Sense and Sensibility (The Wild and Wanton Edition) (57 page)

Mrs. Jennings’s prophecies, though rather jumbled together, were chiefly fulfilled; for she was able to visit Edward and his wife in their Parsonage by Michaelmas, and she found in Elinor and her husband, as she really believed, one of the happiest couples in the world, and she quite enjoyed listening to them take pleasure in one another each night, as young people in love ought to do.

They had in fact nothing to wish for, but the marriage of Colonel Brandon and Marianne, and rather better pasturage for their cows.

They were visited on their first settling by almost all their relations and friends. Mrs. Ferrars came to inspect the happiness which she was almost ashamed of having authorised; and even the Dashwoods were at the expense of a journey from Sussex to do them honour.

“I will not say that I am disappointed, my dear sister,” said John, as they were walking together one morning before the gates of Delaford House, “
that
would be saying too much, for certainly you have been one of the most fortunate young women in the world, as it is. But, I confess, it would give me great pleasure to call Colonel Brandon brother. His property here, his place, his house, — every thing is in such respectable and excellent condition! And his woods, — I have not seen such timber any where in Dorsetshire, as there is now standing in Delaford Hanger! And though, perhaps, Marianne may not seem exactly the person to attract him, yet I think it would altogether be advisable for you to have them now frequently staying with you, for as Colonel Brandon seems a great deal at home, nobody can tell what may happen; for, when people are much thrown together, and see little of anybody else, — and it will always be in your power to set her off to advantage, and so forth. In short, you may as well give her a chance; You understand me.”

But though Mrs. Ferrars
did
come to see them, and always treated them with the make-believe of decent affection, they were never insulted by her real favour and preference.
That
was due to the folly of Robert, and the cunning of his wife; and it was earned by them before many months had passed away. The selfish sagacity of the latter, which had at first drawn Robert into the scrape, was the principal instrument of his deliverance from it; for her respectful humility, assiduous attentions, and endless flatteries, as soon as the smallest opening was given for their exercise, reconciled Mrs. Ferrars to his choice, and re-established him completely in her favour.

The whole of Lucy’s behaviour in the affair, and the prosperity which crowned it, therefore, may be held forth as a most encouraging instance of what an earnest, an unceasing attention to self-interest, however its progress may be apparently obstructed, will do in securing every advantage of fortune, with no other sacrifice than that of time and conscience. When Robert first sought her acquaintance, and privately visited her in Bartlett’s Buildings, it was only with the view imputed to him by his brother. He merely meant to persuade her to give up the engagement; and as there could be nothing to overcome but the affection of both, he naturally expected that one or two interviews would settle the matter. In that point, however, and that only, he erred; for though Lucy soon gave him hopes that his eloquence would convince her in
time
, another visit, another conversation, was always wanted to produce this conviction. Some doubts always lingered in her mind when they parted, which could only be removed by another half hour’s discourse with himself. His attendance was by this means secured, and the rest followed in course. Instead of talking of Edward, they came gradually to talk only of Robert, — a subject on which he had always more to say than on any other, and in which she soon betrayed an interest even equal to his own; and in short, it became speedily evident to both, that he had entirely supplanted his brother. He was proud of his conquest, proud of tricking Edward, and very proud of marrying privately without his mother’s consent. What immediately followed is known. They passed some months in great happiness at Dawlish; for she had many relations and old acquaintances to cut — and he drew several plans for magnificent cottages; and from thence returning to town, procured the forgiveness of Mrs. Ferrars, by the simple expedient of asking it, which, at Lucy’s instigation, was adopted. The forgiveness, at first, indeed, as was reasonable, comprehended only Robert; and Lucy, who had owed his mother no duty and therefore could have transgressed none, still remained some weeks longer unpardoned. But perseverance in humility of conduct and messages, in self-condemnation for Robert’s offence, and gratitude for the unkindness she was treated with, procured her in time the haughty notice which overcame her by its graciousness, and led soon afterwards, by rapid degrees, to the highest state of affection and influence. Lucy became as necessary to Mrs. Ferrars, as either Robert or Fanny; and while Edward was never cordially forgiven for having once intended to marry her, and Elinor, though superior to her in fortune and birth, was spoken of as an intruder,
she
was in every thing considered, and always openly acknowledged, to be a favourite child. They settled in town, received very liberal assistance from Mrs. Ferrars, were on the best terms imaginable with the Dashwoods; and setting aside the jealousies and ill-will continually subsisting between Fanny and Lucy, in which their husbands of course took a part, as well as the frequent domestic disagreements between Robert and Lucy themselves, nothing could exceed the harmony in which they all lived together.

What Edward had done to forfeit the right of eldest son, might have puzzled many people to find out; and what Robert had done to succeed to it, might have puzzled them still more. It was an arrangement, however, justified in its effects, if not in its cause; for nothing ever appeared in Robert’s style of living or of talking to give a suspicion of his regretting the extent of his income, as either leaving his brother too little, or bringing himself too much; — and if Edward might be judged from the ready discharge of his duties in every particular, from an increasing attachment to his wife and his home, and from the regular cheerfulness of his spirits, he might be supposed no less contented with his lot, no less free from every wish of an exchange.

Elinor’s marriage divided her as little from her family as could well be contrived, without rendering the cottage at Barton entirely useless, for her mother and sisters spent much more than half their time with her. Mrs. Dashwood was acting on motives of policy as well as pleasure in the frequency of her visits at Delaford; for her wish of bringing Marianne and Colonel Brandon together was hardly less earnest, though rather more liberal than what John had expressed. It was now her darling object. Precious as was the company of her daughter to her, she desired nothing so much as to give up its constant enjoyment to her valued friend; and to see Marianne settled at the mansion-house was equally the wish of Edward and Elinor. They each felt his sorrows, and their own obligations, and Marianne, by general consent, was to be the reward of all.

With such a confederacy against her — with a knowledge so intimate of his goodness — with a conviction of his fond attachment to herself, which at last, though long after it was observable to everybody else — burst on her — what could she do? Ever since she had been bestowed with the magic of Colonel Brandon’s kiss, she could not think of anything else. With each day that passed from that moment, he became a bit handsomer, a bit kinder, a bit more perfect. And that he had not mentioned the kiss since it had happened, and that he seemed keen to provide her all the time and distance she required in order to reach this conclusion by herself, raised him even higher in her esteem. He did not wish to rush her into anything she was not ready for — which, combined with the obvious fact of his unrelenting love for her, proved he cared more about
her
feelings than he did his own. All of this in turn evidenced him Willoughby’s polar opposite — a truth which made Marianne more optimistic than she could have ever predicted.

Marianne Dashwood was born to an extraordinary fate. She was born to discover the falsehood of her own opinions, and to counteract, by her conduct, her most favourite maxims. She was born to overcome an affection formed so late in life as at seventeen, and with no sentiment superior to strong esteem and lively friendship, voluntarily to give her hand to another! — and
that
other, a man who had suffered no less than herself under the event of a former attachment, whom, two years before, she had considered too old to be married, — and who still sought the constitutional safeguard of a flannel waistcoat!

But so it was.

She went to the mansion-house one early one morning, before anyone else had awoken, determined to speak with him privately, away from the prying ears of her mother and sisters. Upon seeing Marianne in his home so unexpectedly, Colonel Brandon could not help but feel a surge of great hope. She looked so perfect standing there in his parlour, her face bright and healthy and beautiful, her smile radiant, as if the house were made for her. She was meant to be here. She was meant to be with him.

“Colonel Brandon,” she said softly, curtseying.

“Miss Marianne,” he replied.

“Forgive me for arriving here unannounced — ” she began, but he cut her off.

“Please,” he said. “Do not apologize. You are always welcome here. I must say, your visit is a surprise of the happiest kind.”

She smiled, taking in his honest, open expression, the way he leaned toward her involuntarily while clearly trying to remain the proper gentleman that he was. She knew then, looking at him, that she had done the right thing in coming here. There was no need for words — they were on the exact same page. So, instead, she stepped toward him, took his hand, delighted in the slight catch of his breath, and pressed her lips lightly to his. Instantly, he reacted, wrapping his arms around her waist, pulling her body close to his, and deepening the kiss.

They remained like that for a long moment, mouths exploring, hands roaming, swaying on their feet. Marianne could not believe that a connection this perfect had been right in front of her all this time and yet it had taken so long, and so much, for her to realise it. And judging from the bulge rubbing against her belly through the Colonel’s trousers, she had been wrong about something else as well — he was certainly not too old to make love to her properly. And if his kisses were any indication, he definitely knew what he was doing.

Eventually, Colonel Brandon broke the kiss and leaned his forehead against Marianne’s, the pair of them breathing heavily. “Marianne,” he murmured, “I have tried to be patient out of my unwavering respect for you, but I fear I cannot wait any longer to tell you how I feel.”

She giggled. “Tell me. Please.”

He kissed her once more, pulled her tight against him, and then said, “I love you, my dear Marianne. I always have. I always will. If you do the honour of becoming my wife I swear to spend the rest of my life earning your affection.”

She pulled back just a little, so their hips were still touching but their eyes could drink each other in, and whispered, “You already have my affection, Colonel. To become your wife would make me the happiest woman in the world.”

Colonel Brandon grinned. “So is that a yes?”

“It’s a yes.”

The Colonel lifted Marianne up off the floor and swung her around, the two of them laughing with joy.

“Take me to your bedroom,” she whispered against his lips.

His breath caught once more. “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.”

He whisked her up the stairs and within seconds they were lying on his grand bed, the door locked behind them, their mouths all over each other once more. They undressed each other greedily and swiftly. Gazing at her reverently, Colonel Brandon trailed his fingertips across Marianne’s bare skin, leaving a path of sizzling heat everywhere he touched. He rolled her nipples between his fingers, bringing them to firm, ripe peaks, and took one, then the other, into his mouth, sucking with just the right amount of pressure to bring her to the edge.

“You’ve done this … before,” Marianne gasped through her moans of sheer pleasure.

“Not for a very, very long time,” he replied, leaving her breasts and kissing his way down her belly. When he reached the apex between her legs, he did not hesitate — his tongue flicked out and he stole a taste of her delicious nectar. It was heavenly.

Marianne gasped and bolted upright. “What are you doing?”

Colonel Brandon’s face coloured. “Forgive me, I … I just wanted to … make you feel … ”

Marianne reached down and cupped his cheek. “No, don’t apologize. It feels wonderful. I just … I was told … I didn’t know men could do that to women.”

In a flash, Colonel Brandon knew exactly who had told Marianne such lies. “Well, my dear, I’m afraid you were misinformed.” He paused, searching her face. “Do you wish for me to continue?”

Marianne stared at the Colonel, suddenly realising that perhaps Willoughby wasn’t the perfect lover she’d believed him to be. This here was just more evidence that he was selfish in every way, and cared more about his own needs than her own. The man who was between her legs at this very moment was, just minutes into their first encounter, already more giving and loving than her former lover had been. And he was asking what she wanted. Maybe she could finally live out her fantasy of telling her lover what she wanted and needed, just as Fanny had always done during those moments Marianne had been eavesdropping. Feeling bolder, excited, Marianne nodded. “Yes.”

Colonel Brandon buried his face in her once more, spreading her legs wide and using both his hands and mouth to bring her more pleasure than she’d ever known to be possible. She reached her completion in a frenzy of tremors and screams, and floated back to earth in a daze of exquisite delight.

Colonel Brandon kissed his way back up her body, and Marianne kissed him deeper and more passionately than ever before, vowing to never let this man go. “I need you,” she whispered softly. “I need you inside me now.”

But he just inched his fingers back down to the curls between her legs and began to tease her down there once more. “No, my love. To-day is all about you. There will be plenty of time for that after we marry.”