Jane Odiwe - Willoughby's Return

“Mrs Brandon,” said Mrs Jennings at the volume of an actor's stage whisper, “I hate to be the one to tell tales, but Sir Edgar did let it slip that Lady Lawrence and the Comtesse have become quite estranged as a result. He has been quite out of his mind with worry about his wife; I believe she has been very ill. Sir Edgar says he is only thankful that Henry has come out of it reasonably unscathed. Broken hearts and young people are ever twinned, are they not, Miss Dashwood? Have you broken Mr Carey's heart irrevocably? Look, over there, he is gazing at you with such admiration, poor fellow. Give him a little more encouragement this evening and if you are not engaged to be married by the end of it, I shall not know my own mind!”

Margaret followed her pointing finger to the other side of the room where Charles, James, Emma, and Caroline were standing. It had not escaped Margaret's attention that Charles and Caroline seemed to have become very easy in one another's company. She noticed with glee that he was not staring in Margaret's direction after all, only into Miss Mortimer's eyes, which pleased Miss Dashwood exceedingly. Emma Carey was waving at her to join them. “Excuse me, Mrs Jennings, I must go to my friends,” she said and left before anyone could make any attempt to stop her.

“Where is the spurned suitor?” questioned Marianne, looking about for Henry.

“Sir Edgar said he's been out with friends all day. I expect they are trying to cheer him up. I don’t know what the world is coming to, Mrs Brandon. I never saw a pair so in love and now look at what has happened. I don’t understand these young people nowadays with their fickle hearts. Not like their elders, steadfast and true, eh, Mrs Brandon?”

“No, quite,” muttered Marianne, who could not bring herself to look Mrs Jennings in the eye.

“When is Brandon coming back to London?” Mrs Jennings was scrutinising Marianne very carefully, waiting for her response. She lowered her voice again. “How is the little girl? Is she gaining strength? I have not heard from the Colonel lately but I daresay he has been keeping you informed of her progress. I do hope he comes back soon. You are still not looking yourself, my dear.”

Marianne did not have to answer any questions after all, it seemed. Mrs Jennings was quite happy to provide what she surmised were the answers herself. All Marianne had to do was nod in the right places. It was true; she was not feeling quite right, though she would never admit it to Mrs Jennings. She felt tired and lacking in energy. Her spirits were not high and she was worn down with trying to appear as if all was well in her world. There was a gnawing tension in the pit of her stomach, which increased every time her thoughts turned to Mr Willoughby. When she saw him standing by the door with Henry Lawrence, her fears increased.

Margaret was delighted to see Henry even though she knew she could not give away her feelings. It was almost too much to bear pretending to be civil with barely a smile for him and having to pass on in the crowd, talking to others with whom she had no wish to converse. So she was delighted when she received a message from Henry delivered by Mr Willoughby. Taking her to one side, he whispered into her hair that Henry wished to meet her on the floor above at the top of the stairs towards the other end of the house. She looked up at Willoughby in surprise but a simple gesture raising his finger to his lips was enough to keep her silence. Almost running out of the room with excitement, Margaret forced herself to walk slowly away. With such a crush of people, it was easy to disappear. Out in the dim corridor she rushed forward into the darkness of the upper staircase filled with anticipation and longing. Henry was waiting, stepping out of the shadows to take her hand. They ran, laughing as they went, secure in the knowledge that everyone was downstairs.

Henry stopped before a door. “This is my room,” he whispered, turning the handle to reveal a spacious chamber, and ushered Margaret inside. Marianne did not know what to make of the scene she had just witnessed. Indeed, her astonishment was turning into incredulity. Watching Mr Willoughby whispering into her sister's hair and witnessing the exchange of cognisant looks between them had given her quite a shock and much cause for concern. Now they had both disappeared. Marianne's mind searched for an answer, but the only possible scenario she could devise was not one she could clarify. Her thoughts kept turning to Margaret and her solitary walks and those confessions made long ago of an infatuation with the man Marianne alone had thought possessed her soul. No, it was too ridiculous. There must be some other explanation. All she had to do was find Margaret and everything would be understood.

“Mrs Brandon, how charming you look this evening, does she not, Mr Ferrars?” Lucy asked her husband. Barring the way with firm resolution stood Mrs Ferrars. Marianne would have liked to pass by, but it was impossible and she certainly did not want Lucy to know that her sister was nowhere to be found.

“You must be missing your dear husband so much. Didn’t I say, Mr Ferrars, how much Mrs Brandon must have been pining for her spouse?”

“I cannot recollect anything of the sort, Lucy. But then I daresay I don’t attend to half of what you say. Were you just talking of Colonel Brandon?” Marianne watched him preen himself. Without casting an eye over either lady, his full attention was on his reflection in the looking glass on the opposite side of the room.

“Yes, of course, Mr Ferrars,” Lucy cried in exasperation. “I do wish you’d pay attention. Colonel Brandon has been away on business but he has been gone for three weeks; or is it more like a month, dear Mrs Brandon? You must be so lonely. And especially with him not being here to help you when you sprained your ankle. It's a good job you have other friends to keep you company.”

“I am fortunate indeed,” Marianne managed to say but did not fail to catch Lucy's expression.

“Mr Willoughby has been a friend of your family for a long time, has he not, Mrs Brandon?” She lowered her voice before announcing, “It must be of some comfort to you and your husband that difficult scenes from the past have not stood in the way of true friendship. But I see what you are thinking, Mrs Brandon. Perhaps not everyone might understand your carrying on such a friendship whilst your husband is away. Be assured, my dear, I am as silent as the grave.” Patting Marianne's arm as if to reassure her she added, “Well, I daresay I am very discreet but I cannot talk for others. Take care, my dear, I should not like to see gossip and false talk come of such a harmless episode. Come, Mr Ferrars, you promised me a dance and I’m jolly well going to get one.” They left, leaving Marianne staring after her, quite ready to burst into tears.

Henry and Margaret were sitting on the window seat hidden between wooden shutters and long velvet curtains.

“This was such a wonderful idea, Henry.”

“I could not spend all evening without speaking to you or touching you,” Henry whispered, taking her hand to plant a kiss. “Besides, I have something I must tell you. I don’t know what I am to do about it yet; or even if I can find a way out but…”

Henry broke off with such a look of concern on his countenance that Margaret was instantly alarmed.

“What is it, Henry? Oh, please do not look like that, you are truly frightening me.”

“You must promise not to be too upset when I tell you. There are more problems for us to face, but I hope I can find a way to overcome them.”

“Tell me, Henry, I can endure anything so long as I can be with you.”

“That is part of the predicament I find myself in, dearest Margaret. My mother's attempt to cheer me up involves plans to have me sent away to further my education. We will no longer be able to see one another.”