Elinor and Edward's Plans for Lucy Steele

Elinor and Edward’s Plans for Lucy Steele

A Novelette and Parody of Jane Austen’s Sense and Sensibility

By Mary Lydon Simonsen

Quail Creek Publishing, LLC

http://marysimonsenfanfiction.blogspot.com

Prologue

The family of Dashwood had long been settled in Sussex at Norland Park. The manor house was a massive stone edifice of three stories with two wings and an extensive park where sheep nibbled the lawn by day and deer by night. It was home to Henry Dashwood, a kind man and good father, and his wife. Mrs. Dashwood was a good-hearted woman and affectionate mother, who, whether for joy or sorrow, was given to bouts of weeping. They had three daughters: the practical Elinor, a handsome woman of twenty-one years, the romantic Marianne, a beautiful lady of nineteen, and the young Margaret, a pistol of a thirteen-year-old given to eavesdropping and spying on her neighbors. At Norland Park, life was a bowl of cherries. Elinor, being an outdoorsy type person, enjoyed the extensive grounds of woods and meadows, Marianne, being the opposite of her older sister, had her music and poetry, and Margaret, being a combination of her elder sisters, had a tree house with a retractable rope ladder where she would often play her lap harp. From her perch, she watched and reported on all the comings and goings of the inhabitants of the manor house and any visitors to the estate. Little did young Margaret know that on the day she looked through her spyglass and saw Dr. Cureall’s carriage coming down the drive that her world was about to change—and not for the better.

Chapter 1

Mr. Henry Dashwood lay dying from an ailment that had come upon him suddenly and one which was to carry him off quickly. Realizing the precarious state of his financial affairs, he asked that his son, John Dashwood, the only child from Mr. Dashwood’s first marriage, be sent for. Although the current Mrs. Dashwood resisted, Elinor convinced her mother that it must be done, if only for the reason that her father had requested it and that it was very likely to be his last request. “Mama, please remember that John is the heir to the Norland estate, and I am sure Papa has some things he wishes to clarify. It may possibly come out in our favor,” a statement no one believed for a moment—not because of John—but because of his wife, the former Fanny Ferrars, a ferocious female given to fits of frugality on behalf of others. While they waited for the arrival of the heir, Mr. Dashwood’s wife and daughters kept vigil. After minutes lengthened into hours, an exhausted Mrs. Dashwood was encouraged to retire after she had been assured that they would call her if her husband gave any indication of giving up the ghost. After her departure, their father called his daughters to his bedside. “Dearest ones,” he began, “it had been my intention…” Marianne looked at Elinor. This was not good. Statements that began with “It had been my intention…” usually meant one thing—bad news was coming. “…my intention to increase the fortune I received from my uncle last year, but it seems that I am only to outlive him by a twelvemonth. Worst luck! As a result, your mother is to inherit only £7,000, and you girls are to have £1,000 each. But I intend to speak to your brother and tell him that it is my wish—my dying wish—that he take care of his sisters.” Thus, Elinor, Marianne, and Margaret placed their future in the hands of their brother, who they were not particularly close to and had no depth of affection for, and for his part, he was not inordinately fond of them either. It seemed to the sisters that it was now necessary to rely on the kindness of a brother who was nearly a stranger to them. No doubt, they would have to live in reduced circumstances, but as long as they remained at Norland Park, they would be able to maintain some semblance of their former life, that is, if their brother allowed them to stay. But nothing was certain. Elinor was sick at heart at the thought of her father dying, but she was the strong one in the family. After Papa went on to his reward, everyone would come to her for guidance and advice, and so she must look to what would happen after her father had passed. If all of them together were to inherit only £10,000 that would mean that they would have to live on £500 a year, a sum that would require drastic changes on the part of the Dashwood women. Considering that Mrs. Dashwood had never been a good manager of the household finances, Margaret was overindulged, and Marianne had expensive tastes, not only in clothes, but in accessories: sheet music, books, magazines, and baubles, it would not be an easy task. It was only the sensible Elinor who had few habits of expense, but she did have to eat. Because there had never been any reason for economy, no thought had been given to what anything cost. All of that was about to change. “Before Papa breathes his last, we must write down everything John promised our father that he would do on our behalf,” Elinor said with great urgency. “As I recall, the first thing Papa mentioned to our brother was that we were to be made comfortable. To my mind that would require our remaining at Norland Park. Do you agree?” Marianne indicated she did and wrote it down on a piece of paper. “After that, Papa suggested that each of his daughters was to receive £3,000 pounds apiece, as well as all of the china, plate, and linen from the Stanhill inheritance, the breakfast china, and all of the gifts given to Mama by her brother, Admiral Faraway.” “But all of those things you just mentioned already belong to us,” Marianne reminded Elinor. “Yes, of course. But it is important that we list all our assets,” which Elinor knew would make for a very short list. “From the coach house, we are to have a carriage and two horses, and I am sure we shall be allowed to take the gardening tools as we shall have need of them. It is not much, but if we are careful with our money, we will get on quite well or reasonably well or well enough.” But before the document could be signed, their father went the way of all flesh, and it did not seem like a good time to ask John to initial his part of the pact, a decision they would come to regret as Fanny Dashwood was soon upon them. It was Margaret who brought them the bad news that on the day after their father’s funeral Fanny was discussing their future with her husband, their brother, in the library, and although Margaret heard little of the conversation, what she did hear did not sound good at all. John had been so long gone from Norland that he had forgotten that there was a door between the study and library that had been papered over so that it was made to look like a part of the bookcase. From behind that hidden door, the three Dashwood sisters, who were down on their knees, ears to the keyhole, and with list in hand, listened as their future was being decided. “Three thousand pounds apiece!” Fanny exclaimed. “Please think again on this subject, my dear husband. Are we to rob our own son of so large a sum?” “It was my father’s last request,” John sputtered, now unsure of himself where a moment before he had been confident of his decision to share some of his inheritance. “It seems like the right thing to do, especially in light of the buckets of money that were left to me by my mother.” “There you have it, dearest. Your father already had one foot in the heavens when he spoke those words, and not being fully of this earth, he had made such an improbable request,” Fanny said, ignoring his comment about his late mother’s largess. “If he had been in his right senses, he would not have asked you to give away half of your fortune.” “Perhaps, if the sum were diminished by half,” John said. “That would be a prodigious increase to their fortunes.” Marianne, using one of Elinor’s drawing pencils, crossed through the £3,000, which was at the top of their survival list, and replaced it with £1,500. “It is not as much as we would like, but we can still manage on that,” Elinor whispered to her sisters. “But when you consider they are only half blood, I think you are being overly generous,” Fanny countered. “The question must be, what can you afford to do?” “I think I can afford £500 apiece,” John answered, quite sure that he was doing well by his sisters. “As they will each have £3,000 on their mother’s death, a very comfortable fortune indeed.” All of the color went out of Margaret’s face. “Is Mama dying?” the young girl whispered, and Elinor shook her head, which did nothing to reassure her little sister, who was now convinced she was to be an orphan twice over. Marianne marked through the £1,500 and penciled in £500. But then there was silence, and when John spoke again, the sum had been reduced to £100, and Marianne made the change. “My dear,” Fanny said in her most soothing voice, “I am convinced your father had no idea of giving them any money at all. I think he intended for us to look out for a small house for them, to help them move, and to send them presents of fish and game when in season.” Marianne crumbled the paper into a ball, and looking at Elinor, she said, “Start packing.”

Chapter 2

There being no small houses in the neighborhood, for the next six months, the Dashwoods remained at Norland Park. They had once been a family in this great manor house, but now they were its unwelcomed guests. On more than one occasion, the senior Mrs. Dashwood, feeling she was being ill treated by John and Fanny, had threatened to quit the house altogether. But it was the practical Elinor who pointed out that they had nowhere to go. Fortunately, a reprieve arrived in the form of a letter from Sir John Middleton, a relation who had a cottage on his property in Devonshire, which he was willing to lease to them for a reasonable sum. “What a generous offer, Mrs. Dashwood. Barton Cottage—what a delightful name. How can you not jump at it?” Fanny asked, eager to bid farewell to her in-laws. “When will you be leaving?” Elinor chose to answer the question on her mother’s behalf. “Fanny, it is a generous offer, and we shall leave as soon as we are packed. However, knowing the depth of your affection, I am sure you will wish to remain at Norland Park until we do depart so that you may bid farewell to your husband’s family.” A vision of three sobbing orphans and a weeping widow appeared before Fanny, and with something like panic in her voice, she revealed, for the first time, that her mother required her immediate presence in Town and that they would stay in London for twelve weeks. “We are frightfully sorry that John and I shall not be here on your last day,” Fanny said, injecting a crack into her voice for effect, “but you will be in our thoughts.” Within the week, John and Fanny Dashwood, with little Harry in tow, departed for town. “Well done, Elinor,” Marianne said in admiration of her sister’s handling of the unpleasant Fanny. “At least we will not have her looking over our shoulder as we pack.” “Oh, I have no intention of packing anytime soon. I specifically did not give Fanny a date when we would depart for Devonshire. I only said that we would leave as soon as we were packed, and barring any unforeseen events, for the next twelve weeks, we shall call Norland Park home.” In the ensuing weeks, with assistance from the servants, the Dashwoods moved all of their belongings out of the main part of the manor into the little used first floor of the west wing. In that part of the house were three bedrooms, a sitting room, and a small anteroom where the family would take their meals. Among those things moved into their new accommodations were a spinet for Marianne and a lap harp for Margaret, as they must have music as well as Elinor’s drawing supplies. Everything that was not immediately needed was sent ’round by water to Barton Cottage. The servants, who loved the Dashwoods, eagerly entered into the plan to keep the family on the property as long as possible without Fanny or John knowing that they were still there. An arrangement was made with Mrs. Sears, the housekeeper, that the family would pay for their meals or anything that might be purchased in the village for their personal use so that their expenses would not show up on the household accounts, and Mr. Roebuck, the steward, made sure that all the staff knew of the importance of secrecy. If word got out that the Dashwood ladies were still in residence, Mrs. John Dashwood would descend upon them like an avenging angel, and no one wanted that. As the weeks passed, life for the Dashwoods went on very much as it had always gone on. For the amusement of Elinor and Mrs. Dashwood, who were not musically gifted, Marianne played romantic ballads, accompanied on the lap harp by an equally romantic Margaret. But where her sisters excelled at music, Elinor was a master of the visual arts, and their corner of the house was decorated with her watercolors, oils, sketches, and painted screens. They were quite cozy in their own little world, and although they could not venture beyond the boundaries of the property, they were still content because they knew that in mid July they must leave Norland Park forever. Or at least they hoped it would be mid July. Elinor had been picking daisies for a centerpiece for the dining room table when she turned around to find a gentleman riding towards her on a beautiful bay. He was well formed, well dressed, and vaguely familiar. After dismounting, he walked with reins in hand towards Elinor. “Good afternoon, madam. I have come to pay a call on Mr. and Mrs. John Dashwood.” Elinor did not like this at all. If this man was a friend of her brother’s, then their goose was cooked. She needed time to think. “This is a gorgeous animal,” Elinor said, running her hands along its neck and shoulders. “I have a dappled gray, and I think I enjoy riding Snowball more than anything else.” “Riding is also my greatest pleasure, and Nellie here is an excellent filly and never nags.” Was that a pun? If so, it indicated that the man had a sense of humor. Maybe this was not as bad as she first thought. “As to Mr. and Mrs. Dashwood, they are in town and will not return for another three weeks,” Elinor said. “Rats! I did not know that. I have been visiting a friend in the North, and I have not been in correspondence with my sister.” “Your sister?” “Yes, I am Edward Ferrars, Mrs. Dashwood’s brother.” Oh, this was much worse than Elinor had thought! So the jig was up, and it was time to pay the fiddler. “Mr. Ferrars, if you go around to the front entrance, Mr. Roebuck, the steward, will see that you are properly accommodated.” “Excuse me for being so forward, but whom do I have the pleasure of addressing.” “I am Miss Elinor Dashwood, the eldest daughter of Henry and Jane Dashwood.” “I am pleased to make your acquaintance,” he said, bowing. “So this is your home, Miss Dashwood.” “This was my home.” Then Elinor confessed all: her father’s deathbed requests, the three sisters on their knees listening to John and Fanny disregard said requests, the departure of the John Dashwoods for London, their move to the west wing, Fanny thinking they were already in Devonshire, and the discovery of their secret by Mr. Edward Ferrars. “How horrible! It must have been very hard on you,” Edward said. “It was. By the time your sister and my brother had depleted most of our fortune and all of our hopes, it was probably upward of forty minutes that we had been on our knees.” “I was referring to the news, not your knees.” “Oh, of course, and I thank you for that,” a flustered Elinor answered. “The reason your sister is not here is because she did not wish to witness our departure, so she went up to town with John and Harry.” “It was probably too upsetting for her to say goodbye,” Edward suggested. Elinor remained silent. “Who am I kidding?” Edward said, shaking his head. “Fanny left because she had no wish to witness your distress over being put out of the only home you have ever known.” Looking at the manor house, he added, “But this is typical of Fanny, and it is truly cruel that no compromise could be reached. It’s not as if anyone would be squashed up if you remained. The whole village could fit in that house.” “Please do not concern yourself. We have found a place to live in Devonshire. We were to leave Norland Park in another three weeks, but, instead, we shall leave at once.” “You should not leave on my account. Please enjoy these vistas as long as possible, breathe this country air, taste the fruits of the soil, hear the lowing in the meadows, feel the wind upon your face—” Mr. Ferrars, excuse me, but it is very near to supper, and we would be pleased to have you dine with us. Perhaps, you could wax eloquent on Nature’s bounty while I set the table.” “I would be delighted.” Mrs. Dashwood, who was initially skeptical that anyone related by blood to Fanny could actually be nice, was taken in by Mr. Ferrars and his charms, as was young Margaret, who hung on the gentleman’s every word. Marianne was more guarded. It was only when Elinor acquainted her sister with Mr. Ferrars sensual description of the delights of Norland Park that she was won over, and she asked him to read from a book of poetry. Her disappointment at his delivery was evident. “Mr. Ferrars, excuse me, but you lack passion. Poetry demands that we lay bare our souls. In order to live life to the fullest, you must have passion, you must love deeply, you must feel pain.” “Miss Marianne, is it not possible for one to be passionate about something or someone but hold it within so that it will not be exposed to the harsh realities of life or the cruel remarks of others?” “Of course not,” Marianne said, while shaking her head vigorously. “Passion held within one’s self? It is a contradiction. If you are passionate, you announce it from the hilltops, not whisper it from the valleys.” “But there are things I am passionate about.” Edward stood up, and to the surprise of all, announced in a loud voice, “I love Nellie! There is no one like her in all the world. She is always obedient, comes when called, yields to a light hand, and never nags.” He looked at Elinor, who was enjoying the performance. “Say no more!” Marianne said, holding up her hand. “You are speaking of your ladylove as if she were a servant.” “No, I am speaking of her as if she were my horse.” Everyone, except Marianne, started to laugh. When it came to poetry, Marianne lacked a sense of humor. “You have no understanding of the beauty of these words.” She held up her book of Cowper as if the proof of his defect was contained within its pages. “I suspect you are engaged in some profession which has deadened your senses. Perhaps, you are a lawyer who looks at a sentence only as a means of conveying information.” “Marianne!” Mrs. Dashwood exclaimed. She did not like the tone of her daughter’s voice. “Please remember that Mr. Ferrars is a guest in our home—I mean, in his sister’s home. You merely have a difference of opinion. One is not superior to the other. As for his profession that is a personal matter.” “I do not mind answering her question, Mrs. Dashwood. I currently do not have a profession, but I hope to be in orders in the not too distant future.” “You intend to be a curate?” Marianne said, rolling her eyes. “If that is the case, then you will never experience passion.” “Possibly. But if it makes you feel any better, Miss Marianne, I have felt pain.” Edward said no more.

Chapter 3

The next morning, Elinor and Edward went for a walk down a cow path that led to a meadow where all of yesterday’s aforementioned pleasures could be experienced at one time. “Please forgive Marianne’s response to your statement that you wished to be in orders,” Elinor said, dodging cow patties and sheep droppings. “Considering your position in society, it is admirable that you would heed the call to so humble a profession, especially since the value of the living goes to the vicar and all the hard work is performed by the curate.” “I would find it deeply satisfying to be in a profession where I might do some good… What do you mean by hard work? Surely, we are not speaking of manual labor.” “No, of course not, that is, other than the gardening that is necessary to fill the larder, which is an absolute necessity because curates are paid such a pittance, and although you will keep your hands clean, it will fall to you to visit the sick in their homes and cottages.” “Do you think there will be a lot of that as I am not one for sickrooms? I get a bit queasy— the smells and all.” “Well, I imagine that would depend upon where your parish is located. If it is near a swamp or other such unhealthy environment, you may often be required to visit because there will be marsh fever, typhoid, cholera, you know, the usual, and, of course, anyone can become consumptive. Perhaps, your strong suit will be to visit with the elderly.” “Yes, of course, the elderly. Although I am not a natural conversationalist, I am a good listener. My own experience tells me that people who have lived a good many years do most of the talking.” “That is true. But be prepared to be shouted at. Older people usually suffer from some degree of hearing loss, and they do not realize how loud they are talking. My grandmother lived to be eighty-five, and she could set the dogs to howling when she got going,” Elinor said, chuckling. Edward nodded in agreement. “My grandfather had a bull’s horn that he would put up to his ear, and the grandchildren were told to shout into it. He, in turn, would shout back, although we had no such impediment. When Grandpa died, the horn went to my brother, Robert. I have often wondered why. I was rather fond of that horn.” “Were you very close to your grandfather?” “Definitely not. He was a crusty, cranky old man who had very little tolerance for children. He had the unsettling habit of grabbing his grandchildren by their sleeves or arms or whatever else he could get hold of, and if he wanted our attention, he would throw things at us. Fanny and I were quick enough to avoid being hit, but he scored direct hits on Robert on more than one occasion.” “Did he ever throw the horn at him?” “Yes. Ah, a light dawns. That is why Robert got the horn. You have provided an answer to a question that has always troubled me.” It was impossible for Elinor not to smile at the picture of a young Edward dodging missiles, and she pictured a hefty tome sailing through the air hitting Fanny. “With regard to your calling to go into the ministry…” “I do not know if I would refer to it as a calling. As a gentleman, I decided if I chose not to be idle that my preference would be to go into orders, but that was not smart enough for my family. They recommended the Army. That was a great deal too smart for me what with Napoleon fighting half of Europe. Although I liked the fashion side of the Navy, I was too old when the subject was first suggested. “The law was allowed to be genteel enough, it being noted that many young men, who have chambers in the Temple, make a good appearance in the first circles and drive about town in very knowing gigs. And despite Marianne’s statement that my soulless reading of poetry qualified me to be a lawyer, I had no inclination for the law as I do not like disputes. So idleness was pronounced by my mother to be the most advantageous for a young man of nineteen; therefore, I was entered at Oxford and have been idle ever since.” “But it is admirable that you choose not to be idle when your family is quite content to have you so. However, I am puzzled by your choice of the church. Is it possible that your interest is primarily in preaching to a congregation?” “I confess that is its charm. I love elevated pulpits,” Edward said, laughing. “At Oxford, I wrote a darn good essay, and when I could find someone to listen to me, I received compliments on its content and delivery.” “But there is a problem. Few congregants actually listen to sermons,” Elinor said. “When I am in church, I am always thinking about walking in the woods, or I draw sketches in my head, and when I look about me, I can tell that others are equally distracted. Of course, there are those who fall asleep and make no pretense of listening.” “I know. I do the same thing. Of course, I do not mean that I fall asleep, but I do daydream. It usually involves riding or making lists.” “You make lists? How interesting.” “Since I was a child, I have been in the habit of putting things into categories or arranging things alphabetically. I completely redid the library at Ferrars House and set up a card system with my tutor, Mr. Dewey, based on a decimal system, so that others could find any book in a matter of minutes. Unfortunately, no one in my family reads, so I am the only one who makes use of the library. But one cannot earn a living as a curator of a family library.” “What about politics for a profession?” Elinor suggested as if a candle had been lit in her head. “In the House of Commons, you get to make speeches, and even though no one listens to those orations either, you are well tailored, not unattractive, and would cut a fine figure.” “But who would my constituents be?” “The Ferrars family is well connected. I would imagine you would have your choice of rotten boroughs.” “Yes, that is certainly true, and although the Ferrars are Tories, once I was elected I would speak out in favor of reform and against rotten boroughs.” After pondering the idea for a minute, Edward continued. “Miss Dashwood, I think that is an excellent idea. I could introduce a bill regarding the expansion of the franchise to vote. Everyone is talking about that.” “That is the perfect one to start with,” Elinor agreed, “and you could get a lot of mileage out of that issue as it has no hope of passing the Lords.” “There are so many issues that need attention,” Edward said, and Elinor could see the wheels beginning to turn. “With all of these new inventions, things are changing rapidly. Signs need to be placed at busy intersections on inter-county roads. More gas lighting needs to be installed in London, and laws governing basic sanitation must be implemented. I shall also support the idea that no one be made to work on Christmas day. I am sure employers will not like it, but I shall become a champion of the working man. Although these matters are mundane and uninteresting, they are important.” “Mr. Ferrars, you have made an excellent start, and I can tell that you do like to make lists.” “Indeed, I do, Miss Dashwood. I am currently writing down, county by county, all the rivers in England.” “May I help?” Elinor asked eagerly. “Margaret has an atlas that we could consult.” Edward extended his arm, and Elinor entwined her arm in his. They made a very handsome couple as they walked back to the west wing of Norland Park.

Chapter 4

Edward and Elinor were constantly in each other’s company and walked or rode every path on the estate. While Edward admired Elinor’s talent for painting, Elinor commented on Edward’s ability to read maps and trace rivers. On rainy days, they worked on their county river project. With the waterways of Shropshire nearly completed, they were eagerly anticipating diving headlong into the rivers of Derbyshire. Each day, the looks shared between the two grew more telling, and because of these tender exchanges, everyone was puzzled as to why Edward did not ask Elinor if he could court her. Every morning, Elinor arose with the expectation that he would do that very thing, but by the time it had become necessary to pack all of their belongings, Edward had said nothing about a courtship. On the day before the Dashwoods were to leave for Devonshire, Edward asked Elinor if she would go for a walk in the park. When they had reached the top of the hill, affording a Constable-like view of the valley, he told her that she had deeply and profoundly touched his heart, but then he revealed that he was not free to form an attachment. “I wish I could tell you the reason, but I cannot,” he mumbled, greatly embarrassed that he had not said something earlier. Elinor was shocked. During their many hours together, Edward had given no indication that there was any impediment to their beginning a courtship. They were in love; there was no doubt about that, and both believed they were perfectly suited to each other. So what terrible secret could he possibly have that would prevent their being together? “Is it because you have a hidden deformity? A hump beneath your collar? An extra rib under your coat? A club foot encased in your boot?” Edward shook his head after each mentioned defect. “No, I am as you see me, perfectly whole.” “Have you committed a transgression under another name, and you fear arrest?” “No, that would be preferable as I would go to gaol and get it behind me. The difficulty involves another person and has been a millstone around my neck.” Edward turned his back to Elinor. He could not bear to see the look of hurt on her face. But Elinor was not ready to concede defeat. “Has the other party bound you to secrecy?” “No, on the contrary, that person would hire the town crier.” “In that case, I shall ask no more questions. There must be a good reason why you will not reveal a secret known only to two people, one of whom has not bound you to silence. I admire you for that. You will not betray yourself.” “Thank you, Elinor. It is how I am.” But when Elinor did not continue to press him, he said, “However, it is possible I am being too hard on myself.” Edward Ferrars then shared his terrible secret with the woman who had captured his heart. “I have been secretly engaged to a lady for the past four years.” Again, Elinor was stunned by this revelation. “You have been engaged for four years. Good grief! How did this come about?” “It is all due to my inability to conjugate irregular verbs.” “Your misery is due to an inability to conjugate to be, to do, to eat, to feel, to lie, to take—” “No, let me be clearer,” he said, interrupting. “I struggled with Latin verbs, and because of that I was sent to Plymouth to study with a Latin scholar, Mr. Pratt, who was uncle to Miss Lucy Steele. Miss Steele and I were thrown into each other’s company. We were both so young.” “But after four years, why have you not married?” “If I were to marry Lucy, my mother will disinherit me. Except for a small annuity, I rely on her for all my expenses. It would be necessary for me to live on less than £600 a year. I could barely keep Nellie in oats on such an allowance.” “If I understand you correctly, the only thing that will enable you to marry Miss Steele is your mother’s death? Is Mrs. Ferrars in poor health?” “To the contrary. She is in robust health, but that might change. According to the actuarial tables for a female living in England in the early 19th Century, Mama, who is in her late fifties, should be in decline. But please do not think I wish for my mother’s death. I am no mercenary.” “I am confused as to your plan to go forward with Miss Steele. You say that your mother would object to the match. May I ask what those objections would be?” “The first thing Mama would ask would be: ‘Who are her parents?’ followed by: ‘Is she an heiress?’ Since she has no rank in society and no money, I would be forbidden to marry. I would be cast into the wilderness, and my brother, Robert, would inherit all. I fear it is a hopeless business.” “Let us not throw in the towel just yet. Do you love Miss Steele?” “While I was in Plymouth, I thought I did. She was everything that was amiable and obliging and very pretty, too. I had seen so little of other women that I could make no comparisons and could see no defects, but now I know that it was merely a flirtation. However, she was generous with—” “Oh, I see,” Elinor said, surprised to find that Edward would take liberties with a woman. “No, it’s not what you think. I merely kissed her.” “You bound yourself to Miss Steele for all these years because of a few kisses?” “Actually, it was just the one kiss.” “One kiss! Well, Edward, you have sold your birthright very cheaply. Esau sold his birthright to Jacob, but at least he got a bowl of porridge for his trouble. It pains me to say it, but you have handled this affair quite badly. In the first two years, you could have cited immaturity as a reason to end the romance. The third year would have been more problematic, but doable if you found another suitor for her. But now you have been engaged for four years! And since I am sure she has lost the first bloom of youth, you feel obligated to marry her. I understand the difficulties. So there is only one thing to do.” “Yes, I know. I must marry her,” Edward said, hanging his head. “Oh, no! I did not mean that at all. What I meant was that we must find Miss Steele a husband.” “But how can we do that? She lives in Plymouth. But now that I think about it, there is a naval presence in the town. Perhaps, she can be encouraged to attend the dances the Navy hosts at some of the nearby halls.” “I shall not dismiss your suggestion out of hand, but if that were a possibility, I am sure Miss Steele would have thought of it herself. I mean, she has been waiting for four years to be a wife.” But Elinor had another idea in mind. “My family must leave Norland Park the day after tomorrow as Fanny will arrive shortly thereafter, and all evidence of our presence must be erased. We are to go to Barton Park in Devonshire where we will be in the society of Sir John Middleton and his mother-in-law, Mrs. Jennings, at Barton House. We must arrange for Mrs. Jennings, who I understand is a jovial woman much given to match making, to invite Miss Steele to her home so that I might work upon her.” “But does Mrs. Jennings even know Lucy?” “I am sure they are somehow connected. I would not be surprised if they were related by blood. I see that you are doubtful, but that is always what happens in these situations.” “So what is our plan, Elinor?” “When are you to see Miss Steele?” Edward’s shoulders slumped. “After visiting with my mother, I am to go to Plymouth. I visit Lucy twice a year, and time passes so quickly when something awful is waiting for you.” “Do not be disheartened. You should go to Plymouth and maintain the status quo, and I shall see what can be done in Devonshire.” Edward took Elinor’s hand and put it to his lips. “It seems that my future is entirely in your hands.”

Chapter 5

It was just as Elinor had predicted. In a morning’s shopping excursion to Exeter, Sir John Middleton and Mrs. Jennings encountered Miss Lucy Steele in the shops. After a brief conversation, it was learned that the two ladies were related. Despite never having laid eyes on her before, and having no proof of her elegance and gentility, Mrs. Jennings invited Miss Steele to Barton Park as soon as her present engagements at Exeter were over. As it turns out, Lucy’s engagements at Exeter instantly gave way before such an invitation. Elinor thought she would like Miss Lucy Steele. Any lady who could remain constant in her affections after four years, and with so little encouragement, must be an admirable creature. But she was not. Because of her modest situation, she had become quite adept at using everybody to her advantage and playing up to those who could improve her lot in life, and she had a most annoying habit of speaking in superlatives. Elinor knew her talents, and they did not include singing, but according to Lucy, Elinor’s vocal talent was second to none—until Marianne sang a solo, and then Marianne’s singing was second to none. Mrs. Jennings who was as plain as the day is long and of expanding girth was declared to be the most handsome woman of a mature age of Miss Steele’s acquaintance. Even Sir John rolled his eyes at that one. Elinor had said nothing of her plans regarding Edward to her mother or sisters, but without knowing it, Margaret had a part to play. While dining at Barton Park with Lucy Steele, the youngest Dashwood had let slip that Elinor’s heart had been touched by someone whose last name began with the letter F. After pretending to be embarrassed by such a revelation, Elinor admitted that she had been much in Mr. F’s company during his visit to Norland Park. It was not long before Lucy sought out Elinor. In fact, it was the next day when Lucy appeared unexpectedly at the cottage to invite Elinor to go for a stroll. While the two ladies walked towards Barton Park, Lucy asked her if she was acquainted with Mr. Edward Ferrars, and when Elinor said that she was, Miss Steele asked if she had ever met Edward’s mother.” “No, I have never seen Mrs. Ferrars.” “Then you cannot tell me what sort of a woman she is?” “No, I know nothing of her,” Elinor answered, giving Lucy no encouragement. If Edward and Lucy were to be separated, it must appear as if it had been resolved between the two of them. “I do not mean to be impertinently curious,” Lucy said. “I would rather do anything than be thought so by a person whose good opinion is so well worth having as yours, and I am sure I should not have the smallest fear of trusting you. Indeed, I should be very glad of your advice on how to manage an uncomfortable situation I find myself in. There is a reason for my curiosity about Mrs. Ferrars. She is certainly nothing to me at present, but the time may come when we may be intimately connected.” “Good heavens!” cried Elinor, “Are you acquainted with Mr. Robert Ferrars?” “I never saw him in my life. I am referring to Edward, Mrs. Ferrars’s older son and heir.” Lucy waited for Elinor’s response to such news, but there was none. “It was always meant to be a great secret. If I had not felt the greatest dependence upon your secrecy, I would never have mentioned it to you. Edward has the highest opinion of you and looks upon you quite as his own sister.” “How do you know he has the highest opinion of me?” That was not the question Lucy had been expecting, and so she ignored it. “Are you not a little bit curious as to how I know Mr. Ferrars?” After Elinor shook her head, Lucy ignored that as well. “He was one year with my uncle in Plymouth. I was unwilling to enter into an engagement, as you may imagine, without the knowledge and approbation of his mother.” “So then you are not engaged?” “Yes, we are engaged,” Lucy answered impatiently. “But you just said…” “I know what I said, but I was too young and loved him too well to be prudent. Though you do not know him as well I do, Miss Dashwood, you must have seen enough of him to be sensible that he is very capable of making a woman sincerely attached to him. Before leaving for Exeter, I saw him in Plymouth, and I was much affected. It is the same for him as he writes in wretched spirits.” Lucy showed Elinor an envelope addressed to her. “I am sure you recognize his hand.” “No, I do not. He has never written to me.” “Well then, do you recognize this?” and she took a miniature from her pocket. “To prevent the possibility of mistake, be so good as to look at this face. It does not do him justice, but you cannot be deceived as to the person who it was drawn for. I have had it above these three years.” “Three years?” “Yes, three years and we have been engaged for four.” “Four years! My goodness that is a long engagement.” “Our first care has been to keep the matter secret. I have no doubt in the world of your faithfully keeping this secret because you must know of what importance it is to us not to have it reach his mother for she would never approve of it.” “You say that Mrs. Ferrars is never to approve of your marriage, so I must confess that I am surprised to find you wish to continue a relationship knowing that his mother will withhold her consent. Never is a very long time.” “Yes, it is true that everything is in such suspense and uncertainty. We can hardly meet above twice a year. I am sure I wonder my heart is not quite broke.” Here Lucy took out her handkerchief. “Sometimes I think it would be better for us both to break off the matter entirely.” “I mean this kindly, Miss Steele, but if you were to ask for my opinion, I would advise you to break the engagement.” Elinor did mean it kindly. Because Lucy was pretty with a nice smile, she could understand why Edward had thought he was in love with the Lucy Steele of four years ago. But having spent some time in her company, Elinor could also understand why he wished to end the engagement. She was a conniving, selfish being, who, she suspected, imagined that Mrs. Ferrars would eventually be won over to the match. She began to wonder if Edward would have ever married her. “If Mr. Ferrars is waiting for his mother to… how shall I put this… die before marrying you, there is nothing to say that she will cooperate with such a plan. As a result, you may find yourself secretly engaged for another four years as I am told that Mrs. Ferrars has a hearty constitution.” “But if I were to break the engagement, Edward would be miserable.” “It is possible he will be miserable either way. From what you have said about Mrs. Ferrars, I believe she would disinherit Edward if he were to marry someone without her approval. Have you thought about the consequences of such an event? When he was at Norland Park, he mentioned that he has considered becoming a curate, but the living yields so little that you would be very poor. He also indicated he has an interest in politics, but he would have to be a Member of Parliament from a constituency that would pay his expenses. If they did not, then he would have to use his own money, and it is very expensive to live in London when Parliament is in session.” “Miss Dashwood, I respect your opinion, but let me assure you that is my intention to marry Edward Ferrars, the son of Mrs. Ferrars of Park Street, London, and I will wait as long as is required. Because Edward is a gentleman, I know he will honor his promise. As for Mrs. Ferrars, in life there are few certainties, but one of them is that we all must die.” “Yes,” Elinor agreed. “However, a watched pot never boils.”

Chapter 6

Two weeks after sharing her secret, Lucy Steele returned to Plymouth, and shortly thereafter, Edward Ferrars arrived at Barton Cottage from London. The Dashwoods were delighted to have Edward’s company. Although they appreciated everything that Sir John and Mrs. Jennings had done for them, visits to Barton Park had become something of a chore because there were no new tales to be told, with one major exception. Marianne Dashwood had fallen head over heels in love with Mr. John Willoughby, whose aunt lived on the nearby estate of Allenham. “So Marianne is passionately in love with this Mr. Willoughby,” Edward said as Elinor and he walked along the cliffs with a view of the water. “Yes, and he will break her heart, and she knows it. But she said that one must taste all the flavors of life, including the bitter ones, and I assured her that Willoughby would do an admirable job of hurting her. I do understand her need to suffer for love, but I am quite convinced she will experience more pain than even she could have ever imagined.” “You do not like him?” Edward asked. “I am not sure. Although he is very charming and is blessed with good looks and wit, in truth, I do not trust him, and it is not merely intuition or the fact that he puts Marianne in compromising situations that have all the neighbors talking. Our friend and neighbor, Colonel Brandon does not like him at all. I believe he knows something about Mr. Willoughby’s past, but will not say anything because he, too, is in love with my sister. It would seem as if he were trying to bring Willoughby low so that he might rise. But the Colonel is one of those people who stands in the shadows and pops out at just the right time to save the day, so I have not yet despaired of Marianne forming an attachment for him. If he can somehow manage to rescue her from some terrible situation or provide an indispensable service, she may yet love him. But it will take something dramatic on his part if he ever hopes to win her, and he would aid his cause if he did not speak of flannel waistcoats and rheumatism. Although he is only five and thirty, Marianne clearly sees him on the slippery slope to decrepitude.” “I am sorry to hear that your sister finds a man of five and thirty to be an antique because that means I have only eight years left to me before I too shall speak of aching joints and start wearing flannel waistcoats. But if you truly believe that Willoughby will break Marianne’s heart, then it is a good thing it will happen at such a young age as she will have ample time to recover, and such suffering will bring added meaning to her poetry. So I am both happy and sad for Marianne. But what I really want to know is, how are you, Elinor? Was it too awful being in Lucy’s company?” “I must be honest and tell you that I do not like Miss Steele, and once Miss Steele learned I was Miss Elinor Dashwood of Norland Park and that we had been in each other’s company, she did not like me either. I gather that you were all praise for me during your visit with her in Plymouth, and she suspects that something is going on between us.” “I spoke only the truth,” he said, smiling at her. “In order to get her to break our engagement, I pointed out the many balls in Plymouth that are frequented by available naval officers, many of whom have made their fortunes by capturing French privateers, and I mentioned the recently widowed Mr. Garth, who owns his own fishing boat and who catches a prodigious amount of herring.” “Perhaps, it was unwise to mention me by name,” Elinor said, not really meaning it. “It was unavoidable as every second question Lucy asked was about you. And I am not surprised to hear that Lucy guessed I have feelings for you. After her return to Plymouth, she penned a letter professing her most violent love and asked that I write to her, as soon as possible, a declaration of my deepest love for her. It was a strange request because I have never authored such a letter. I usually write about the weather or the lists I am compiling.” “Does she know about our lists for all the rivers in the different counties in England?” Elinor asked somewhat alarmed. Would he share their project with Lucy? “Of course not. That is ours and ours alone,” he said, reassuring her. “Lucy was never keen on making lists anyway. I once asked her to write down the name of any ship of the Royal Navy that came into Plymouth harbor, but she wrote down only five names. Really, Elinor! We are at war. There is no way there were only five ships in such an important port. It does show a lack of interest.” It was then that Elinor took a piece of paper out of her reticule and showed it to Edward. It was a list of all the named ships that had come into Barton Harbor since her arrival, and Edward was so overwhelmed by her gift that he took both of her hands in his and touched her forehead with his own. But he could do no more as he was engaged to another. “I have no doubt Lucy intends to hold you to your promise to marry her,” Elinor said after Edward had released her hands. “But, interestingly enough, she does not want to be the wife of a curate or of a politician. She intends to be the wife of Mr. Edward Ferrars of Park Street, London. She made that quite clear.” “But if we were to marry, it would guarantee that we would never live on Park Street. Surely, she is not hoping that my mother will die?” “Yes, in fact, she is, and she is prepared to wait your mother out.” “But I can assure you that my mother has no wish to oblige, and having just been in her company, I can tell you there is nothing on the horizon to suggest her imminent demise. It all seems hopeless.” He let out a huge sigh. “I have tried. I have really tried to right this ship. While I was in Plymouth, I dropped so many hints to Lucy that I was not in love with her and that it would be best for both of us to end the engagement. All for naught.” “What did you say?” “I mentioned to her that she and I have so little in common. I am a great reader; she despises books. She said that she would immediately take out a subscription at the circulating library, and for the first time, asked about my decimal system. I have a great curiosity about Nature; she does not like to leave the house. The next day, she begged me to take a walk with her along the beach at Plymouth. During our stroll, she gathered up a bucket full of shells, fighting off sea gulls at one point for a clamshell. I am not a man of fashion; her interest in clothes is marked. She promised that not a word about fabric or frills would ever pass her lips again, a promise she broke the next day. I repeatedly mentioned all of these things to her, but her response was Vive le difference! Elinor, please help me to find a way out of this mess.” “Of course, I shall. But we must come up with a new plan. It was foolish of me to think that I could find a husband for Lucy in Devonshire. So the first order of business is for me to figure out a way to go up to London, and I shall. And you must find a way to get Lucy to go to Town.” “But Lucy cannot afford to go to London,” Edward said, protesting. “She is in Plymouth without any resources.” “Do not believe for a minute that she does not have resources. She is as shrewd a person as I have ever met, and I am sure she will find a way. That is always how these things turn out, and once you are in London, you must introduce her to other gentlemen. Do you have any friends who will be in Town for the season?” “Elinor, I am sorry to be of so little help to you. Because I am in Town so infrequently, I have no friends there. The only single man I know is my brother Robert.” “Your brother?” After mulling over the thought of getting rid of Lucy by marrying her to Edward’s brother, she said, “Yes, he might do very well. Lucy wishes to marry above her station, and if she married Robert, she would achieve that. Does he have an income?” “Yes, at present, we both receive £2,000 per annum. However, he has expensive tastes, but unlike me, has not put aside any money. Also, he is a self-serving conniver who thinks only of himself.” “He sounds perfect for Lucy, and unless another gentleman comes forward, Robert will have to do, unless he, too, will be disinherited.” “My mother shows so little interest in him that I do not think she cares whom he marries.” Edward took Elinor’s hand in his. As they walked along the path, they talked of their future together and hoped that it would begin while Elinor still had her teeth and before Edward needed to purchase flannel waistcoats.

Chapter 7

As Elinor had predicted, the Dashwood sisters found a way to get to London, but Elinor was unhappy with how it came about. As expected, Marianne had ignored all her warnings about Willoughby and had thrown caution to the wind in giving him all of her heart and one of her side curls. Elinor had been a witness to the demise of the lock and had thought Willoughby had been excessive in removing a three-inch golden tendril, but there was nothing restrained about either of them. For weeks, all had gone swimmingly between the couple, and an offer of marriage was anticipated. But when Mrs. Dashwood, Elinor, and Margaret returned to Barton Cottage after a walk, they found Willoughby extremely distraught and Marianne drowning in tears. He explained that he was going up to London and had no intention of returning to Devonshire— ever. After looking at a sobbing and inconsolable Marianne, Willoughby walked to the door, and being a big man, he filled up its frame and blocked out the sun. “It is folly to linger,” he cried, literally. “I will not torment myself by remaining amongst friends whose society it is impossible for me to enjoy.” With that, he was gone. When Marianne was capable of talking, she explained that although the reasons for Willoughby’s sudden departure were vague, one thing was clear: There would be no offer of marriage. News of Marianne’s grief quickly spread to Barton Park, and Mrs. Jennings generously offered to take Marianne and Elinor to Town so that the younger Dashwood’s spirits might be lifted. Marianne, refusing to accept the finality of their parting, quickly agreed to the arrangement because that was where Willoughby was, and things could be set to rights in London. Elinor thought it unwise, but since she needed to go there as well, it would have to do. Again, it was exactly as Elinor had predicted. After Lucy had learned from Edward’s letter that Elinor and he would be in London at the same time, she had begged, borrowed, or stolen enough money to go to town. Shortly thereafter, Lucy called upon Elinor. It was a most unpleasant afternoon, and Lucy did everything except reveal that her hands were actually hooks and that they were firmly embedded in Edward Ferrars’s back. The season was at its height, and there was either a private or public ball every night. Disliking balls in general, Edward claimed no preference, but Elinor wrote to him telling him that it was now up to him to arrange for Lucy and Robert to be at the same ball on the same night. The evening arrived, and Lucy was introduced to Robert Ferrars by his brother. Unfortunately, no sparks flew on either’s part. However, Lucy did view her meeting with Robert as an opportunity to recommend herself to someone who might do her a bit of good in the future, and because Robert was a clothes horse, they spent a good portion of the evening speaking about fashion. While Robert and Lucy spoke of high waists and Hessian boots, Elinor and Edward went looking for another candidate for Lucy. But it was not to be as a drama was about to unfold. Marianne, having caught sight of Willoughby from across a crowded room, and in full view of everyone, had demanded to know why he had not answered the many letters she had written since her arrival in London. Willoughby remained silent and refused to look at her. But it was obvious, at least to Elinor, that he was somehow involved with the lady who was clinging to his arm and who looked at Marianne as if she were a sea monster. It was with great difficulty that Elinor convinced her sister to leave the ball, and the next day, Marianne received a letter from Willoughby telling her that he was soon to be married. On the heels of this heartbreaking disclosure, Mrs. Jennings arrived with more bad news. “A rumor is spreading like a wildfire that Willoughby has lost favor with his aunt and is no longer to inherit Allenham. Additionally, his debts are so great that he must wed an heiress as he has merchants following him about town, and so he is to marry Miss Blair, who is to inherit £20,000.” There was more, but Marianne left before Mrs. Jennings had finished. Following the ball, the wave of explanations for Willoughby being disinherited was at high tide, but none of these accounts proved to be true. The real reason was shortly to be revealed by Colonel Brandon who seemed not to mind his role as bearer of bad news. In a nutshell, Willoughby had seduced Colonel Brandon’s ward, who was at present living in the country and was about to be delivered of Willoughby’s child, and Mrs. Smith, Willoughby’s aunt, had found out about it. From whom Mrs. Smith had learned of it, the colonel did not say, but they were neighbors and friends. To make matters worse, Fanny Dashwood invited Elinor and Marianne to visit her townhouse at a time when Mrs. Ferrars would also be there, and Fanny, who had encountered Mrs. Jennings in the street, invited her as well. But it did not end there. Being a jovial sort, who believed strongly in the more the merrier, Mrs. Jennings requested that her recently-discovered cousin, Lucy Steele, be included in the invitation. The result: a dismal afternoon in which Mrs. Ferrars praised Lucy and criticized Elinor. Apparently, Fanny had succeeded in prejudicing her mother against Elinor, just for spite. Robert Ferrars put in an appearance, and Elinor was hopeful, for all of a minute, that they would form an attachment. But when Robert addressed Lucy, saying how pleased he was to see her again, no sparks flew. Apparently, both were fireproof. Although the afternoon was a total failure for Elinor, Lucy had been a great success with Fanny, and from that day on, the two ladies were constantly in each other’s company. Lucy was frequently invited to dine with the Dashwoods at their residence. It was even said that Fanny had given Lucy a few of her older gowns so that she might be more presentable whilst in her company. If it were true, then it was the first time Fanny had given anything to anyone. Edward did his best to throw Robert into Lucy’s path. In the drawing room, Edward always sat in a chair so that Lucy would have to sit on the sofa with more than enough room for Robert to sit beside her. But more often than not, Robert remained standing. While dining, Edward sat below the salt, encouraging Lucy and Robert to take the preferred seating near his mother at the head of the table. The result was that Lucy spoke to Mrs. Ferrars, while Robert conversed long distance with his brother. Edward, who truly was born with two left feet, encouraged some impromptu dancing and insisted that Robert and Lucy dance while Fanny played the spinet. Occasionally, the dancers would smile at each other, but it was not even worth mentioning in his daily reports to Elinor. Poor Elinor. Nothing had gone according to plan, and with Marianne dehydrated from crying, she began to fear that her sister might actually be in danger of dying for love. She wrote to Edward to tell him they would be returning to Barton Cottage and that she hoped he could make some progress with Lucy, as long as progress did not include actually marrying her. Upon hearing of Marianne’s distress, Colonel Brandon, who had stayed nearby in case his services were needed, offered to go with them to Devonshire. Because of the distance, it would be necessary for them to break their journey at Cleveland, the home of Mrs. Palmer, Mrs. Jennings’ daughter. Despite being in a weakened state, upon arrival at the Palmer’s manor house, Marianne insisted on walking in the gardens. As was her habit, she was caught in a downpour, was completely drenched, and required saving by Colonel Brandon, who proved the depth of his love by carrying Marianne a quarter mile to Cleveland. Things quickly went from bad to worse as Marianne developed a raging fever. As dire as things seemed, Marianne’s illness provided Colonel Brandon with an opportunity to be of service to the Dashwoods when he took off, in a most dramatic fashion, for Barton Cottage so that he might bring Mrs. Dashwood back to her possibly dying daughter. Thus, he was able to step out of the shadows ever so slightly, but nonetheless it was progress, that is, if Marianne lived. She did live, and after the danger of Marianne’s near-death experience had past, Elinor’s thoughts now turned to Edward in London. Since there was no way he could have known that they were at Cleveland and not Barton Cottage, she hoped there would be a letter waiting for her when they arrived home. As soon as Elinor entered the house, she quickly sorted through the post. There was no letter, and a fear gripped her heart. Without her there to buck him up, had Edward succumbed to Lucy’s insistence that he honor his promise to marry her?

Chapter 8

As the days stretched into weeks, Marianne’s heart healed with the help of an attentive Colonel Brandon, and her mother and sisters witnessed a remarkable transformation. The man who Marianne had declared to be a bore, too old, and lacking in any humor whatsoever had grown in her affection, and it was not because he was less boring as he was still quite capable of having his listeners doze off. Nor had he gotten any younger, and he certainly was not any funnier. It was because the colonel’s love for Marianne was so great that it had poured out of him and right into her. Although Elinor thought that any news about Edward would be better than no news, she was soon to be proved wrong. John, their servant, had been in Exeter on an errand where he had heard news that Mr. Ferrars had married. “I seen Mr. Ferrars myself, Ma’am,” John said, “or at least the back of him, this morning in Exeter, and his lady too, Miss Steele as was.” If Elinor had been as emotional as Marianne, she would have fainted dead away, but being made of sterner stuff, she went to her room where the amount of tears shed rivaled that of Marianne’s over her loss of Willoughby. But the marriage vows that had been exchanged by Edward and Lucy included the words, “until death do we part,” and so Elinor needed to move on. Hopefully, her heart would heal. Colonel Brandon’s joy at having secured Marianne’s affections knew no bounds, and he could not do enough for the Dashwood family. He had been so good as to send laborers from his estate to Barton Cottage to build a tree house for Margaret, who sorely missed her refuge at Norland Park. She was in her perch when she saw a horseman coming down the path, and she had no doubt who it was: Edward Ferrars. Margaret quickly climbed down the rope ladder and ran into the kitchen to share her news and was peppered with questions as to the rider’s true identity. “I am sure it is he,” Margaret insisted, “and, no, he is not in a carriage. He comes by horse and alone.” “How odd,” Mrs. Dashwood said. “Perhaps, he thought he should come without his wife as he feels an explanation is in order.” “Oh Lord, I hope not,” Elinor responded. “I am sure he would list all the reasons for his actions, and I do not think I could sit through it.” Edward was asked to join the four befuddled ladies in the parlor. After all niceties were observed, Elinor decided it was best to get this unpleasantness over with, and so she inquired after Lucy. “Is Mrs. Ferrars at Plymouth?” “At Plymouth?” he replied, with an air of surprise. “No, my mother remains in town.” “I meant,” Elinor said, taking up some work from the table so that he would not see her hands shaking, “to inquire after Mrs. Edward Ferrars.” Now, the gentleman looked completely flummoxed. “Perhaps you mean Mrs. Robert Ferrars,” he answered, looking at a quartet of uncomprehending faces. “You seem not to know that my brother is lately married to Miss Lucy Steele. They were married last week. But all of this was in my letters.” “What letters?” the four asked as one. “Excuse me, Mrs. Dashwood, there seems to be some misunderstanding. May I speak to Miss Dashwood alone?” As soon as the words were uttered, Mrs. Dashwood, Marianne, and Margaret were on their feet and out of the room. Elinor could neither move nor speak as a paralysis had set in, and when Edward joined her on the couch and took her hand, she felt nothing. “Elinor, I wrote you three letters from London. Have you not received any of them?” She shook her head. “I do not understand. I placed them in the front hall for Mr. Arnett, my mother’s butler, to have them posted.” And then he realized what had happened. “Oh, no! She couldn’t have. Not even my mother would stoop so low as to pilfer the post. Oh my dear Elinor, you knew nothing.” “Then you are not married?” she said, her frozen brain finally thawing. “No. Although I soon hope to be. But since you are in complete ignorance of what happened in London, I shall tell you from start to finish the whole of it because it is quite the story.” “In hopes that Lucy would end the engagement, the day after you left, I went to see her. I told her I would either be a curate or a politician, neither of which paid very much money, and that we would be poor. She shook her head and said that I was a gentleman and that gentlemen did not work. She then proceeded to tell me that she and my sister were now such good friends that Fanny looked upon Lucy as quite her equal. Nothing could dissuade her of the falsity of such a claim. I again reminded her that if my mother learned of our engagement, I would be disinherited. Therefore, if she wished to be married to a wealthy gentleman, I could not be her husband, and if I wished to be a curate or a politician, she would not be my wife, and that is how we left it. “The very next afternoon, shortly after I had arrived at my sister’s house, I heard such a wailing that I thought someone was seriously injured. I rushed into the drawing room only to find Lucy in a heap on the floor flooding it with tears. Behind her was Fanny slinging slurs and calling her vile names. I demanded that she stop, but then Fanny turned her fury on me. Ignoring Fanny’s oaths, I tried to assist Lucy from the floor, but she kept slapping away my hand and accusing me of being the source of all her misery. “It was then that Robert came in, and I pleaded with him for his assistance. Lucy agreed to Robert seeing her home as she would have nothing to do with me. But that was only Act I. “Act II was that I was summoned to appear before my mother. As I was still living at home, all that was required was for me to go from my bedchamber to the parlor. It was quite a scene. Apparently, my great sin was that I had attempted to bring someone so lowborn into the family, and because I had so little regard for the name of Ferrars, Mama would immediately visit her solicitor so that she might disinherit me. I told her she should do what she thought best and left with the intention of calling on Lucy to see how she was, but she was gone and no one knew to where. “A few days later, I received a letter from the family solicitor asking that I come to his office. There I was told that the estate had been irrevocably settled on my brother. I must confess to a certain amount of relief. I believed, correctly, that I was no longer engaged to Lucy, and at the same time, I was free of my mean-spirited mother and sister. And now for Act III, the finale. I received this from Lucy.” Edward removed a letter from his coat pocket and handed it to Elinor.

Dear Sir, Being very sure that I have long lost your affections, I have thought myself at liberty to bestow my own on another and have no doubt of being as happy with him as I once used to think I might be with you. Your brother has gained my affections entirely, and we cannot live without one another. We are just returned from the altar, but thought I would first trouble you with these few lines. It shall not be my fault if we are not always good friends. Your sincere well-wisher, friend, and sister, Lucy Ferrars

“What an extraordinary letter,” Elinor said, amazed at the cold calculation written therein. “Although my mother and I did not speak the whole time that all of this was going on,” Edward said, “I remained in her home. When it became necessary for me to take my leave, I could see that the full weight of what she had done had crashed down upon her. When Mama had settled the estate irrevocably on Robert, she had stipulated no exclusions in the document. So the first thing Robert did with the money was to purchase a special license so that he might marry a woman he knew Mama would not approve of, and in order to thumb his nose at me for being the elder favored son, he married my ex-fiancée. “It was then that my mother revealed to me for the first time that two months from now, when I am to turn twenty-eight, I will come into some money left to me by my grandfather which amounts to about £1,500 a year. Added to my savings of £3,000, it is certainly enough to marry on. So if you still want me, I am available.” Elinor fell into his arms, and Edward kissed her. The first kiss was sweet, and the second with a little more fire, but there was no third because the Dashwoods, who had been listening from the next room, came running in to offer their congratulations. And so all’s well that ends well. Worries about money that had plagued the family since Mr. Dashwood’s death were soon to disappear forever. Fanny, in a rage over her brother’s marriage to Elinor, demanded that every object belonging to the Dashwoods be immediately removed from Norland Park. Elinor and Edward returned to Sussex to sort through the many crates that contained gifts sent to Mrs. Dashwood by her world-traveling brother, Admiral Faraway. Not knowing the value of the contents, they sent for an appraiser from London and found, to their utter astonishment, that their collection included priceless Chinese porcelain, Greek amphorae, Egyptian papyrus drawings, Samurai swords, textiles from India sewn with gold thread, Americana, including a Paul Revere serving bowl, Peter Stuyvesant’s spare wooden leg, a wampum belt from the second to last of the Mohicans, and much much more. When the appraiser totaled the value of the collection, Mrs. Dashwood realized she was now set for life and that Margaret would be able to marry for love. Marianne wisely accepted Colonel Brandon’s offer of marriage. Where she had once sought passion, she now preferred kindness, and although she often thought of Willoughby after the colonel had fallen asleep, she knew she had married a good man. Despite her best efforts to conceal it, the colonel was aware that he loved his wife more than she loved him. Edward and Elinor married in the spring and settled very near to Marianne and Colonel Brandon. With the colonel’s backing, Edward became the mayor of the village of Delaford, and the highlight of his year was making speeches at the May Day and Harvest Festival celebrations from atop a platform. Their love for each other was evident to all who knew them, and their temperaments being so alike, they never fought and rarely quarreled, and thus they became the standard to which all lovers in their neighborhood aspired. Despite the passage of many years, Norland Park remained a source of fond memories for the Dashwood women, but Mrs. Dashwood, Elinor, Marianne, and Margaret had long since learned that it was not the manor house or its grounds that had been the source of their happiness, but the love and affection that had been nurtured within its walls.

THE END

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Mary Lydon Simonsen combines her love of history and the novels of Jane Austen in writing re- imaginings of Miss Austen’s work. She is the author of Searching for Pemberley and The Perfect Bride for Mr. Darcy which are available in bookstores and on line. Her third Pride and Prejudice inspired novel, A Wife for Mr. Darcy, will be available in July 2011. Also available, exclusively on-line, are Pride & Prejudice novellas, For All the Wrong Reasons and Mr. Darcy’s Angel of Mercy; a Persuasion re-imagining, Anne Elliot, A New Beginning; as well as her modern novel, The Second Date, Love Italian-American Style. The author lives in Arizona.

This story was previously published on fan fiction websites and my blog. However, many changes have been made since it first appeared in 2010, and it is no longer available on line.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

The characters and events in this book are fictitious or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and is not intended by the author.

Printed in the United States of America Published by Quail Creek Publishing, LLC [email protected] www.marysimonsenfanfiction.blogspot.com