for after seeing Mrs Dashwood — who is not ill, by the by, but just temporarily overcome — the doctor went on to see Mrs Palmer, who was in a fright about the baby catching a cold or something or other, and there he met Mrs Jennings, who had the whole story out of him.’
‘And you had it from Mrs Jennings?’
‘I came across her just now, on her way home.’
I was amazed at the whole story, but I hoped they would be very happy and I said so to Sir John.
‘Ay, all this fuss about money and greatness, what does it matter, as long as two people love each other, eh, Brandon? There is no reason on earth why Mr Edward and Lucy should not marry, for Mrs Ferrars is very rich by all accounts and may afford to do very well by her son; and though Lucy has next to nothing herself, she will know how to manage on very little, I am sure.’
He left me examining the mare, a bay with good paces, and went off to look at road horses.
I saw three more mares and chose one with a good temperament but plenty of spirit.
I mean to take her to Delaford myself tomorrow, so that she will be used to her new home by the time Marianne arrives.
Friday 10 March
I fell in with John Dashwood on my way to the stables this morning, and as soon as he saw me, he said, ‘Ah! Brandon, you have heard all about it, I suppose.’
I had no desire to talk to him, for his behaviour to his sisters had given me a disgust of him that nothing could overcome, but I could not escape him, for he walked along beside me, talking all the while.
‘Never has anyone been so deceived,’ he said. ‘My poor Fanny! She has borne it all with the fortitude of an angel! She says she will never think well of anybody again.’
She was the most ill-used of women, according to Dashwood, and so was his mother-in-law, Mrs Ferrars; but everything he said made me like them less and made me like Edward Ferrars the more, for he had stuck to his engagement, though his mother had threatened to disinherit him on the one hand, and had bribed him with the promise of riches if he married Miss Morton on the other.
‘I cannot understand it,’ said Dashwood as we crossed the road. ‘He will be penniless if he marries Miss Lucy, for his mother will never see him again; and she has made it clear that if he enters into any profession with a view of better support, she will do everything in her power to prevent his advancing in it.’
I wondered if he was speaking in jest, but he was quite serious; then I wondered if he could be sane, for he evidently thought that Mrs Ferrars had been sensible to act in such a manner.
‘He left her house yesterday, but where he is gone, or whether he is still in town, I do not know; for we of course can make no inquiry. It is a melancholy consideration. Born to the prospect of such affluence! I cannot conceive a situation more deplorable. We must all feel for him, and the more so because it is totally out of our power to assist him.’
‘As it was out of your power to assist your sisters,’ I remarked, but he did not understand my sarcasm.
‘Quite. I knew you would understand. The price of everything these days — ’ he said, shaking his head. ‘And there is one thing more preparing against him, which must be worse than all — his mother has determined, with a ver
y natural kind of spirit, to settle that estate upon Robert immediately, which might have been Edward’s. I left her this morning with her lawyer, talking over the business. Can anything be more galling to the spirit of a man than to see his younger brother in possession of an estate which might have been his own? Poor Edward! I feel for him sincerely.’
‘But not sincerely enough to help him,’ I remarked as we arrived at the stables.
He did not understand me, and when he opened his mouth to continue, I said that I was leaving for the country shortly and that I would bid him good day.
‘Oh, yes, you must be going to visit your estate, a fine estate, by all accounts. My sister, Miss Dashwood — ’
‘Good day, Mr Dashwood,’ I said firmly and went inside.
The carriage was soon ready, and with Cinnamon tethered to the back of it, I set out for Delaford.
Saturday 11 March
Cinnamon is now in the Delaford stables, and I am looking forward to seeing Marianne ride her.
Eliza and the baby are thriving. I think Willoughby’s recent behaviour has done Eliza good, for she has ceased to speak of him in affectionate terms, and she has begun to see him differently.
She would not think badly of him when he hurt her because her own feelings were too closely involved. But when he deserted Marianne, she felt compassion for her fellow sufferer, and when he then went on to marry Miss Grey, for the sake of her fortune, she could begin to see him in his true colours, as a mercenary, shallow man, who thought of no one’s feelings but his own.
I left her playing with the baby and returned to the house.
There was a messenger there, waiting for me, and on asking him his business, I discovered that Dewson, the rector, was dead; a sad blow, for I had always held him in affection, but at almost ninety years of age he had had a good life and I gave thanks for it.
Sunday 12 March
Today’s service was taken by Mr Walker, the curate, and I found myself wondering whether I should offer him the living, but then I remembered that Edward Ferrars said he was intending to go into the church, and I thought, Here is a way for me to help him.
I am only sorry that the living is so poor and that the parsonage so small, but both are capable of improvement, and it will at least give him an income and somewhere to live.
Tuesday 14 March
I was hoping to offer Ferrars the living this morning, but on reaching town I realized that I did not know where he lived. I made enquiries but I could not discover Ferrars’s address, for his sister went into hysterics when I called on her and I did not know where else to apply. And then I remembered that Mrs Dashwood had spoken of inviting him to Barton Cottage, and I thought that the Misses Dashwood might be able to help me.
I went, therefore, to Mrs Jennings’s house, where I found Marianne playing the piano. I did not like to disturb her, for although the air was a sad one, it seemed to be giving some relief to her feelings.
Instead, I spoke to Mrs Jennings, who welcomed me with. ‘Ah! Colonel, I do not know what you and I shall do without the Misses Dashwood, for they are to go to Cleveland with the Palmers for Easter. They will not come back to me afterwards, for they are quite resolved upon going home from there. How forlorn we shall be when I come back! Lord! we shall sit and gape at one another as dull as two cats.’
I was pleased rather than otherwise, for I felt that London had done all it could for Marianne, and that it must now be up to her home and her mother to complete her cure; after which I hoped that she and her family would accept an invitation to stay with me at Delaford.
Mrs Jennings turned her attention to some matters of her own, and I was free to speak to Miss Dashwood. I followed her over to the window, where she had gone in order to see the print she was making more clearly.
‘I have heard of the injustice your friend Mr Ferrars has suffered from his family,’ I said. ‘Will you be so good as to tell him that the living of Delaford is his if he think it worth his acceptance, for unfortunately it is a poor one.’
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.
Colonel Brandon's Diary Page 18
