But even this announcement wasn’t able to spur a response from Marianne who simply kept at her task. Shrugging, Ellie closed the door, hoping this present mood of her sister’s wouldn’t be a permanent one. She missed Marianne.
The next few days passed quickly and were filled with sightseeing—the Statue of Liberty, Times Square, a Broadway show—and lots of shopping. Ellie tried to enjoy herself, but apparently the Palmers enjoyed the same society as Edward’s family and she was in constant fear of running into him with Lucy. This kept her continually on guard. That aside, Marianne’s behavior was worrisome. Her earlier enthusiasm about visiting New York City had vanished. She rarely finished a meal and seemed to mope around all day, no matter how much everyone tried to cheer her up. Ellie figured her sister had probably lost ten pounds since the break-up, and the dark circles underneath Marianne’s eyes were becoming more pronounced every day.
Ellie was dreading their planned lunch with John and Francil that coming Saturday, knowing that they would inevitably deem Marianne’s behavior rude, unexplained as it would appear. Afterward, she would be hounded with questions concerning Marianne, none of which she would want to answer. Her only consolation was that the sooner they got it over with, the sooner she could move on.
But now, as Ellie listened to Francil’s one-sided conversation (with the occasional interjection by Mrs. Jennings), she kept an eye on the clock, no longer sure that “getting it over with” was truly the best option.
“I’m so excited!” Francil continued in her uppity tone as the party lunched at an upscale delicatessen. “My brother will be joining us the evening of the Dashwood International Charity Ball!”
At the mention of Francil’s brother, Ellie looked up from her wild salmon and garlic artichoke pasta with surprise. Edward—at the charity ball? She didn’t have to look at Lucy to know her rival shared her thoughts.
Marianne, who had previously been picking at her food, not giving a hoot about one word coming from Francil’s mouth, was suddenly responsive. Looking hopefully at Ellie, she was surprised when her sister averted her eyes. Although Ellie wished to convey her agony to Marianne, she was not only bound by a forced promise, but feared that any response would call the attention of Francil, Lucy, and worst of all Mrs. Jennings, who already liked to tease her about this “somebody” she was pining after.
“You have a brother?” Mrs. Jennings inquired with eager interest.
“Yes, two actually,” Francil answered, taking a sip of her caramel latte.
“Two!” Mrs. Jennings exclaimed, “Even better!” Her gaze fell upon Ellie and then on Lucy, already entertaining ideas to marry each of them off to the Ferrars brothers.
“It was Edward who came and stayed with us before Diane and John’s half-sisters moved out,” Francil explained. “Perhaps they mentioned him to you.”
While Mrs. Jennings got the scoop from Francil, Ellie sensed Lucy’s sharp gaze on her and she blushed. It was obvious Mrs. Jennings had connected the dots and suspected that Ellie’s “somebody” was most likely Edward Ferrars.
Even though Ellie was delighted with the prospect of seeing Edward after all this time, she also dreaded the encounter. Mrs. Jennings now had a name for her crush which meant the teasing would only increase, causing Ellie’s interactions with Lucy to become even more uncomfortable. Then, in an effort to avoid seeing Edward or discuss him with Marianne, she would no doubt alienate her sister even more. On top of it all, Ellie wasn’t even sure how she felt about him anymore in light of his engagement. Even if he had entertained second thoughts about his relationship with Lucy, Edward should have at least ended it before flirting with the idea of a romance with Ellie, right? Or maybe that hadn’t been his intention at all, and Edward’s friendship was never meant to be anything more than just that, friendship. Could both she and her family have misread his interest in her? Perhaps his seeming affection and preference only stemmed from seeing her as a sister. This final thought was even more depressing than the rest!
The Dashwood International Charity Ball was to be held the following Thursday evening, just four days away—and to Charlotte’s alarm, none of the women, including her mother, had packed any formal attire. Dedicating an entire day to shopping, Charlotte therefore took it upon herself to clothe them at her expense.
With their attendance at the ball expected, the ladies had no choice but to try on all the lovely things Charlotte picked out: beautiful gowns, elegant shoes, and lots of dazzling accessories. “I’m pregnant and don’t look good in clothes right now,” Charlotte declared, “But don’t take away my joy—allow me to make sure all of you do!”
For her mother, Charlotte chose a two-piece, light blue, chiffon dress suit which had embroidered beading around the collar. It looked fabulous on Mrs. Jennings. To finish the look, Charlotte selected a clutch for her as well as shoes and jewelry to match. Charlotte also insisted her mother update her hairdo.
For Lucy, Charlotte selected an emerald green, strapless dress which narrowed from the hips down and came with a matching shawl. The green did wonders in bringing out the vivid shade of Lucy’s eyes. Charlotte chose a delicate bag, strappy stilettos and a simple necklace to complete Lucy’s attire.
Picking out Marianne’s evening wear seemed to bring the most pleasure to Charlotte, as everything looked great on Marianne. By far the most beautiful of the women, Marianne, despite her current disposition, radiated in each selection Charlotte presented. Finally settling on an off-the-shoulder design with long flowy sleeves, the gown’s soft peachy shade caused Marianne’s skin to glow and the narrowed waist only served to highlight her slim circumference. The delicate layers of sheer fabric that descended from the waist just barely touched the floor, sashaying whenever Marianne moved. To accompany the dress, Charlotte chose the perfect beige heel, a delicate clutch, and a pair of earrings and necklace to match. Marianne was stunning.
Ellie was the last to be fitted in her formal attire. For the eldest Dashwood daughter, Charlotte chose a simple black gown that was reminiscent of Audrey Hepburn’s look in Breakfast at Tiffany’s. Ellie fell in love with how the dress made her feel, and was glad it wasn’t colorful like the other gowns since she preferred subdued tones. To Ellie, the simpler, the better. Charlotte paired the selection with elegant black heels and a small metallic clutch, and although she tried to get Ellie to accept a coordinating necklace, Ellie was firm in that she wanted to wear the silver chain her father had given her as a birthday present a few years back.
With the ladies now set for their debut at the charity formal, the exhausted foursome (for Charlotte was only more energetic after a successful day of styling) headed back to the flat for a relaxing evening before it started all over again the next day. Charlotte had scheduled them a long session at the beauty parlor, making sure they were spoiled with pedicures and manicures. Afterward, each sat before a makeup artist and hairstylist who perfected their faces and gave them elegant updos. The ladies looked amazing and couldn’t wait to show off Charlotte’s handiwork at the party later that evening.
Hosted in one of the finest ballrooms in the city, the Dashwood International Charity Ball was exquisite. The room was filled with grandeur, extravagant food creations, and hundreds of wealthy guests as a band played Glen Miller dance tunes on stage.
When Mrs. Jennings and her party entered the room, Charlotte’s disappointment was apparent at seeing James immediately locate a few of his golfing buddies and excuse himself. Although this wasn’t exactly how she’d envisioned the evening playing out, Charlotte sighed and moved on—bent on having a good time that night, regardless. “Well, should we find our table?” she suggested. Everyone nodded and moving together through the crowded ballroom, they approached a waiter who led them to their table.
Scanning the crowd once their purses had been deposited beneath their seats, Mrs. Jennings announced, “Oh, look. There’s Francil!” Glancing back at Ellie with anticipation, she quickly started toward John’s wife, leaving everyone with no
other choice but to follow.
As they approached Francil, the ladies took notice of her extravagantly sequined black gown with its plunging back. The ensemble gave off a blue hue as it shimmered in the night lighting—radiating wealth. Francil looked like a million bucks.
“Francil!” Mrs. Jennings exclaimed, catching Francil’s attention.
“Oh, hello,” Francil greeted, looking as if it were a chore speaking to them.
“You look fabulous,” Mrs. Jennings complimented. “And where’s that husband of yours?”
“This dress is amazing, isn’t it,” Francil bragged, examining it before explaining, “John stepped outside for a few moments. Pre-speech jitters.”
Mrs. Jennings nodded and looked around the vicinity of Francil. “Are either of your brothers here as well?”
“Yes, he should be here by now,” Francil replied non-chalantly, not having heard Mrs. Jennings correctly over the commotion in the ballroom. Her answer, at first puzzling them, had the ladies quickly scanning the crowd in order to determine which brother Francil was referring to.
Francil was the first to catch sight of her brother, and rightly so, since none of them had ever seen this man before. “Oh, there he is,” she pointed to the back of a man engrossed in conversation with a large group near the bar.
Both Lucy and Ellie thought perhaps they’d been confused about whom Francil had pointed at, yet when the man turned around and waved back at his sister, they realized there had been no mistake.
“Edward?” Mrs. Jennings questioned, thinking perhaps she had overestimated Ellie’s taste in men. Even from afar, the stranger appeared self-important and overdressed.
“No, this is my brother Robert,” Francil explained with a laugh, succeeding in motioning for him to join them. Maneuvering toward their group, Robert handed Francil the glass of champagne he brought with him. “We were just talking about you,” Francil told him before taking a sip.
Robert raised his eyebrows. “Really?” he inquired curiously, eyeing all the young ladies unabashedly.
“Mrs. Jennings, I’d like you to meet my youngest brother, Robert,” Francil introduced. “Robert, this is Mrs. Jennings, her daughter Charlotte, Ellie and Marianne Dashwood, and Lucy Steele,” she recited in succession.
“Nice to meet you,” Mrs. Jennings smiled. To her growing disapproval however, Robert only threw her a contemptible glance before looking dismissively at both Ellie and Marianne. Passing over what the elderly woman considered to be the beauties of the group, it came as a surprise to her observant eye when he gazed with interest at Lucy. Maybe there could be a match there after all? Loving the role of cupid, Mrs. Jennings became even more bent on finding Francil’s remaining sibling. “Is your other brother Edward here?” Mrs. Jennings asked Francil, glancing hopefully at Ellie who blushed and looked away.
“Edward? Oh, he had other more important engagements,” Robert answered in his sister’s stead.
Lowering her eyes, Ellie tried not to let his words injure her. After all, who was to say whether Edward even knew that she and Marianne would be there. Curiously though, Lucy looked relieved by Edward’s absence.
“Well, shall we find our seats?” Mrs. Jennings suggested, sensing the awkwardness. “Where are you and your husband sitting, Francil?”
“We’re seated over there,” Francil pointed to the table front and center of the festivities.
“Oh,” Mrs. Jennings appeared disappointed at being so distant from all the excitement. “I guess we’ll make the trek back to our table before John’s speech begins.”
Francil’s curt nod sent them on their way and, once seated, the group waited for dinner to be served. As their table was one of the last to be serviced, guests were already back on the dance floor before Mrs. Jennings and her party had even started their meals. On the menu was cordon bleu, grilled asparagus, toasted sweet rosemary bread, and peppered corn. The food was succulent and delicious—even Marianne ate a few bites.
Observing the dancing couples, Ellie was enjoying her food until a burst of laughter from a table several yards away caught her attention. What she saw stunned her. With a flustered countenance, Ellie lowered the water glass she had been sipping from, startled by the sight of none other than Willoughby himself surrounded by friends.
Swiftly averting her eyes from his form, Ellie stared down at her half-eaten dinner, praying that Marianne wouldn’t take notice. Diligent to maintain her silent composure, she quickly stole a glance at her sister, pleased for once to find that Marianne was preoccupied with picking at her food. Ellie was about to breathe a sigh of relief until Willoughby happened to say something especially loud and funny, rousing the interest of everyone within hearing distance. Unfortunately, Marianne was not deaf and instantly recognized Willoughby’s voice. Although at first thinking she must have dreamed it, Marianne’s eyes slowly surveyed the party until she caught sight of him.
“Jim!” Marianne exclaimed, her tender tone causing the guests around to stare openly, curiosity aroused.
To Ellie’s utter dismay, Marianne hastily got up to make her way over to Willoughby’s table. In a desperate attempt to stop her, Ellie grasped Marianne’s arm as she walked by, “Marianne, please,” Ellie pleaded, yet Marianne pulled away determinedly.
As Marianne pushed her way through the crowd, Mrs. Jennings looked on with a heavy heart. The elderly woman foresaw the reunion’s outcome, especially when her eyes rested on the girl sitting next to Willoughby, one arm draped possessively over his. Wanting Ellie to notice this, Mrs. Jennings asked, “Ellie, who’s that woman with Jim?”
Ellie quickly followed the elderly woman’s gaze to the richly dressed, suntanned girl. Although Willoughby’s date wasn’t nearly as beautiful as Marianne, you could tell by her perfectly bleached hair, expensive jewelry and gaudy dress that her family had deep pockets.
“Jim!” Marianne greeted with a big smile as she finally reached his table.
“So, no joke,” he continued, not having heard her, “The next day I—”
“Jim. . .” his friend interrupted him, looking pointedly at Marianne.
Willoughby turned to see who it was and froze. When his eyes rested upon Marianne’s angelic face a softness so gentle altered his features before quickly being replaced with guilt and pain. “Marianne. . .” he spoke tenderly.
Hearing the warmth in Willoughby’s tone, the woman next to him pulled away and looked at him with annoyance. Hot to avoid his date’s full displeasure, Willoughby immediately masked his face with indifference.
“Have you received any of my emails?” Marianne asked, now that she had his full attention.
Willoughby glanced uncomfortably to the rest of the guests around the table. “Yes, I received your messages,” he said cautiously, careful to answer without any trace of emotion.
Marianne looked confused and hurt, searching his face for any hint of the affection he used to hold for her. Then why hadn’t he answered them? “Jim, what’s the matter?” she pursued with a trembling voice, “Why haven’t you called me?”
No longer content with watching the descent of her sister’s hopes from a distance, Ellie came up beside Marianne. Hesitating, Willoughby avoided the sisters’ gazes by glancing about the ballroom. The band had begun playing a new tune, initiating the wave of couples now making their way to the dance floor. Instead of answering Marianne’s question, Willoughby looked pointedly at the woman sitting beside him and took her hand. “You’ll have to excuse . . . us,” he said, unable to look at Marianne as he proceeded to the dance floor with his date.
It was only then that Marianne caught sight of the diamond band resting on the girl’s ring finger. She didn’t say a word as she turned to watch the two slide into each others arms and start moving to the music together—yet her face spoke volumes. Willoughby’s betrayal now complete, Marianne’s body went cold and her face turned ashen as her heart shattered into a million pieces.
Arriving that very moment, Brandon entered the ballroom. H
e looked especially debonair in his black tuxedo, and he caught the eye of many a woman while scanning the crowd for Mrs. Jennings’s party. Spotting Charlotte attempting to flag him over, Brandon proceeded to their table.
“Brandon!” Mrs. Jennings declared, mouth full of the succulent dessert. She dabbed her lips with her napkin and swallowed before continuing, “Mr. Middleton told me you were still in New York.”
Brandon returned her greeting, but his attention was diverted upon noticing that Marianne was not seated at the table. “Aren’t Marianne and Ellie with you?” he asked, his voice tinged with worry.
Mrs. Jennings turned and glanced back at the sisters. Brandon followed her gaze. Spotting them, his heart tightened at the sight of Marianne’s face as she stared out onto the dance floor. Her ghostly expression prompted Brandon to scan the dancers. Sure enough, he caught sight of Willoughby.
Back at Willoughby’s table, Ellie tried to urge Marianne away from the scene. “Let’s go back to our seats, Marianne,” she began softly. Not only were the guests at Willoughby’s table now staring incredulously at Marianne, but so were numerous other observant party-goers around them.
“Force him to come to me, Ellie,” Marianne replied in a desperate whisper, her anguish gnawing at her sister’s heart.
“Marianne—” Ellie’s concerned voice grew sharp as she watched her sister begin to sway. But just before Marianne collapsed onto the ground, Brandon came up from behind and caught her in his strong arms. Ellie, surprised by his arrival, turned to him with relief.
“Let’s get her out of here,” Brandon took charge, voicing the thought foremost in Ellie’s mind. He proceeded to pick up Marianne, cradling her in his arms as he and Ellie maneuvered through the forming crowd. As they passed near Mrs. Jennings’s table, the elderly woman stood, concern and curiosity etched across her features.
Having noticed the commotion as well, Lucy and Robert rushed from the dance floor. “Are we leaving?” Lucy asked Mrs. Jennings, still a little out of breath from the vigorous activity.
A Modern Day Sense and Sensibility: An Adaptation of Jane Austen's Classic Page 15
