“It’s all right, John. This is your home now.” Diane looked to her girls. The bond they shared was growing even stronger through these strained circumstances.
Francil moved on as if nothing was the matter. “Our belongings will be coming in a few days. Oh, and my brother is in Seattle so I’ve invited him to stay with us.”
John observed the peeved looks shared among Diane and her two eldest. For their sake, he hoped they would find another place soon. Francil wasn’t an easy woman to live with.
Finally January had arrived and Diane, anxious to safeguard her belongings, doubled her efforts to remove their possessions from the house. She feared the longer their personal belongings remained within Francil’s grasp, the easier it would be for her daughter-in-law to claim them as her own. Hiring a moving van, Diane planned to move the boxes from the garage and everything they were able to stow away that day into a nearby storage unit she had rented. To speed this effort, she assigned Ellie and Marianne to moving van detail and the sisters had been dutifully acting as their mother’s legs—fetching items, carrying boxes, and packing designated keepsakes. Around mid-day, they decided to take a quick break so Marianne could get a glass of water. Ten minutes later, Ellie glanced at her watch while sitting at the top of the stairs and grumbled that Marianne had been gone long enough to get a dozen glasses of water. She waited five minutes more before giving up and deciding to lug the latest sealed box to the van. Ellie’s hope was that by the time she made it safely down the stairs, Marianne would be there to meet her at the front door.
Carefully guiding herself down to the main entry with the heavier-than-expected box, Ellie’s expectation dropped with no Marianne in sight. How was she going to juggle the load and turn the doorknob? Hoping there was a chance that her sister might be somewhere downstairs, Ellie tried calling for her. “Marianne!” she yelled, “Can you get the door!?!”
She waited a moment without any response before sighing and applying her efforts to opening the door on her own. Not one to needlessly waste time, Ellie didn’t like the thought of standing around for who knows how long until Marianne would finally appear. Ellie did, however, cherish the thought of reporting back to her mother about her sister’s extremely long water break. While mentally practicing the recount she’d deliver to her mom, Ellie started to shift the majority of the box’s weight to her left arm in order to free up her right. Feeling her left bicep strain under the pressure, she cautiously began to move her right hand toward the doorknob. Ellie grasped the cold brass in her fingers and slowly tried turning her wrist clockwise to release the latch. Just as success was within her reach, the box began to tip left and her heart braced as she quickly steadied the awkward piece of cardboard. Calming herself, Ellie tried again, this time, counterbalancing the weight of the box by leaning toward the right while turning the knob. Her efforts were indeed successful, but she had not taken into account how much force she would have to use initially to push open the door, and before she knew it, was stumbling outside with the ground as her target. Yet, seemingly out of nowhere, Ellie felt a pair of strong arms reach out and catch her along with the wayward box. Ordinarily, being scooped up by a stranger would have made her scream and call for help, but at that moment all she could think about was how grateful she was for a soft place to land rather than the cold cement.
“Whoa there!” Ellie heard a man’s voice call out.
“Oh!” she backed away once on her feet again. Upon catching a glimpse of the stranger, Ellie blushed. “I’m so sorry,” she apologized. The man standing before her was quite handsome, and Ellie found herself momentarily at a loss for words. Taking another step back to increase the space between them to more than just a few inches, Ellie’s hand involuntarily went up to fix her disheveled hair. “Thank you,” she mumbled once feeling presentable again, feeling foolish as she extended both arms to show him she was ready for him to return the box. But instead of placing the heavy burden back into her possession, the young man just smiled at Ellie, making her nervous.
Finally he spoke up. “I’m Edward, Edward Ferrars,” he said.
Letting her nerves get the best of her, Ellie answered faster than her tongue could move. “El-Elinor Da-Dashwood,” she said before swiftly revising her answer with, “But everyone calls me Ellie.” She felt her face darken a shade or two before attempting to lessen the awkwardness of her introduction by diverting his attention to her home. But before she could do so, she heard Francil call out from upstairs.
“Edward?” Francil’s surprised voice rang out, and both Edward and Ellie looked up to where she stood on the balcony. “Edward!” she continued with glee, “I thought I heard your voice!” Francil only then observed Edward holding a box. Alarmed by the thought of her mother-in-law taking advantage of her brother and putting him to work around the estate, she invited him up without delay. Assuring Francil he would be right there, Edward smiled kindly at Ellie.
“Where can I put this for you?” he asked.
“Oh, you don’t have to do that,” Ellie quickly replied, reaching for the box again.
“I insist,” Edward’s dimple creased with his growing enjoyment as he took a playful step back. Momentarily speechless, Ellie pointed to the van parked in the long driveway. “The truck?” he asked for confirmation and Ellie nodded. She couldn’t help but admire his physique as he placed the box near the truck bed’s opening as if it contained merely feathers.
As he came back toward her and retrieved his duffel bag, Ellie smiled awkwardly. “Um. . .” she cleared her throat, “Thank you.”
“It was no problem at all,” Edward smiled in return. “See you around, Ellie.”
With that, Edward strolled into the house to meet up with his sister. Ellie closed the front door behind him and trudged over to the moving van where she practically crash-landed. Taking a seat next to the troublesome box, she tried breathing slowly in and out to calm her unusually fast-beating heart. She told herself the stranger wouldn’t be staying long, and once he departed, things would return to normal. Slowly easing her nervousness with thoughts such as that, Ellie was suddenly struck with the realization that this young man wasn’t just an ordinary stranger—he was Francil’s brother!—meaning he wouldn’t be going anywhere anytime soon! At a loss as to why it hadn’t occurred to her earlier, Ellie kicked herself for being such a klutz around him. Now she couldn’t just slink away in her embarrassment like usual, but rather would have to face him daily during the duration of his stay! Perhaps the reason she hadn’t made the connection initially was because Edward seemed so unlike anything she had ever dreamed would encompass a brother of the “Ice Queen.” Warning herself not to be too hasty in her judgment of Edward’s character since first impressions can be deceiving, Ellie felt a mixture of emotions as she got up from the van, but most of all curiosity.
“John’s half-siblings are not friendly at all,” Francil complained as she gave Edward a guided tour of the Dashwood home later that afternoon. Having just introduced her brother to the Dashwood Family, their annoying presence was fresh on her mind.
Shrugging, Edward wasn’t quite sure how his sister wanted him to respond as she studied a Picasso painting hanging on the wall. He and Francil had never been close, she being eight years older. Throughout their childhood, Francil had been away most of the time at boarding school or vacationing with friends during the holidays, or else too busy with boys to notice him. By the time Edward was in high school, Francil was already married and living on the East Coast with John. Although Edward loved Francil because she was his sister and a part of his family, it didn’t mean that he appreciated the way she had turned out. For the past half-hour, he had silently listened to Francil criticize the house, its lawn, her mother-in-law, and now John’s half-sisters. He was ready for a change of subject.
Clueless to the conversation at hand, Ellie came up the back stairs with a load of laundry meant for Margaret’s room. Normally this wasn’t a task she found herself completing, but under the stri
ct dictatorship of Francil, all of their household staff had been let go to make way for her new work force who had yet to be assembled. It had been especially hard on Diane who counted their cook, Linda, a dear friend. If they could have managed Linda’s salary within their new budget, they would have asked her to move with them. But unfortunately they didn’t have that type of money anymore, and furthermore, had no say in the concerns of the current household.
Turning the corner toward the west wing where Margaret’s new suite was situated at the end of the hallway, Ellie caught herself before stepping into view of Francil and Edward and, without meaning to, began to overhear their conversation.
“Marianne barely says a word to me, and Margaret is glued to the TV!” Francil scoffed. “That’s certainly not healthy! You’d think John’s stepmother would know better.” Francil shook her head and pointed to the room on the right, quickly adding before they passed it, “This used to be John’s old room growing up.” Edward nodded, and Francil continued her previous point, “I mean, if Diane doesn’t watch out, she’ll have a couch potato on her hands.”
Ellie fought to keep her mouth shut, denying the urge to defend her youngest sister. Margaret spent most of her time outdoors, everyone knew that! Knowing there would be another opportunity later to set Francil straight anonymously, Ellie maintained her silence and, with that, her hiding place.
“Francil, what do you expect?” Edward surprised Ellie by objecting with his sister, “They’ve just lost their dad.”
Francil rolled her eyes and moved past her brother toward the library. She honestly couldn’t understand Edward. Francil found him odd, and he constantly upset her by seemingly always siding against her. Not only that, she agreed with their mother that he was out of control—Edward had no career plan, and it seemed like he could care less about the pay scales for the professions his family suggested. Mrs. Ferrars was at her wits end at what to do with him—he wouldn’t even accept the Porsche she had gotten him for his last birthday. “Well,” Francil sighed as she brushed off his apparent lack of sympathy, “I can’t wait till they’re gone; then we can finally have the house to ourselves.”
Edward was exhausted. It wasn’t even seven-thirty in the evening yet and he was ready to crawl under the covers and call it a night. Meetings with his mother always had a similar effect. Loosening his bow tie, Edward sat on the edge of the bed and yawned. He hadn’t even stayed for dessert. His mother hadn’t been too happy about that, but at least he’d paid his respects at the radio personality gala and given the mother he hadn’t seen in months a hello and a hug. Of course she’d been busy most of the evening with acquaintances and business associates, but that wasn’t unusual. Lowering himself back onto the bed, Edward told himself he’d just close his eyes for a minute and then change out of his Armani tuxedo and into something more comfortable. The room was so quiet and peaceful, and the slight breeze coming in through the opened window felt soothing as it drifted across his cleanshaven face. He was just about to doze off when the faint sound of a voice coming from outside reached his ears. It was definitely female and he wondered which of the Dashwood ladies it belonged to. His curiosity getting the better of him, Edward forced himself up off the bed and removed his bow tie before unbuttoning the first few buttons of his dress shirt. He decided now was as good a time as any to change out of his evening wear. He didn’t mean to eavesdrop but the unusual rhythm and clarity of the voice told him this was no ordinary conversation coming from outside. Maneuvering slowly to the window, Edward pushed aside the curtain to peer below.
There, down on the back lawn, were Ellie and her two younger sisters engaged in some sort of dance routine. The porch lights provided enough light for him to make out the girls as they bounced about. While Marianne steadily called out the beats, the lovely Ellie caught his particular attention as she seemed to be making up dance moves and demonstrating them to Margaret who, in turn, copied them. It was obvious by their playful body language that the sisters were very close, and Edward found himself feeling envious of the bond they shared. He had never been close to either of his siblings. Feeling the sudden urge to capture this moment, Edward picked up his SLR camera from the nearby desk and adjusted the manual settings for nighttime and porch light. Aiming the camera at the sisters, he snapped several pictures of the duo before lowering the camera. Almost immediately, he felt self-conscious about having trespassed upon their privacy and quickly deleted the images. He would get permission before taking more pictures of them in the future.
Edward was just about to turn away from the window to change when he noticed Marianne jog inside with Margaret in tow. Expecting Ellie to follow, he was surprised when she instead remained. Without knowing exactly why, Edward felt drawn to Ellie and couldn’t pass up on this opportunity to spend some time with her. Not giving himself time to second guess, he quickly set aside the camera and headed downstairs.
However, by the time Edward reached the back porch where Ellie still sat on the hammock, he noticed she was crying. But before he could change his course to allow her some privacy, his presence was noted and Ellie blushed as she tried wiping away her tears.
Ellie didn’t like others to see her crying, and had even waited for Marianne and Margaret to leave before releasing her emotions. Edward’s approach had startled her, and as she attempted to erase the evidence of sorrow, she chided herself for not having waited until in the safety of her own room.
No turning back, Edward stepped toward Ellie and handed her the white handkerchief from his front tuxedo jacket pocket—for once thankful that his mother had insisted he keep a supply of the archaic item for formal society events. Ellie shyly accepted the handkerchief, feeling the cloth’s silky texture and noting how his initials were monogrammed on it. Turning from him, she proceeded to wipe away the remaining tears before delicately blowing her nose into it. Not thinking clearly, Ellie folded it back up and attempted to return it as was.
“Keep it,” Edward smiled as he sat down next to her. “Did you really think I’d want it back after you’ve blown your nose on it?” he grinned at her teasingly. “Although, I might be able to make a fortune selling it on eBay. People go crazy over things like that, especially when it belongs to a famous dance choreographer or something like that.”
“You saw that?” Ellie groaned, her cheeks turning rosy. “Marianne and I were helping Margaret with a school project.”
“I think my favorite part was when you went like this,” Edward got to his feet and demonstrated a kick ball change with some arm flapping, exaggerating everything.
Ellie laughed, amused by his silly depiction of their routine.
Edward paused to study Ellie as she did so, captivated by the soft chime of her laughter. He found the sound delightful and before he could stop himself told Ellie just that.
Stopping short, Ellie grew quiet and Edward was immediately embarrassed by his unusual omission—normally he was master of casualty. Disguising his discomfort, he feigned preoccupation by sitting back down and rolling up the sleeves of his dress shirt until the awkward moment passed.
Ellie had laughed—she’d truly laughed for what seemed like the first time in ages. The sensation of joy felt so foreign to Ellie that she had been startled by Edward’s observation. “I didn’t think I’d ever laugh again,” she confessed, the heaviness in her heart returning, “ugh, stupid emotions.” She fingered the handkerchief nervously, trying to keep her tears at bay.
“Yeah, they always catch me off guard, too,” Edward replied in an effort to keep things light.
Ellie smiled at him again. She hadn’t expected Edward to be such a jokester. “So, besides making despondent girls laugh, what else do you do?” she asked playfully. Ellie couldn’t quite understand what it was about Edward that made her so nervous in his presence. She almost felt like she didn’t know herself when he was around—she was all a flutter—especially when Edward flashed her that smile of his, which he just happened to do right then, causing her stomach to some
rsault.
“Actually, nothing,” Edward answered matter-of-factly, folding his arms across his chest and relaxing onto the woven berth.
“You don’t work at all?” Ellie looked at him with surprise.
“No, I just mooch off all my friends and family,” he answered sarcastically before adding, “I live a squandering life. . .” Edward pretended to be nonchalant while examining his fingernails as if in character, making Ellie laugh.
“So how long do you plan on staying here then?” Ellie relaxed back next to him.
“Oh, I don’t know. As long as they’ll have me I guess.”
Edward looked directly at Ellie with his dazzling blue eyes, making it very hard for her to focus. Losing track of her thoughts, she defaulted to a previous question.
“So, seriously you don’t do anything at all?” she asked again, this time attempting to look anywhere but into his eyes.
“Well, not much,” Edward gazed beyond her to the estate’s vast backyard, noting the well manicured lawn and how majestic it looked with all the lawn lamps glowing. “I guess you could say I play at being a photographer.”
“What type of pictures do you take?” Interested, Ellie momentarily forgot her shyness and turned slightly to better face him.
“Wildlife, people, nature,” Edward’s face lit up as he turned back to her, “I love landscapes especially. I’ve had a few of my pictures picked up by National Geographic, but just as freelance. Regrettably, not enough to pay the bills.”
Even though Edward downplayed his photography, Ellie couldn’t help but be impressed. To be featured in National Geographic—that was big time, right? Showing her admiration, she exclaimed, “Really? That’s awesome!”
A Modern Day Sense and Sensibility: An Adaptation of Jane Austen's Classic Page 3
