Willoughby's Return (11 page)

MRS DASHWOOD AND MARGARET were ready to travel immediately. They had enough boxes and trunks piled up in the hall as if they were going for half a year instead of a few weeks. Marianne felt weary after her journey and was pleased to rest in front of a cheerful fire in the sitting room and glad, despite the eagerness of the other women, that they would not be travelling until the morrow. She was also grateful that on this occasion there was no mention of going up to the Park to see the Middletons and Mrs Jennings. She would be seeing them quite soon enough, she felt, for they were to come for a visit to Delaford, arriving on the eve of the ball and stopping a fortnight. Still, it could not be helped, and she hoped that it would all be to Margaret's benefit.

Marianne had not expected to relate anything of the goings-on at Allenham Court or for the subject to be raised at all, so she was greatly surprised when Mrs Dashwood brought up the topic; not only of the poor deceased Mrs Smith but of Mr Willoughby himself.

“I wrote to you about Mrs Smith, did I not, Marianne?” Mrs Dashwood fussed about with the cushions on a chair, patting and plumping them and setting them straight.

Marianne noted that her mother did not look at her directly as she spoke. She waited to hear more.

“We had a visitor early this morning,” Mrs Dashwood said, pausing to take up her needlework to stitch furiously along a seam. Marianne could not help notice her mother's agitation, or the colouring about her throat.

“Mr Willoughby came here,” said Margaret.

Still Marianne remained silent.

“I was determined to snub him for your sake, Marianne,” Mrs Dashwood continued, “but I think when I tell you all, you will see that it was quite impossible for me to be so unkind.”

“He was very charming,” Margaret added with enthusiasm. “Please don’t be cross, Marianne. He came to make amends.”

“What did he say?”

“Well, we were sitting after breakfast as we always do,” interrupted Mrs Dashwood, “and Tom came in to say Mr Willoughby had called. He said he was most anxious to see me. I could not refuse to see him but I was prepared to give him a piece of my mind. Well, he came in, looking quite as handsome as ever, in a dark brown coat to mirror those dark eyes to perfection and I was a lost cause from the moment he entered the room. Oh, Marianne, forgive me, but the years melted away and though I can never forgive him for his conduct toward you, please let me say this. He has suffered, truly suffered, for his crimes. I believe he has regretted you since the day he severed the connection.”

“Did he say as much?” Marianne asked, rather astonished that such an intimacy had been established on so soon a reacquaintance.

“Not in so many words,” admitted her mother. “At least that was the impression he gave most earnestly. What did he say, Margaret?”

Marianne sighed. Her mother was always easily charmed and no doubt Mr Willoughby had eased his way back into her good books with little effort. Smiles and compliments had been his most likely method, thought she.

“He said that now he was coming back to the neighbourhood, he was sure that we would meet from time to time and he was most concerned that his past behaviour to our family might rightly prejudice us against him. He wanted to ask our forgiveness and apologise most profusely for what had happened. He said he knew there was probably little hope that we would ever accept him back as the friend he had once been, but that his dearest wish was to be able to meet with cordiality. However, he would be content if he could at least greet us in the street as we passed by. I think that was about the drift of it, wasn’t it, Mama?”

Mrs Dashwood nodded and her eyes appealed to Marianne for Willoughby's forgiveness.

“He asked after you and wanted to know if you were happy,” Margaret added.

“I told him you were very happy, Marianne,” said Mrs Dashwood. “Indeed, because you are so settled and everything has turned out so much better for you, I did not think you would mind if he called on us occasionally. I did not have the heart to be cruel to the man. He seemed so genuinely to regret losing our friendship. I suggested he might call again and perhaps bring Mrs Willoughby.”

“Mother! How could you do such a thing,” Marianne shouted. “I cannot believe you could be so thoughtless. Have
you forgotten William in all of this, and the other business of Brandon's ward?” Marianne could not bring herself to say Eliza's name out loud. “You know how William detests Willoughby. He would have killed him when they met to duel if he had been able. Have you forgotten Eliza Williams and her child?”

“Mr Willoughby is keen to make amends to his natural child. He told me as much.”

“And William will never allow it,” Marianne cried, standing up and pacing to the window. “It is as well that we are going to Delaford in the morning.” She stared out at the landscape, the rolling hills and green valleys undulating before them. “Oh, goodness,” she started, “whatever will I do if he presents himself at the ball?”

“That is highly unlikely, Marianne. Why on earth should Willoughby do that?” Mrs Dashwood walked over to her daughter and put out her hand to stroke her arm in an affectionate gesture.

“I haven’t said a word on the matter, sister,” cried Margaret, observing her mother's expression of puzzlement and alarm at these words.

“Because he is an acquaintance of Henry Lawrence,” Marianne announced, turning to look her mother in the eye, “and because I have invited him!”

The whole story came out, about how she had unwittingly invited Willoughby to the ball, about how Sir Edgar Lawrence was interested in buying a property for Henry that Willoughby had to sell. “I was certain that he would not come once he found out that the ball was at Delaford, but now you have given him so much encouragement, Mama, I cannot be sure. There will be trouble, I know it.”

“There is no point worrying about it now, Marianne,” her mother soothed, taking her arm in her own and leading her back to the sofa. “We must hope for the best. And if he does come, we will deal with that too, if and when it happens. Now, come along, let us have no more on such a distressing subject. You must calm yourself or you will be ill.”

But Marianne could not be calmed, she would not eat any dinner and excused herself as soon as she could, saying that she had a headache from the journey and that she wanted an early night. “We will set off as soon as we rise, Mama,” she said. “James is so looking forward to seeing you both and William will be anxious until we reach home. I will feel better in the morning, but I must rest now. Good night.” She did not add that she wished to be as far away from Barton as soon as she could be, for fear of running into a certain gentleman who had promised would call again before long.

A merry party, caught up in the mood of the celebrations to come, were sat in the dining room at Delaford Park over breakfast, early on Saturday morning. Colonel Brandon presided over the company, eager to see that his guests had every comfort at his disposal. The Middletons and Mrs Jennings had arrived the day before, accompanied by all six Middleton children in two carriages. The ladies from Barton Cottage had arrived just before them and greeted the other Devonshire family, as though they had not seen them for a month at least. Elinor and Edward Ferrars had arrived early in the morning from the parsonage with their little ones; Anna now sat with her Brandon cousin. Marianne smiled at the noisy scene; it was impossible to feel anything but pleasure at such conviviality. Everyone was talking
at once as vast quantities of bread rolls, cake, and chocolate disappeared into hungry mouths.

“My dear, Mrs Ferrars,” said Mrs Jennings, breaking a soft white roll and buttering it liberally, “it is such a delight to meet with you again, your dear husband and the little F's. It still tickles me to think of the time when I used to joke you about Mr F. Oh, I knew how it would be, even when it was discovered that my cousin Lucy was secretly engaged to him. I did not say so at the time but I was never convinced that Lucy and Mr F would make a match. You two were such a perfect couple. And here you are now, as proof to that testament, with a growing family and more to come, I daresay.”

Elinor smiled but did not quite know how to answer. If her memory served her well, Mrs Jennings had been convinced that Elinor had been all set to marry Colonel Brandon. However, Mrs Jennings always meant well and had a kind heart, but it was imperative that she should divert the lady's conversation away from herself. Elinor did not want to be drawn into answering her impertinent questions and so encouraged her companion to talk of herself, a favourite subject with that lady. “How are you, Mrs Jennings? How is your daughter Charlotte?”

“I’m very well, my dear. Charlotte is nursing baby number four at Cleveland at present and hoping to be fit enough to come to London a little later on. I shall be going to my house too and will see them all there.”

“You have a fine set of grandchildren, Mrs Jennings. Lady Middleton has six children now, does she not?” Elinor politely stated.

“What a number of grandchildren I have, Mrs Ferrars, I cannot for the life of me remember all their names, I assure you. Ten of them, Lord bless me, though between you and me Mary
seems to have slowed down a little at last. Good thing for her too, I say, this child rearing is a tiring business.”

“Yes, indeed, ma’am,” Elinor nodded in agreement.

“Will we be seeing you in town this winter, Mrs Ferrars?” Mrs Jennings went on. “Mr Palmer has to be in town of course for the opening of Parliament, so we will all be going. Being an M.P. takes up so much time, you cannot imagine. Charlotte says she hardly sees her husband from one week's end to the next, when they go to town, though between you and me, I think Mr Palmer spends as much time sitting in his club as he does in the House! We would be very pleased to see you there. I expect your sister will be going, will she not? The Colonel never misses a trip to town, and I daresay young Margaret would be keen to go too, especially when the Lawrences are likely to take a house. I hear young Henry Lawrence may be the very young man Miss Margaret has been waiting for!” Mrs Jennings chuckled at this last retort and as Margaret's ears caught the mention of her name, her expression betrayed the anxiety she felt at having it bandied about by the former in such a jocular fashion.

Edward Ferrars came to the rescue by asking Mrs Jennings when she intended to travel. She soon glossed over that subject to make her enquiries after his brother, Robert, who was married to the Lucy with whom Edward had once been secretly engaged. It had been an engagement made when they were both very young. Edward had consequently fallen in love with Elinor but had been prepared to honour his promise to Lucy. Luckily for them both, Lucy had turned her affections toward Robert when she discovered the latter had been favoured with Edward's inheritance. Fortunately for Edward and Elinor, as their visits to
London were very infrequent, they did not have to meet Robert and Lucy very often.

“My brother and sister are very well, I believe,” Edward replied. “They will be expecting to see you when you are in London, Mrs Jennings. Lucy begged me to apologise for not having written lately but she has had much to do with their removal to Russell Square.”

“Aye, I expect she has, though it has to be said that she has become a very poor letter writer since she married and has no need to beg my company. Well, well, youth was ever thus, unthinking and plaguing in the extreme. Old folks like me lose their attractions with every passing year. I daresay she is spending all her time fitting up her new establishment and looking after that brood of naughty children. Lord, bless my soul, three children and another on the way, even quicker than my Charlotte or Mary.”

“I believe the children do take up a lot of her time,” Edward agreed.

A knock at the door interrupted the flow of conversation around that end of the table. The servant came in and proffered the salver toward Marianne, who took the letter and stared at the handwritten direction with a frown. She had barely opened the missive when it was hurriedly folded again. Marianne did not seem at ease as she looked around the table, but she could see the Colonel deep in conversation with Sir John Middleton at the other end and her expression lightened temporarily. Her discomposure was noted not only by Elinor, who guessed immediately from whence the letter came, but also by Mrs Jennings, who asked about it without hesitation.

“It is just an old acquaintance,” Marianne stammered, colouring as she spoke and placing the letter in her pocket,
pulled the strings firmly together. “If you will all excuse me, I need to speak to Mrs Spencer about some arrangements for this evening.” Marianne rose from her chair abruptly and left the room without a backward glance.

“Well, that was all rather mysterious,” cried Mrs Jennings, “I do hope it wasn’t bad news. Mrs Brandon looked quite as if she had read something unpleasant. I wonder what it can have been about.”

Edward responded to Elinor's gentle nudge under the table and proceeded to engage Mrs Jennings in a conversation about his mother, which he knew would divert the interests of his companion with little effort on his behalf. Elinor tried to look as though she was listening with concentration, but felt most concerned. She would have to wait to speak to Marianne later, but in any case, Mrs Ferrars had a suspicion that she knew to what subject the letter pertained.