Sense and Sensibility (The Wild and Wanton Edition) (6 page)

After some time, as the sweat on their bodies began to cool, Edward rolled off Elinor and they lay on their sides and stared into one another’s eyes. There was no embarrassment, no regret. They had never been happier.

“Are you sure you have never done that before?” he asked her.

Elinor giggled. “Oh, I’m sure. Why do you ask?”

“It’s just that you are so … good at it.”

Elinor reveled in the compliment, but then a disconcerting thought struck her. “Do you mean … are you comparing me to other women you’ve had?” She paused. “What I mean to say is … I have heard that there are places in town where men go to have their needs gratified … ”

Edward reached out and smoothed the line between Elinor’s brows with his thumb. “No. I assure you, you are the first woman I have ever been with. I was saving myself for marriage. It is true that not many men have the willpower nor inclination to do so, but it has been something I have always wanted … ” He trailed off.

Again, Elinor felt both relief and dismay. “Oh, no. And I have ruined that for you. Oh, Edward, I am so sorry — ”

Edward laughed. “Hush, you silly woman. Since I met you, I have wanted nothing more than you in my arms.”

Elinor let out her breath. “Truly?”

“Truly.”

They kissed — lightly and gently at first, but it soon grew more urgent, and they got lost in each other once again. Remarkably, this time was even better — there was no pain, no hesitation, no worry. They took each other with all the confidence in the world, striving to ease the endless craving they felt for one another.

Some time later, Elinor knew she must speak the inevitable. “I am leaving to-day.”

“Yes,” Edward replied, and they lapsed into a sad silence.

A few moments went by, and Elinor got up, brushed the dirt from her body, and began to dress. Edward wordlessly did the same. When they were presentable once more, they stood there, staring into each other’s eyes, searching for the right words to say.

“Elinor,” Edward said finally, “regarding what you said earlier … about the possibility of marriage … ”

“Yes?” Elinor’s heart began to lift. Was he about to propose? Would she not have to leave him after all?

“There is something I haven’t told you … something I must tell you … ”

“Yes?”

But they got no farther. The moment was interrupted by the call of Elinor’s mother, searching for her daughter. “Elinor!” Mrs. Dashwood called from the edge of the woods. “Elinor, where are you? We must be going!”

Elinor looked to Edward in despair. “I have to go.”

He nodded, looking down at the forest floor.

“But please — what were you to say?”

He shook his head. “It does not matter.”

Elinor’s hope extinguished. He did not want to marry her.
That’s all right
, she reminded herself.
You knew that was a possibility. You knew you weren’t doing this for a proposal. You did this because you wanted to. And now it is done and it was more than you knew to wish for. That is all.

She cleared her throat, desperately trying to ignore the pain in her heart. “Wait here until we have gone. Goodbye, Edward.” She kissed him on the cheek, inhaling his scent one final time, and walked away.

• • •

Many were the tears shed by them in their last adieus to a place so much beloved. “Dear, dear Norland!” said Marianne, as she wandered alone before the house, on the last evening of their being there; “when shall I cease to regret you! — when learn to feel a home elsewhere! Oh! happy house, could you know what I suffer in now viewing you from this spot, from whence perhaps I may view you no more! And you, ye well-known trees! — but you will continue the same. No leaf will decay because we are removed, nor any branch become motionless although we can observe you no longer! No; you will continue the same; unconscious of the pleasure or the regret you occasion, and insensible of any change in those who walk under your shade! But who will remain to enjoy you?”

Everyone — even Fanny — thought it odd that Edward had not come to see the Dashwood women off, but they could not seem to locate him and the travellers could wait no longer.

Mrs. Dashwood, Elinor, Marianne, and Margaret made their goodbyes to their relatives swiftly and cordially, and boarded the carriage, bound for their new life.

The first part of their journey was performed in too melancholy a disposition to be otherwise than tedious and unpleasant. Elinor was despondent over having loved and lost her Mr. Ferrars and spent the duration of the journey remembering every kiss, every touch, every beat of his heart against hers. But she did not cry. Instead, she stared from the window in a trance devised from her own memories. The remaining Dashwood women were so caught up in their own sorrow over leaving their beloved home that they did not seem to notice anything at all peculiar about Elinor’s behaviour. But as they drew towards the end of it, their interest in the appearance of a country which they were to inhabit overcame their dejection, and a view of Barton Valley as they entered it gave them cheerfulness. It was a pleasant fertile spot, well wooded, and rich in pasture. After winding along it for more than a mile, they reached their own house. A small green court was the whole of its demesne in front; and a neat wicket gate admitted them into it.

As a house, Barton Cottage, though small, was comfortable and compact; but as a cottage it was defective, for the building was regular, the roof was tiled, the window shutters were not painted green, nor were the walls covered with honeysuckles. A narrow passage led directly through the house into the garden behind. On each side of the entrance was a sitting room, about sixteen feet square; and beyond them were the offices and the stairs. Four bedrooms and two garrets formed the rest of the house. It had not been built many years and was in good repair. In comparison of Norland, it was poor and small indeed! — but the tears which recollection called forth as they entered the house were soon dried away. They were cheered by the joy of the servants on their arrival, and each for the sake of the others resolved to appear happy. It was very early in September; the season was fine, and from first seeing the place under the advantage of good weather, they received an impression in its favour which was of material service in recommending it to their lasting approbation.

The situation of the house was good. High hills rose immediately behind, and at no great distance on each side; some of which were open downs, the others cultivated and woody. The village of Barton was chiefly on one of these hills, and formed a pleasant view from the cottage windows. The prospect in front was more extensive; it commanded the whole of the valley, and reached into the country beyond. The hills which surrounded the cottage terminated the valley in that direction; under another name, and in another course, it branched out again between two of the steepest of them.

With the size and furniture of the house Mrs. Dashwood was upon the whole well satisfied; for though her former style of life rendered many additions to the latter indispensable, yet to add and improve was a delight to her; and she had at this time ready money enough to supply all that was wanted of greater elegance to the apartments. “As for the house itself, to be sure,” said she, “it is too small for our family, but we will make ourselves tolerably comfortable for the present, as it is too late in the year for improvements. Perhaps in the spring, if I have plenty of money, as I dare say I shall, we may think about building. These parlors are both too small for such parties of our friends as I hope to see often collected here; and I have some thoughts of throwing the passage into one of them with perhaps a part of the other, and so leave the remainder of that other for an entrance; this, with a new drawing room which may be easily added, and a bed-chamber and garret above, will make it a very snug little cottage. I could wish the stairs were handsome. But one must not expect every thing; though I suppose it would be no difficult matter to widen them. I shall see how much I am before-hand with the world in the spring, and we will plan our improvements accordingly.”

In the mean time, till all these alterations could be made from the savings of an income of five hundred a-year by a woman who never saved in her life, they were wise enough to be contented with the house as it was; and each of them was busy in arranging their particular concerns, and endeavoring, by placing around them books and other possessions, to form themselves a home. Marianne’s pianoforte was unpacked and properly disposed of; and Elinor’s drawings were affixed to the walls of their sitting room.

In such employments as these they were interrupted soon after breakfast the next day by the entrance of their landlord, who called to welcome them to Barton, and to offer them every accommodation from his own house and garden in which theirs might at present be deficient. Sir John Middleton was a good looking man about forty. He had formerly visited at Stanhill, but it was too long for his young cousins to remember him. His countenance was thoroughly good-humoured; and his manners were as friendly as the style of his letter. Their arrival seemed to afford him real satisfaction, and their comfort to be an object of real solicitude to him. He said much of his earnest desire of their living in the most sociable terms with his family, and pressed them so cordially to dine at Barton Park every day till they were better settled at home, that, though his entreaties were carried to a point of perseverance beyond civility, they could not give offence. His kindness was not confined to words; for within an hour after he left them, a large basket full of garden stuff and fruit arrived from the park, which was followed before the end of the day by a present of game. He insisted, moreover, on conveying all their letters to and from the post for them, and would not be denied the satisfaction of sending them his newspaper every day.

Lady Middleton had sent a very civil message by him, denoting her intention of waiting on Mrs. Dashwood as soon as she could be assured that her visit would be no inconvenience; and as this message was answered by an invitation equally polite, her ladyship was introduced to them the next day.

They were, of course, very anxious to see a person on whom so much of their comfort at Barton must depend; and the elegance of her appearance was favourable to their wishes. Lady Middleton was not more than six or seven and twenty; her face was handsome, her figure tall and striking, and her address graceful. Her manners had all the elegance which her husband’s wanted. But they would have been improved by some share of his frankness and warmth; and her visit was long enough to detract something from their first admiration, by showing that, though perfectly well-bred, she was reserved, cold, and had nothing to say for herself beyond the most common-place inquiry or remark.

Though they dare not speak such thoughts aloud, Elinor and Marianne separately marvelled on the immediately apparent differences between their new landlords and their former ones. Whereas their brother and his wife could not get enough of one another, it was near impossible to imagine Lady Middleton warming up to anyone, even her husband, enough to let her hair down — and lift her skirts up — and indulge in a bit of marital fun.

Conversation however was not wanted, for Sir John was very chatty, and Lady Middleton had taken the wise precaution of bringing with her their eldest child, a fine little boy about six years old, by which means there was one subject always to be recurred to by the ladies in case of extremity, for they had to enquire his name and age, admire his beauty, and ask him questions which his mother answered for him, while he hung about her and held down his head, to the great surprise of her ladyship, who wondered at his being so shy before company, as he could make noise enough at home. On every formal visit a child ought to be of the party, by way of provision for discourse. In the present case it took up ten minutes to determine whether the boy were most like his father or mother, and in what particular he resembled either, for of course every body differed, and every body was astonished at the opinion of the others.

An opportunity was soon to be given to the Dashwoods of debating on the rest of the children, as Sir John would not leave the house without securing their promise of dining at the park the next day.

Barton Park was about half a mile from the cottage. The ladies had passed near it in their way along the valley, but it was screened from their view at home by the projection of a hill. The house was large and handsome; and the Middletons lived in a style of equal hospitality and elegance. The former was for Sir John’s gratification, the latter for that of his lady. They were scarcely ever without some friends staying with them in the house, and they kept more company of every kind than any other family in the neighbourhood. It was necessary to the happiness of both; for however dissimilar in temper and outward behaviour, they strongly resembled each other in that total want of talent and taste which confined their employments, unconnected with such as society produced, within a very narrow compass. Sir John was a sportsman, Lady Middleton a mother. He hunted and shot, and she humoured her children; and these were their only resources. They had not come together as husband and wife in quite some time — since the birth of their last child — and, to be quite honest, neither was entirely displeased with that arrangement. Their attraction toward each other had consisted of a limited supply of mutual interest which had lasted just long enough to provide them with four perfect heirs. Lady Middleton had the advantage of being able to spoil her children all the year round, while Sir John’s independent employments were in existence only half the time. Continual engagements at home and abroad, however, supplied all the deficiencies of nature and education; supported the good spirits of Sir John, and gave exercise to the good breeding of his wife.

Lady Middleton piqued herself upon the elegance of her table, and of all her domestic arrangements; and from this kind of vanity was her greatest enjoyment in any of their parties. But Sir John’s satisfaction in society was much more real; he delighted in collecting about him more young people than his house would hold, and the noisier they were the better was he pleased. He was a blessing to all the juvenile part of the neighbourhood, for in summer he was for ever forming parties to eat cold ham and chicken out of doors, and in winter his private balls were numerous enough for any young lady who was not suffering under the insatiable appetite of fifteen.