Sense and Sensibility (The Wild and Wanton Edition) (35 page)

Every qualification is raised at times, by the circumstances of the moment, to more than its real value; and she was sometimes worried down by officious condolence to rate good-breeding as more indispensable to comfort than good-nature.

Lady Middleton expressed her sense of the affair about once every day, or twice, if the subject occurred very often, by saying, “It is very shocking, indeed!” and by the means of this continual though gentle vent, was able not only to see the Miss Dashwoods from the first without the smallest emotion, but very soon to see them without recollecting a word of the matter; and having thus supported the dignity of her own sex, and spoken her decided censure of what was wrong in the other, she thought herself at liberty to attend to the interest of her own assemblies, and therefore determined (though rather against the opinion of Sir John) that as Mrs. Willoughby would at once be a woman of elegance and fortune, to leave her card with her as soon as she married.

Colonel Brandon’s delicate, unobtrusive enquiries were never unwelcome to Miss Dashwood. He had abundantly earned the privilege of intimate discussion of her sister’s disappointment, by the friendly zeal with which he had endeavoured to soften it, and they always conversed with confidence. His chief reward for the painful exertion of disclosing past sorrows and present humiliations, was given in the pitying eye with which Marianne sometimes observed him, and the gentleness of her voice whenever (though it did not often happen) she was obliged, or could oblige herself to speak to him.
These
assured him that his exertion had produced an increase of good-will towards himself, and
these
gave Elinor hopes of its being farther augmented hereafter; but Mrs. Jennings, who knew nothing of all this, who knew only that the Colonel continued as grave as ever, and that she could neither prevail on him to make the offer himself, nor commission her to make it for him, began, at the end of two days, to think that, instead of Mid-summer, they would not be married till Michaelmas, and by the end of a week that it would not be a match at all. The good understanding between the Colonel and Miss Dashwood seemed rather to declare that the honours of the mulberry-tree, the canal, and the yew arbour, would all be made over to
her
; and Mrs. Jennings had, for some time ceased to think at all of Mrs. Ferrars.

• • •

As he watched his new wife timidly undress on their wedding night, John Willoughby hardly knew what his life had become. It was true that he’d gotten that girl Eliza in trouble and that his aunt had sent him away once she’d learnt of it, claiming she was wrong to have allowed him take his girls to Allenham and that she did not wish to be responsible for his bestowing a similar fate upon that sweet, unassuming Marianne Dashwood. And it was also true that after being banished from Allenham he’d come to London with the goal of securing an advantageous marriage before the rumors of what he’d done spread too far. Those were the choices he’d made, and he could not take them back. However, it was an even greater truth that he loved Marianne, and had all things been equal he would much prefer to be sharing a marriage bed with her instead of Miss Grey — or, he supposed, Mrs. Willoughby. The thought turned his stomach.

He was certain Marianne had spoiled him for all other women. The Willoughby of years past would be tearing the clothes off the beautiful young woman in front of him with reckless abandon. But Marianne had changed him. He had little interest in his new wife, and viewed the night before him as more a chore to be completed than anything else.

But Willoughby was married now, he thought resignedly, and consummate his marriage he must.

Mrs. Willoughby dropped her dress, the fabric pooling around her ankles, and stood beside the bed in her undergarments. “What do I do now?” she asked, her voice quivering with nerves.

The question pulled Willoughby from his reticence, and he came back to himself. What was he thinking? He may not love this woman, but surely that did not mean he shouldn’t indulge in a bit of fun with her to ease his sorrows? She was clearly eager to learn.

“Remove your undergarments,” he directed Mrs. Willoughby from his place on the bed where he lay fully clothed, his hands behind his head. “But leave your shoes on.” They were her wedding shoes, and had a bit of a heel, which made her long, slender legs appear even longer and slenderer. He enjoyed the effect.

Mrs. Willoughby did as he asked, and stood before him, bare, except for her feet. “Turn around. Slowly.” He surveyed her carefully as she spun, and found he liked what he saw. Her breasts were large — even larger than Marianne’s — and her nipples were perfectly round and pink. “Massage your breasts,” he told her.

She looked unsure, but obeyed, and soon her nipples were firm and erect.

“Do you like how that feels?” he asked. She nodded, blushing, and he could not help himself any longer — he crawled across the bed and laid her down, taking her enticing mounds into his mouth. She moaned in response, and he smiled to himself, pleasantly surprised that he’d managed to acquire a bride who was not only wealthy, but unafraid to experience pleasure in the bedroom. Perhaps this arrangement would not be so terrible after all.

As his mouth indulged her smooth, rounded peaks, his hands travelled farther below, and he threaded his fingers through the curls between her legs as he worked his way slowly to her centre. She gasped at his touch, and her body froze.

“Relax, my darling,” he murmured against her breast. “I must make you ready for me. Have you never touched yourself down here before?”

“Only to wash,” she whispered.

Willoughby chuckled. “Just try to relax. You will be fine.” He teased her tiny bud with gentle flicks of his thumb, and she gradually began to spread her legs for him, allowing him further entry. As he continued to tease her, he tested her opening and found her growing wetter. He slid one finger inside — she was so narrow, so tight, so inviting, that he suddenly wanted her more than he’d ever thought he would.

He quickly disrobed and then settled himself between her thighs. “Are you ready for me, Mrs. Willoughby?” he growled with need.

She nodded, though her eyes were squeezed shut, no doubt from nerves. Marianne had never been afraid of him, even during their first time. She had always been so willing, so ravenous for his touch.

“Open your eyes,” Willoughby told his wife. She did as she was told, and again he acknowledged his good fortune. He enjoyed a woman who only wanted to please him. Marianne had been the best he’d ever had, as not only was she adventurous and eager, she enjoyed it all as greatly as he did. Mrs. Willoughby clearly wasn’t of that caliber, but then, who was, apart from his beloved Marianne? At least Mrs. Willoughby was willing. He supposed that alone was more than he could ask for. And, on the other hand, it should also be acknowledged that he was a man who preferred taking charge in situations such as these. For all the love he held for Marianne, he still hadn’t ever felt it necessary to give in to her requests and attempts at direction during their couplings. He was the man;
he
was the one who dictated what they would and would not do. And he was quite certain that Mrs. Willoughby would be just fine with that arrangement.

Once her eyes were on him, Willoughby thrust himself inside her. She cried out in pain, but he’d been down this road enough to know the pain would pass. “I know, my dear, I know,” he gave her his usual line. “This happens the first time. Just try to relax. It will get better.”

He pulled out and then pushed in once more. She felt so good that his mind was soon blank of anything except the pleasure coursing through his body. He rocked and thrust, and soon came to completion within her — and for the first time in his life, he did not have to feel guilty about having done it. She was his wife — he was finally
allowed
to claim her in this way.

Though Willoughby had never given much attention to the rules of society and tended to do whatever he pleased, even he had to admit, this newfound freedom came with a righteous sense of power.

He lay down beside his wife, and suckled her breast once more. He would never love her as he loved Marianne, but he supposed she was good enough. And she was all his.

• • •

Early in February, within a fortnight from the receipt of Willoughby’s letter, Elinor had the painful office of informing her sister that he was married. She had taken care to have the intelligence conveyed to herself, as soon as it was known that the ceremony was over, as she was desirous that Marianne should not receive the first notice of it from the public papers, which she saw her eagerly examining every morning.

She received the news with resolute composure; made no observation on it, and at first shed no tears; but after a short time they would burst out, and for the rest of the day, she was in a state hardly less pitiable than when she first learnt to expect the event.

The Willoughbys left town as soon as they were married; and Elinor now hoped, as there could be no danger of her seeing either of them, to prevail on her sister, who had never yet left the house since the blow first fell, to go out again by degrees as she had done before.

About this time the two Miss Steeles, lately arrived at their cousin’s house in Bartlett’s Buildings, Holborn, presented themselves again before their more grand relations in Conduit and Berkeley Streets; and were welcomed by them all with great cordiality.

Elinor only was sorry to see them. Their presence always gave her pain, and she hardly knew how to make a very gracious return to the overpowering delight of Lucy in finding her
still
in town.

“I should have been quite disappointed if I had not found you here
still
,” said she repeatedly, with a strong emphasis on the word. “But I always thought I
should
I was almost sure you would not leave London yet awhile; though you
told
me, you know, at Barton, that you should not stay above a
month.
But I thought, at the time, that you would most likely change your mind when it came to the point. It would have been such a great pity to have went away before your brother and sister came. And now to be sure you will be in no
hurry
to be gone. I am amazingly glad you did not keep to
your word.
”

Elinor perfectly understood her, and was forced to use all her self-command to make it appear that she did
not.

“Well, my dear,” said Mrs. Jennings, “and how did you travel?”

“Not in the stage, I assure you,” replied Miss Steele, with quick exultation; “we came post all the way, and had a very smart beau to attend us. Dr. Davies was coming to town, and so we thought we’d join him in a post-chaise; and he behaved very genteelly, and paid ten or twelve shillings more than we did.”

“Oh, oh!” cried Mrs. Jennings; “very pretty, indeed! and the Doctor is a single man, I warrant you.”

“There now,” said Miss Steele, affectedly simpering, “everybody laughs at me so about the Doctor, and I cannot think why. My cousins say they are sure I have made a conquest; but for my part I declare I never think about him from one hour’s end to another. ‘Lord! here comes your beau, Nancy,’ my cousin said t’other day, when she saw him crossing the street to the house. My beau, indeed! said I — I cannot think who you mean. The Doctor is no beau of mine.”

“Aye, aye, that is very pretty talking — but it won’t do — the Doctor is the man, I see.”

“No, indeed!” replied her cousin, with affected earnestness, “and I beg you will contradict it, if you ever hear it talked of.”

Mrs. Jennings directly gave her the gratifying assurance that she certainly would
not
, and Miss Steele was made completely happy.

“I suppose you will go and stay with your brother and sister, Miss Dashwood, when they come to town,” said Lucy, returning, after a cessation of hostile hints, to the charge.

“No, I do not think we shall.”

“Oh, yes, I dare say you will.”

Elinor would not humour her by farther opposition.

“What a charming thing it is that Mrs. Dashwood can spare you both for so long a time together!”

“Long a time, indeed!” interposed Mrs. Jennings. “Why, their visit is but just begun!”

Lucy was silenced.

“I am sorry we cannot see your sister, Miss Dashwood,” said Miss Steele. “I am sorry she is not well — ” for Marianne had left the room on their arrival.

“You are very good. My sister will be equally sorry to miss the pleasure of seeing you; but she has been very much plagued lately with nervous head-aches, which make her unfit for company or conversation.”

“Oh, dear, that is a great pity! but such old friends as Lucy and me! — I think she might see
us
; and I am sure we would not speak a word.”

Elinor, with great civility, declined the proposal. Her sister was perhaps laid down upon the bed, or in her dressing gown, and therefore not able to come to them.

“Oh, if that’s all,” cried Miss Steele, “we can just as well go and see
her.
”

Elinor began to find this impertinence too much for her temper; but she was saved the trouble of checking it, by Lucy’s sharp reprimand, which now, as on many occasions, though it did not give much sweetness to the manners of one sister, was of advantage in governing those of the other.

After some opposition, Marianne yielded to her sister’s entreaties, and consented to go out with her and Mrs. Jennings one morning for half an hour. She expressly conditioned, however, for paying no visits, and would do no more than accompany them to Gray’s in Sackville Street, where Elinor was carrying on a negotiation for the exchange of a few old-fashioned jewels of her mother.

When they stopped at the door, Mrs. Jennings recollected that there was a lady at the other end of the street on whom she ought to call; and as she had no business at Gray’s, it was resolved, that while her young friends transacted their’s, she should pay her visit and return for them.

On ascending the stairs, the Miss Dashwoods found so many people before them in the room, that there was not a person at liberty to tend to their orders; and they were obliged to wait. All that could be done was, to sit down at that end of the counter which seemed to promise the quickest succession; one gentleman only was standing there, and it is probable that Elinor was not without hope of exciting his politeness to a quicker dispatch. But the correctness of his eye, and the delicacy of his taste, proved to be beyond his politeness. He was giving orders for a toothpick-case for himself, and till its size, shape, and ornaments were determined, all of which, after examining and debating for a quarter of an hour over every toothpick-case in the shop, were finally arranged by his own inventive fancy, he had no leisure to bestow any other attention on the two ladies, than what was comprised in three or four very broad stares; a kind of notice which served to imprint on Elinor the remembrance of a person and face, of strong, natural, sterling insignificance, though adorned in the first style of fashion.