A Modern Day Sense and Sensibility: An Adaptation of Jane Austen's Classic

by Kaitlin Saunders

  “It shouldn’t take him that long to propose!” Margaret’s frankness had them all laughing, and with understanding Mr. Middleton began packing his gear.

  Diane assured him they didn’t have to leave that second, but it was settled. “We’ll give them twenty minutes more and then head for home,” Mr. Middleton acquiesced. “In the meantime, pass me another worm.”

  In about half the time it took to get to the fishing spot, Mr. Middleton was safely returned to his front door, and the three Dashwood ladies hurried with anticipation to their apartment. Just as they were pulling into their parking spot, however, Willoughby surprised them by rushing from the apartment.

  “There’s Jim!” Margaret pointed at him.

  Instead of seeing the uncontainable joy beaming from his features as they were all expecting, Willoughby’s face was pained with grief and sorrow.

  Diane couldn’t understand what was wrong. Could Marianne have refused him? No, they were confident about her feelings for Willoughby and her desire to marry him. But then what happened? Maneuvering their vehicle next to him, Diane rolled down the window and asked, “Jim, are you leaving right now?” Although it was obvious he was, Diane hoped Willoughby’s answer might help her discover what was going on.

  Yet, rather than answer, Willoughby only paused in his gait—proving that things were indeed worse than she feared. “Jim, are you okay?” Diane pursued, “What’s the matter?”

  “I have to leave,” Willoughby answered resolutely, avoiding eye contact.

  “Why? Where are you going?” Diane asked, searching his face for answers.

  “New York.”

  “New York—now? But Jim, I thought you weren’t leaving until this evening?” Diane’s voice was becoming desperate. Why the change in his plans? And what about Marianne?

  “My aunt is . . . sending me to New York immediately. . .” he hesitated, “. . .on business.”

  The only shred of hope Diane could cling to was that Willoughby had yet to mention anything about a break-up. Maybe he was embarrassed the two had argued? Or perhaps his aunt didn’t like Marianne and was forcing him to end it? But why would anyone attempt something so heartless? It was obvious the pair were deeply attached to each other and that any lengthy separation would be unbearable for them. Surely Willoughby would find a way to still see her daughter. “You won’t be away long . . . I hope,” Diane said quietly, her vigor fading.

  Willoughby blushed, “You’re too kind, but . . . I . . . I don’t have any plans of returning to Oregon any time soon.”

  Diane fell back against the driver’s seat with resignation. All the while, Willoughby had yet to move.

  None of this was making sense to Ellie. Why would Willoughby ask for a “private audience” with Marianne and then suddenly have mysterious reasons for leaving immediately to New York? Ellie was sure there was more to this story than he was letting on.

  “Jim,” Diane started again, this time with tears forming behind her eyes, “I hope it’s not your aunt that’ll be keeping you away. You know you’re always welcome to stay with us.”

  Yet, Willoughby was still resistant, acting so unlike his previous self. “My situation at this time is in such a condition—I couldn’t—stay even if—” Willoughby stopped, turning away from them before shaking his head and hurrying to his car, leaving the bewildered trio behind.

  The sound of his vehicle booming to a start made them jump and they watched as Willoughby sped off into the distance. The three of them sat shell-shocked for several minutes following Willoughby’s departure before Diane finally parked the car and they headed cautiously inside.

  “Marianne?” Ellie called out, stepping into the apartment with apprehension. Heading to the room she shared with her sister, Ellie peered inside but saw no signs of Marianne. She quickly roamed about her mother’s room next, but Marianne was not there either. Meanwhile, Diane scanned the living room while Margaret ventured around the outside of the apartment.

  As a last resort, Ellie tried the bathroom door handle and found it was locked. “Marianne?” she asked softly, but received no reply.

  Hearing Ellie’s quiet plea, Diane rushed to the bathroom door and spoke frantically into it. “Honey, what’s wrong? What happened?”

  When still no answer came, both pressed an ear against the door. Sure enough, the sound of Marianne crying caught their attention. With relief they stood back, calming their anxious heartbeats. At least Marianne was alive and breathing. Still, whatever had happened that morning hadn’t gone well. Willoughby was gone—perhaps forever—and now Marianne just wanted to be left alone. Would they ever know what took place?

  When Marianne did emerge from the bathroom, it still brought no answers as she only then barricaded herself in her bedroom. It took nearly a week later for Diane to successfully coax Marianne from her self-imposed prison to join them for dinner. She had made Marianne’s favorite meal: fried chicken and creamy mashed potatoes with a succulent brown gravy, hoping it would entice her grieving daughter to eat. Ever since that fateful day when Willoughby left, Marianne refused to leave her bedroom and denied herself food, choosing instead to sob all day and night. Ellie and her mother were at their wits’ end for how to comfort Marianne, and now, as they all sat cautiously around the dinner table watching Marianne pick at her food, they felt as if her depression was infectious.

  In an effort to distract from the gloomy mood, Diane turned to Margaret. “So how do you like the third grade so far?” she asked.

  “School’s okay,” Margaret answered unenthusiastically.

  “Have you made any new friends?” Diane inquired.

  Swallowing her mouthful of mashed potatoes, Margaret answered, “Well, this girl in my English class invited me to sit with her at lunch yesterday.”

  “That was nice of her,” Ellie commented, taking a sip of milk.

  “Yeah, she has a dog, too,” added Margaret.

  “Really?” Diane replied with interest, “What’s her dog’s name?”

  “Frisky. I like my dog’s name better though.”

  Ellie muffled a laugh and Diane’s amused eyes glanced at Marianne, only to find her unaffected. Extending her hand, Diane tenderly pressed Marianne’s, but it was too much for the bewildered soul and she let out a sob before rushing from the table and into her room.

  Left to themselves, Ellie attempted to maintain order at the table by continuing the topic of school with Margaret. Although this seemed to work for her youngest sister, Ellie found it difficult to keep her mother’s thoughts from turning dark. Diane, of all of them, was taking Marianne’s heartbreak the hardest. Diane’s emotions were too entangled with those of her middle daughter, and Ellie feared a relapse if appropriate steps were not taken. What her family needed was resolution, and later that night Ellie attempted to begin that process.

  Pausing from her task at the kitchen sink, Ellie glanced at her mother who was working silently beside her. She recognized that Diane was still recovering from Marianne’s painful episode at dinner. Deciding to broach the topic and perhaps help her mom work through the grieving process, Ellie voiced her thoughts. “Mom, I still can’t figure out what happened. Do you think Jim and Marianne argued?”

  Diane picked up the washed skillet and began drying it. “I find that hard to believe—those two never argued. No, Ellie, I really think this aunt of Jim’s sees how much in love they are but disapproves of Marianne because we don’t have money anymore. After all, she was a mayor—I mean, that’s probably akin to royalty in this town. . . .”

  “You make it sound like one of those romance novels,” Ellie laughed.

  “I suppose I do,” Diane smiled, “But don’t assume just because Jim left as he did that he’s the one to blame.”

  Ellie was taken aback by her mother’s comment. Had Diane forgotten about Willoughby’s odd behavior that morning outside the car? Curious as to her mother’s reasoning, Ellie asked, “How do you explain Jim saying that he has no immediate plans of returning? Tha
t doesn’t seem blameless to me.”

  Almost immediately, Diane stiffened and set the towel down. “Ellie, are you insinuating that you think he was just using Marianne?” she accused. Ellie began to protest but Diane cut her off, continuing with force. “That, I cannot believe, Ellie!” Diane declared, “I’m not so quick to think badly of Jim as you are! I know he cared for Marianne!”

  Too late did Ellie discover that she should have kept her thoughts to herself. Diane was still much too emotionally involved. It wasn’t Ellie’s intent to question the sincerity of Willoughby’s love and affection for Marianne—it was just that his story wasn’t lining up! “Of course I believe he cared for Marianne, Mom!” Ellie exclaimed, “We all saw how he was around her! I know in my heart that Jim loves Marianne . . . but . . . do you think he proposed to her that day?”

  Diane toyed with the towel, folding it nicely on the countertop. “I don’t know, and Ellie, I don’t want to pry. That is between Marianne and Jim.”

  Ellie sighed. Why was it that now that she wanted her mother to be her naturally curious and nosy self, Diane all of a sudden believed in privacy! What were the odds! “But if you ask, I’m sure she’ll tell you. . .” Ellie pursued, hoping to appeal to her mother’s former sensibilities.

  “I’ve already told you, I have no intention of asking her.” Diane was firm. She didn’t like being pressured, especially when her eldest seemed confident that Willoughby was the bad guy. All this talk about love and betrayal was draining, and Diane felt her eyes begin to cloud with tears.

  “Mom. . .” Ellie tried to comfort, but Diane shook her head and left the kitchen, her sobs adding to those of Marianne’s.

  Ellie sighed again—why did most women have to be so emotional? All she had done was ask her mother a few simple questions—she wasn’t accusing anybody, only searching for answers. Ellie knew Marianne would never open up to her, but perhaps she would confide in their mother. Yet Diane’s refusal negated that option, making Ellie so frustrated she felt like crying. Swallowing back her tears, however, she denied herself that release—she had to be strong—and for some reason she strived on that disallowance.

  Quickly finishing her tasks in the kitchen, all Ellie wanted to do now was go to bed. She’d been staying up extra late the past week, trying to be conscious of the fact that Marianne needed privacy, and the lack of sleep was catching up with her. But that wasn’t the only reason for Ellie’s late bed times. If she were to be honest, it was because she couldn’t bear to witness the never-ending breaking of Marianne’s heart. Spotting the couch, Ellie was half-tempted to sleep out in the living room, but something inside told her that Marianne needed her tonight.

  Opening the bedroom door as quietly as possible, her eyes slowly adjusted to the dark and, after a moment, Ellie was able to make out Marianne’s form atop the bed where she still lay crying. While Ellie changed into her nightgown, Marianne hid underneath the bed covers. Ellie’s heart dropped at observing the severity of her sister’s depression—how long would this go on? Silently pulling back the blankets on her side of the bed, Ellie tried to relax next to Marianne without disturbing her. As she did so, Ellie prayed Marianne would be able to get at least a few hours of sleep that night, even if she herself wouldn’t.

  At church the next morning, Marianne was the main attraction with her tear-swollen eyes and puffy cheeks. Ellie disliked how people were so obtrusive and curious about something that was none of their business and wished they’d been more adamant that Marianne, despite her insistence to the contrary, remain at home. As the worship music began to play, a thought fluttered through Ellie’s mind. What if Marianne had hoped to see Willoughby at church today, and had even risked suspicion and gossip to see him? Ellie did a quick double take of the congregation for any sight of Willoughby but only confirmed his absence.

  At the pastor’s prompting to be seated, Ellie and Margaret huddled beside Marianne to keep their sister warm in the cold chapel. Pastor Todd was always a great speaker, but today his message hit home more than usual. Perhaps God impressed on his heart the need to speak on healing or disappointed hopes, or maybe he’d noticed Marianne and felt the tug to send out an encouraging message especially for her—whichever the case, Pastor Todd’s words were like balm on an open wound.

  “For those who are feeling weary and worn down—God heals the broken-hearted,” Pastor Todd said from behind the pulpit. “Our Heavenly Father has a way of mending all of our hurts if we just lay them down before His feet.”

  Ellie glanced at Marianne and watched her as she listened intently to the Pastor’s words, captivated by his comforting message.

  “In fact,” he continued, “I believe God gives us these trials in life to help us grow.”

  As Ellie continued to study Marianne, she thought she saw hope flutter across her sister’s features. What if Marianne believed her relationship with Willoughby wasn’t over—that this time apart was merely a trial? Although Ellie disliked the thought of encouraging this false hope in her sister, Marianne’s gloomy mood of late was like a black hole sucking the life out of their home. Ellie considered the possibilities. Talking sense into her sister might only cause Marianne to grow more depressed; but allowing Marianne to believe there was a chance she and Willoughby would be reunited might soften the blow of his departure until she could face it more reasonably. Her decision made, Ellie’s knew her next step was silence.

  Ellie had been too optimistic that a single church service would bring about a change in her sister. Marianne still moped, cried, pined and suffered—and let everybody know she was miserable. Ellie just couldn’t understand her sister. Marianne’s behavior had been expected the first few weeks after Willoughby left, but now it was getting a little old. Ellie’s heart was hurting just as much as Marianne’s over her separation from Edward, but she was able to push on. Yet Marianne didn’t operate the same way, and Ellie knew she shouldn’t expect her sister to process her pain like she did. Even so, Ellie wondered if Marianne’s agony was really necessary considering the fact that they might not be completely broken up. Ever since that one Sunday morning, Ellie hadn’t been able to shake the feeling that Marianne still harbored hope. Her sister continued to email Willoughby and call him occasionally (with no success that Ellie saw)—why would she do that if Willoughby never wanted to see her again? And certainly Willoughby wouldn’t have ended the relationship, not with the way they knew he felt about Marianne?

  Diane was doing her best to cheer Marianne, even making special Saturday breakfasts for her daughter. Scrambled eggs, bacon, and hash browns were on the menu that specific morning—but Diane’s efforts were in vain. As was the case at every meal nowadays, Marianne only pushed about the delicious-smelling food. Pensively, Diane watched her middle daughter avoid eating while Ellie poured herself a bowl of cereal.

  “Marianne, you have to eat something,” Ellie suggested, noticing Marianne’s resistance as she sat down next to her sister at the table.

  “I’m not hungry,” Marianne answered glumly.

  “It seems to me that lately you’re never hungry. . . .” Although Ellie’s comment was a result of her concern, the easily injured Marianne took it as criticism. Glancing up at Ellie with tearful eyes, Marianne rushed outside.

  “Marianne!” Ellie stood, calling after her. But Marianne didn’t slow down, slamming the door as she made her escape.

  “Why do you have to be so hard on her?” Diane accused, her eyes narrowing.

  “Mom, I don’t mean to be hard on her,” Ellie began apologetically, “But how long are you going to allow this to continue? It’s been months now, we haven’t heard a word from Willoughby, and Marianne continues to stay in her room almost all day crying. She no longer enjoys the things she used to—she’s dropped out of art school, something she didn’t even bother consulting us about—and as you just witnessed, Mom, she’s given up eating.” Ellie sighed and sat down next to her mother. “I don’t want to see my sister waste away over a man who, honestly,” s
he shrugged, “I don’t believe deserves her if he’s going to let her suffer like this.”

  “You’d never know by the way you’re constantly criticizing her!” Diane exclaimed, pushing back her chair and retreating from the room in tears.

  Diane’s outburst surprised Ellie and it took a moment for her to assimilate what had just happened. Instead of the heart-to-heart discussion Ellie had hoped for, one that would unite their efforts in bringing about Marianne’s full recovery, Diane had acted irrationally. It was a tell-tale sign that Marianne was not the only one taking the separation hard. Diane was experiencing her daughter’s pain as if it were her own, and therefore wasn’t thinking as clearly as she should be. Rather than being proactive and assisting with Marianne’s rehabilitation, Diane was indulging her daughter’s sensibilities because she herself wasn’t able to cope with the heartbreak either.

  Getting up, Ellie walked to the window overlooking the back lawn and spotted Marianne lying listlessly on the hammock. Should she apologize for caring too much? Ellie felt an overwhelming sense of bewilderment at having her concern misconstrued as criticism. It was as if she could do nothing right, that no matter how she approached the situation, she would always be the bad guy. Tempted to stop caring, Ellie knew that would never be possible. Until she was convinced that Marianne would get through this, she would never be able to rest. Looks like holding my tongue will be much harder than I thought, Ellie admitted, resigning herself to the long road ahead.

  Unable to avoid the company of Mrs. Jennings and Mr. Middleton any longer, the Dashwood ladies were persuaded to come out of “hiding” and join their neighbors for a game night. Mrs. Jennings’s guests would be leaving in a few days after an extended stay, and the elderly woman was hosting the event as something of a farewell party.

  But not everyone was up for the enjoyment of cards, Charlotte’s husband James opting to watch cartoons with Margaret while Marianne and Ellie busied themselves with other employments. Although disappointed by the lack of enthusiasm toward her favorite card game, Mrs. Jennings found three willing players in Diane, Charlotte and Lucy. The four of them sat around the game table and paired up, enjoying the competitive feel of Whist.