Sense and Sensibility (The Wild and Wanton Edition) (44 page)

Elinor’s astonishment at this commission could hardly have been greater, had the Colonel been really making her an offer of his hand. The preferment, which only two days before she had considered as hopeless for Edward, was already provided to enable him to marry; — and
she
, of all people in the world, was fixed on to bestow it! — Her emotion was such as Mrs. Jennings had attributed to a very different cause; — but whatever minor feelings less pure, less pleasing, might have a share in that emotion, her esteem for the general benevolence, and her gratitude for the particular friendship, which together prompted Colonel Brandon to this act, were strongly felt, and warmly expressed. She thanked him for it with all her heart, spoke of Edward’s principles and disposition with that praise which she knew them to deserve; and promised to undertake the commission with pleasure, if it were really his wish to put off so agreeable an office to another. But at the same time, she could not help thinking that no one could so well perform it as himself. It was an office in short, from which, unwilling to give Edward the pain of receiving an obligation from
her
, she would have been very glad to be spared herself; but Colonel Brandon, on motives of equal delicacy, declining it likewise, still seemed so desirous of its being given through her means, that she would not on any account make farther opposition. Edward, she believed, was still in town, and fortunately she had heard his address from Miss Steele. She could undertake therefore to inform him of it, in the course of the day. After this had been settled, Colonel Brandon began to talk of his own advantage in securing so respectable and agreeable a neighbour, and
then
it was that he mentioned with regret, that the house was small and indifferent; an evil which Elinor, as Mrs. Jennings had supposed her to do, made very light of, at least as far as regarded its size.

“The smallness of the house,” said she, “I cannot imagine any inconvenience to them, for it will be in proportion to their family and income.”

By which the Colonel was surprised to find that
she
was considering Mr. Ferrars’s marriage as the certain consequence of the presentation; for he did not suppose it possible that Delaford living could supply such an income, as anybody in his style of life would venture to settle on, and he said so.

“This little rectory
can
do no more than make Mr. Ferrars comfortable as a bachelor; it cannot enable him to marry. I am sorry to say that my patronage ends with this; and my interest is hardly more extensive. If, however, by an unforeseen chance it should be in my power to serve him farther, I must think very differently of him from what I now do, if I am not as ready to be useful to him then as I sincerely wish I could be at present. What I am now doing indeed, seems nothing at all, since it can advance him so little towards what must be his principal, his only object of happiness. His marriage must still be a distant good; — at least, I am afraid it cannot take place very soon.”

Such was the sentence which, when misunderstood, so justly offended the delicate feelings of Mrs. Jennings; but after this narration of what really passed between Colonel Brandon and Elinor, while they stood at the window, the gratitude expressed by the latter on their parting, may perhaps appear in general, not less reasonably excited, nor less properly worded than if it had arisen from an offer of marriage.

“Well, Miss Dashwood,” said Mrs. Jennings, sagaciously smiling, as soon as the gentleman had withdrawn, “I do not ask you what the Colonel has been saying to you; for though, upon my honour, I
tried
to keep out of hearing, I could not help catching enough to understand his business. And I assure you I never was better pleased in my life, and I wish you joy of it with all my heart.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” said Elinor. “It is a matter of great joy to me; and I feel the goodness of Colonel Brandon most sensibly. There are not many men who would act as he has done. Few people who have so compassionate a heart! I never was more astonished in my life.”

“Lord! my dear, you are very modest. I an’t the least astonished at it in the world, for I have often thought of late, there was nothing more likely to happen.”

“You judged from your knowledge of the Colonel’s general benevolence; but at least you could not foresee that the opportunity would so very soon occur.”

“Opportunity!” repeated Mrs. Jennings — “Oh! as to that, when a man has once made up his mind to such a thing, somehow or other he will soon find an opportunity. Well, my dear, I wish you joy of it again and again; and if ever there was a happy couple in the world, I think I shall soon know where to look for them.”

“You mean to go to Delaford after them I suppose,” said Elinor, with a faint smile.

“Aye, my dear, that I do, indeed. And as to the house being a bad one, I do not know what the Colonel would be at, for it is as good a one as ever I saw.”

“He spoke of its being out of repair.”

“Well, and whose fault is that? why don’t he repair it? who should do it but himself?”

They were interrupted by the servant’s coming in to announce the carriage being at the door; and Mrs. Jennings immediately preparing to go, said —

“Well, my dear, I must be gone before I have had half my talk out. But, however, we may have it all over in the evening; for we shall be quite alone. I do not ask you to go with me, for I dare say your mind is too full of the matter to care for company; and besides, you must long to tell your sister all about it.”

Marianne had left the room before the conversation began.

“Certainly, ma’am, I shall tell Marianne of it; but I shall not mention it at present to any body else.”

“Oh! very well,” said Mrs. Jennings rather disappointed. “Then you would not have me tell it to Lucy, for I think of going as far as Holborn to-day.”

“No, ma’am, not even Lucy if you please. One day’s delay will not be very material; and till I have written to Mr. Ferrars, I think it ought not to be mentioned to any body else. I shall do
that
directly. It is of importance that no time should be lost with him, for he will of course have much to do relative to his ordination.”

This speech at first puzzled Mrs. Jennings exceedingly. Why Mr. Ferrars was to have been written to about it in such a hurry, she could not immediately comprehend. A few moments’ reflection, however, produced a very happy idea, and she exclaimed —

“Oh, ho! I understand you. Mr. Ferrars is to be the man. Well, so much the better for him. Ay, to be sure, he must be ordained in readiness; and I am very glad to find things are so forward between you. But, my dear, is not this rather out of character? Should not the Colonel write himself? Sure, he is the proper person.”

Elinor did not quite understand the beginning of Mrs. Jennings’s speech, neither did she think it worth inquiring into; and therefore only replied to its conclusion.

“Colonel Brandon is so delicate a man, that he rather wished any one to announce his intentions to Mr. Ferrars than himself.”

“And so
you
are forced to do it. Well
that
is an odd kind of delicacy! However, I will not disturb you (seeing her preparing to write.) You know your own concerns best. So good-bye, my dear. I have not heard of any thing to please me so well since Charlotte was brought to bed.”

And away she went; but returning again in a moment —

“I have just been thinking of Betty’s sister, my dear. I should be very glad to get her so good a mistress. But whether she would do for a lady’s maid, I am sure I can’t tell. She is an excellent housemaid, and works very well at her needle. However, you will think of all that at your leisure.”

“Certainly, ma’am,” replied Elinor, not hearing much of what she said, and more anxious to be alone, than to be mistress of the subject.

How she should begin — how she should express herself in her note to Edward, was now all her concern. The particular circumstances between them made a difficulty of that which to any other person would have been the easiest thing in the world; but she equally feared to say too much or too little, and sat deliberating over her paper, with the pen in her hand, till broken in on by the entrance of Edward himself.

He had met Mrs. Jennings at the door in her way to the carriage, as he came to leave his farewell card; and she, after apologising for not returning herself, had obliged him to enter, by saying that Miss Dashwood was above, and wanted to speak with him on very particular business.

Elinor had just been congratulating herself, in the midst of her perplexity, that however difficult it might be to express herself properly by letter, it was at least preferable to giving the information by word of mouth, when her visitor entered, to force her upon this greatest exertion of all. Her astonishment and confusion were very great on his so sudden appearance. They had not been alone together in so long a time, and even after everything that had passed since their hasty parting at Barton, she could not ignore the tingling flush that worked its way up her body at the sight of him.

But she also had not seen him before since his engagement became public, and therefore not since his knowing her to be acquainted with it; which, with the consciousness of what she had been thinking of, and what she had to tell him, made her feel particularly uncomfortable for some minutes. He too was much distressed; and they sat down together in a most promising state of embarrassment. Just as the last time he had come to visit her, his reaction to being in her presence was immediate. His entire being was urging him to cross the room and take Elinor in his arms — obligations and propriety be damned. It was all he could think of, and whether he had asked her pardon for his intrusion on first coming into the room, he could not recollect; but determining to be on the safe side, he made his apology in form as soon as he could say any thing, after taking a chair.

“Mrs. Jennings told me,” said he, striving to remind himself that things between them were different now, that no matter how unchanged his feelings were towards the woman before him, her positive feelings towards him had no doubt been obliterated, “that you wished to speak with me, at least I understood her so — or I certainly should not have intruded on you in such a manner; though at the same time, I should have been extremely sorry to leave London without seeing you and your sister; especially as it will most likely be some time — it is not probable that I should soon have the pleasure of meeting you again. I go to Oxford to-morrow.”

“You would not have gone, however,” whispered Elinor, “without receiving our good wishes, even if we had not been able to give them in person.”

Elinor was moving closer to him as she spoke, gliding toward him like a fish being reeled through the water. What was she doing? Did she not hate him? Surely she must, after all he had put her through. But still she drew nearer. The closer she came, the warmer Edward felt. “Yes,” he croaked, struggling to pay attention to the conversation. “Thank you.”

“Mrs. Jennings was quite right in what she said. I have something of consequence to inform you of, which I was on the point of communicating by paper.”

She quite near him now, close enough to touch, close enough to kiss, her eyes glazed and fixed on his, the hem of her dress brushing against his shoes. As he was sitting and she was standing, his eyesight was in perfect alignment with the soft, bulging flesh of her breasts, peeking out over the top of her bodice. Edward’s heartbeat shot up, his ears began to pound, and his peripheral vision blacked out, leaving him helpless but to lose himself in the stunning sight before him. He no longer had any idea what they were supposed to be talking about, and he watched in awe, hunger, horror, almost as a spectator, as his hand reached out to Elinor’s trim waist, grabbing the fabric of her dress firmly and pulling her into his lap.

“Oh!” Elinor cried in surprise, as if she hadn’t even realised she had moved so close to him, as if she too had been acting outside of her own accord. But rather than pull away, she wrapped her legs around him and relaxed her weight into him. A hand reached up and brushed the corner of his mouth. She licked her lips.

That was it.

Edward took her mouth with his and was granted entry immediately. Their tongues intertwined, their hands roamed free, and they gasped for breath as they desperately explored each other.

What was this connection between the two of them that made them — two normally levelheaded, mild mannered individuals — become senseless, instinct-driven heathens, set on consuming the other within an inch of their lives?

Whatever it was, they were powerless against it, and had no choice but to give in to the burning, aching need.

Elinor’s nimble, fast-working fingers quickly freed Edward’s manhood from his trousers and lowered herself onto him with no pretense. She had no interest in working her way up to this moment — right now, she needed him inside her more than she needed air to breathe. They both cried out in the instant they became connected, and moved together, their eyes glued on one another’s. Elinor could not think of Lucy, she could not think of what was right, she could not think of what this meant, or what would happen after. She just rocked over him, still sitting upon his lap, and reveled in the sensation of being filled with the man she loved.

This time was different from the other times Edward and Elinor had come together. This time was less gentle and loving and instead feverish and impatient. Whether it was their extended separation or the promise of a future without one another that propelled their passion was unclear. Nor did it matter. All that mattered was that time seemed to stop as the couple moved as one, as they grasped onto each other so hard they left fingerprints, as their entire bodies became drenched in sweat, and for that perfect, heavenly moment, all was right with the world.

But then they reached their release and the clock started up again, and reality rushed back into the room with the force of a tidal wave crashing against the shore.

Elinor pulled her eyes away from Edward’s, which had gradually lost their fire and become filled with concern, and slowly removed herself from his lap, straightening her skirts and handing him a handkerchief to clean up his spilled seed.