Section I, Next Section
Posted on Thursday, 18 February 1999
Chapter One
Oh, dear Lord...What is it? "Yes, sir. Of course." Once the class had ended and was dismissed, eighteen year old Edward Ferrars hesitantly approached his educator.
"Edward, did you have any plans for this evening?" Mr. Pratt asked of his favorite pupil.
"N-No, sir. That i-is....no, sir..." Edward lamely replied.
"Good! We would be delighted to have you for dinner than, if it would please you. My sister's daughters, Miss Ann and Lucy Steele, are staying with us for an extended vacation, and I know that there is little to no companionship to be found in my wife and I for them."
"I-I would be delighted, sir."
"Splendid, my boy! Could you come around, perhaps five tonight?"
"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir!"
"Wonderful! I shall see you then!"
Companionship? For his two nieces? What kind of uncle provides a male for female companionship? Well....it is better than staying in the room all night. And mother and Fanny will be pleased if I say I have dined with my instructor. And things have been so blasé around here of late....Perhaps the Miss Steeles will prove to be some sort of entertainment....
Three Hours Later....
"Sir?"
"Edward Ferrars. I am come at the invitation of -"
"Yes sir, right this way, please." The elderly butler showed Edward into a fine parlor in which Mr. Pratt, a fairly attractive middle aged woman, whom he supposed was Mrs. Pratt, and two young ladies were seated.
"Good evening, sir," Edward said, bowing humbly.
"Edward, my boy!" Mr. Pratt strode across the room to back his back and shake his hand. "We'll have no such unnecessary formalities and civilities here, son! Come! You must meet my wife and nieces. This is my wife, Mrs. Amelia Pratt." Edward bowed to her, as she curtsied back. "And these! These are my very favorite nieces in the whole world! This is Miss Ann Steele, and her younger sister, Miss Lucy Steele."
"Uncle!" Miss Lucy said softly, giggling and sending coy glances at Edward. "We are your only nieces!"
"All the same, dear! All the same! Come! Let's sit and talk awhile!"
An hour of small talk succeeded, strained on Edward's behalf and flowing easily from Mr. Pratt. Lucy would occasionally join in, if there was a break in Mr. Pratt's rambling, all the while flitting her eyelashes at Edward and sitting daintily on the sofa, near his chair. He was not used to such attentions. Shy and soft spoken, he rarely conversed with anyone he didn't know extremely well. Dear Edward was awkward around strangers and acquaintances. Miss Steele's concentration on him was un-nerving, and he recoiled.
During dinner, Edward found it wasn't necessary to talk at all, but only to nod and smile. Mr. Pratt continued talking, and whenever he wasn't, Lucy filled the silence with a question for him, which was usually answered by her uncle. Because Edward had never been exposed to this kind of behavior in a woman before, he accepted it gladly, though unsure of his footing. Miss Steele wasn't unattractive. She had chocolate brown hair shaped into curly tendrils, cloudy blue eyes, a bow mouth, and a Grecian nose. She was moderately built. She wasn't obese, but perhaps large boned, and rather short. In whatever area her looks were faulty, her genial personality made up for.
After a comfortable dinner, Lucy and Edward's relationship gradually grew into an acquaintance, and then into friendship. Lucy's attentions were constant to say the least, and Edward had her undivided attention. He found himself growing more adept at talking with her, and she nodded and listened intently.
Three months after their first meeting, Edward was sitting in the garden with the women in the house, when Miss Steele and Mrs. Pratt were called away, leaving only Miss Lucy and himself.
"Dear Edward! I may call you Edward, mayn't I? After all that we've been through together!" Lucy exclaimed as she crossed the walk and sat on the stone bench with him.
"Uh....I -"
"Oh, I knew you wouldn't mind! We've become such friends! And....Edward....I am beginning to think....perhaps even more!"
"Wh-"
"Oh, Edward! We will be happy together, won't we?" Lucy asked in her falsetto voice, hugging his arm insincerely. Her facial expressions and tone of voice went unnoticed by Edward, as he was in shock. "We...We may not have known each other long, but I've grown to love you as I have loved no other man! Just as you love me! I told myself, 'Oh Lucy, how cruel you are to deny Edward of his true love. If you are it, then so be it!' Dearest Edward, when will you go to my Aunt and Uncle?"
Edward had never thought of Lucy in this light before. True, he enjoyed her company, true, she was the only female who had ever paid him this much attention. He had thought of her on occasion when not in her presence, so he must be in love, mustn't he?
"Miss Steele....This may be hard for you to hear..." Edward began.
"Anything coming from your sacred lips can be no evil to mine ears!" Lucy cooed.
"Miss Steele -"
"Lucy, dearest, Lucy," she ran her fingers through his soft, dark brown hair.
"Mi....Lucy, I-I....my family is a very proud one....I...I......If I do not marry where it pleases my mother...in my station......She will strip me of my inheritance and fortune forever."
"Oh Edward!" Lucy cried, bursting into tears. "After all this! Why had you not told me sooner? And I love you so!" She buried her face in his arm, and he clumsily patted her thick hair. "Can they not love someone you love so divinely? Can they not see what we mean to each other? You are my sun, my moon, and my evening star! I cannot live without you Edward!" He was much taken aback by this proclamation, considering he didn't even remember proposing, but he would trust this good lady's word, and because they were engaged, he had to live up to his word as a gentleman.
"Hush, Lucy....Your sentiments are......returned...." Are they? Yes, I truly love her! "But for the time being, Lucy darling....perhaps we should leave our engagement secret. I could mention you to my family. Warm their opinion of you. Shed light on your divine person before them."
"But Edward, darling! My time here is so brief! I must be back with my parents in less than three weeks, and your education here will end in one short month! I may never see you again! I...I will always be with you Edward. Always in spirit. We...We must arrange accidental meetings on our part.," she said, beginning to plan for the future. "At any chance we have, we must go to the other. And we must keep up a secret correspondence in any way possible!"
"Y-Yes, Lucy. Of course. Anything you say."
"Oh, Edward! You are so good to me! So very good! I know we will be happy together!" she embraced him, placing her head on his shoulder for some time. Edward's body was ridged, unused to this affection, as he stiffly patted her back.
For the next three weeks, Lucy made sure they were in each other's company daily. On the day she was supposed to leave for home, she presented Edward with a lock of hair set in a tawdry gold ring.
"Th-Thank you, Lucy. I.......I will treasure this always."
Edward's conscience nagged him, telling him that he should do something for her in return. That night, when he dined with the Pratt's and Steele's for the last time, he brought along a miniature taken of him three years prior. It was a decent likeness, one made by the order of his mother, who gave the small picture to him when it was replaced with a new one. This he wrapped in one of his personal, embroidered handkerchiefs, and slipped it to Lucy, along with a note, unnoticed by anyone else, as they gave their adieus.
My darling Lucy,I must thank you again for the precious lock of hair encased in the ring that you so graciously bestowed upon me. I hope you notice tonight, that it was on my right ring finger. I now have the pleasure of bequeathing this miniature of me into your care. The likeness is a few years of old by now, but I hope the semblance has not altered so considerably that you do not know me. You have my endless affection.
I remain yours ever faithfully,
Edward Ferrars & etc.
Edward had gone through many drafts, not sure what to write or how much to express himself. It took him over half an hour to produce the finished product, which he was very proud of himself for. It is undisputed that Mr. Ferrars tries his hardest in all he does. Part of this may be because of unresolved insecurities, forced on him by his mother and sister. He was by no means the favorite son, as he wasn't fond of the London social life, and scorned those of false appearance. Shy and withdrawn, his overbearing mother controlled much of his life, and Edward was deeply unhappy.
Chapter Two
Lucy and Edward remained secretly engaged for the next six years. In the duration of these six years, they met but seven times. Lucy's letters were all very emotional and of long continuum. She often crossed a page with her elegant, robust scrawl. Edward truly tried to match her length and depth of feeling, but at the most filled three quarters of a page, and rarely mentioned his continued love. He was, for this manly fault, often under Lucy's reprimand. It had thus been for two consecutive months that they had heard nothing of each other, and Edward's sister's father-in-law passed on to a better world, leaving three daughters, a widow, and a large estate entrusted to his son. They had been settled there for two weeks when Fanny invited him to break his journey at Norland, while on his way home from London.
The carriage steadily drove up the long driveway to the front of the manor, and Edward slowly alighted. There was no one save one servant to greet him, and Betsy was her name.
Just like Fanny....She is probably napping in some window seat, a half eaten plate of bon-bons at her elbow, and an empty goblet, previously containing a vintage of some sort.
"I'll show you to your room, sir," Betsy said coldly.
"Thank you..." Edward was led through a few passages, up a flight of stairs, and around numerous corners. He eventually arrived at a medium sized room, painted in the feminine blues and greens of the ocean, with a beautiful, four poster bed, covered by a gigantic blanket of the same hues. Hung on the walls around the room were two or three paintings of the sea, a few cross stitches, and a simple cross. On the large oak shelving unit was bric-a-brac of sorts, a few dolls, and many books. "But....But surely you have led me to the wrong room...." he turned to Betsy.
"No indeed sir. 'Tis Miss Margaret's room, but the new Misses ordered it evacuated so's you could have a purty view of the lawns. 'Tis wrong in my eyes, sir, I must say quite frankly, and 'tis wrong in the eyes of the true occupants, but what the Misses says must be done."
"Just like Fanny, isn't it?" he mumbled to himself.
"Sir?"
"Nothing...Nothing...." he sighed. "Betsy! Please show me to a guest room. I'll not stay here. You can inform Miss Margaret that I am deeply sorry for the inconvenience, and that she may accommodate her room when she likes."
"Sir!"
"Betsy, please make it so. I shall not stay in this room."
"Sir, I had a good feeling about you, sir! I knew you wasn't like the young Mrs. Dashwood!" her hand flew to her mouth, realizing she had been completely out of line. "Oh sir!" she gasped. "I am sorry! I-I....You won't tell the Misses, will you?"
"On the contrary, Betsy! I often think along the same lines you just voiced. I thank you for your honesty. Now! Where was that guest room?"
"Right this way, sir!" Betsy curtsied and led him directly to another chamber on the other side of the house.
An hour later Edward had removed the layer of traveling dust and was heading down to greet his sister. He hesitantly knocked on the oak door, and entered at Fanny's voice, stopping in mid sentence to admit him. As he poked his head around the side of the door, Fanny and three other ladies rose to meet him.
"Edward!" Fanny exclaimed. "We are so glad to have you here! This is Mrs. John Dashwood, Miss Dashwood, and Miss Marianne." They each bowed and curtsied in turn as Edward emerged fully from behind the door to bow properly. His eye was immediately caught by Miss Dashwood. She looked to be but twenty-one, was slender and graceful, though slightly weary looking. "But Mrs. Dashwood! Where is Miss Margaret today? I declare, the child runs positively wild!"
Edward noticed the pained look on Miss Dashwood's face as Fanny said this, and he mentally disclaimed her for his sister.
"You must excuse my youngest, Mr. Ferrars," Mrs. Dashwood began. "She is a little shy of strangers and is not to be found today."
"Q-Quite understandably, I assure you. I also am very shy of strangers, a-and I have nothing like her excuse," he replied cordially, compensating for his sister's lack of decorum.
"Mr. Ferrars, how do you like the view from your room?" Miss Marianne asked rather pointedly. Miss Dashwood looked sharply at her younger sister, silently admonishing her.
"I like it very well, thank you.....The stables are very fine. I should like to visit them when I may."
"The stables!" Fanny exclaimed. "But Edward! Your view is of the lake!"
"Ah....Yes..." Edward began, not knowing what to tell his sister. "A slight oversight led me to a family member's room, so I asked to be removed at once." Marianne and Miss Dashwood's shared sisterly smile did not go unnoticed by Edward, and he was pleased to do anything to better their opinion of him, knowing full well that he would have much of a reputation to overcome, bestowed upon him by Fanny.
"Well!" Fanny said briskly. "I believe it is time for tea! Miss Eleanor, please ring the bell."
Ah! So Eleanor is her name! It suits her. She's very lovely.
"Edward! You have yet seen but four, perhaps five rooms of Norland! I shall take you on a grand tour after tea!"
"I should like that, Fanny. Thank you."
Tea passed on pleasantly enough, and forty-five minutes later, Fanny kept her unwanted promise and led him through every room. She herself barely knew her where-a-bouts, and the tour took but an hour at most, including the grounds.
"And this....is the library," she said, flitting her hand around, as she bustled in. Edward's ear detected a gasp coming from the other side of the room, and saw golden, curly mop of hair duck under a table with a large book. Edward noticed that the book was not completely hidden, and as Fanny walked quite near the hiding place, he casually leaned against the table, and nudged the book, which he noticed was an atlas, further under the table with his heel. Another gasp escaped from the child's lair, and he yawned to divert Fanny's attention.
"I never liked the smell of books," she finished.
"N-No...Probably the dust...."
"Yes, well.....That is the house...I have to order the preparations for dinner, so I will leave you now. I'll show you back to your room, I'm sure you're quite tired and in need of rest after that long journey and the way you have been yawning. Come this way, Edward."
"Yes, yes...Quite right, Fanny," Edward was far from tired, but it was best to let Fanny carry out her well meant intentions, and then continue on. They were traveling up the grand staircase, on the wall of which were hung ancestral paintings. Edward paused in front of the portrait of a young girl, who looked no more than six or seven. "Who is this?" he asked, looking for a nameplate, but finding none.
"Ah...That is Eleanor Dashwood. You met her not two hours ago. And the portrait next to hers is Marianne. Eleanor is a good sort of girl, though rather snobbish. She could almost be pretty. But Marianne! The girl has hardly said two words to me this fortnight, and has quite a temper! They are all very weepy and melancholy continuously. I have not had a smile or kind word out of any of them!"
"My dear Fanny..." Edward said softly, greatly disappointed in his sister's lack of feeling and empathy. "They have just lost their father....Their lives will never be the same...." he continued up the stairs, leaving Fanny behind him.
"That's no excuse!" she screeched, and stormed away. Edward would not justify her remark by turning around, and instead continued to his room.
Upon his arrival, he remembered the golden-topped stowaway, and went back down to the parlor, where he thought Miss Dashwood might be. Sure enough, he heard female voices on the other side of the door, and knocked quietly.
"Come in!" came the order.
Popping his head around the door to be sure of the room's occupants, a beautiful sight met his eyes; Eleanor Dashwood.
"I....I believe I may have found....what you are looking for," he hinted.
Eleanor was the only one who caught on as she uttered a surprised, "Oh!" and followed him out the door. "Dearest, won't you please come out?" she pleaded, sitting on her knees in front of the table where Margaret was still hidden, fifteen minutes later.
Mr. Ferrars knocked softly at the door, where he had stayed, watching, unbeknownst to Miss Dashwood.
"Yes, sir?" she inquired, rising.
"Uh...yes..." he began, not sure what he was going to say. "I was wondering whether you had such a thing as a reliable atlas around. I was curious as to the location of the origin of the Nile River. My sister tells me that it begins in....Shanghai, and ends in.....Calcutta, but I had thought rather, that it began in London.......and ended in Paris."
Eleanor admired his camaraderie, and continued the game. "No sir, I believe you are both mistaken. The Nile's origin is in St. Petersburg and ends in Warsaw. I believe your sister must have been thinking of the...of the...the Volga!"
"Oh, yes! The Volga!" he said, smiling warmly into her eyes. "I than-"
"Whatever do you mean by this? The source of the Nile is a place at the top of Lake Victoria called Jinja, Uganda!" the curly mop of hair could stand it no longer and protruded from under the table, quickly standing up.
"Oh?" Edward faked his surprise. "I-I thank you, then Miss....?"
"Margaret Dashwood!" she said proudly, lifting her chin higher in the air and extending her hand.
"Edward Ferrars. I am very pleased to meet you."
"Why on earth did you think that the Nile began in London and ended in Paris? It's physically impossible, you know! A gentleman of your age and knowledge should know when he is on an island!"
"You are, quite right, I assure you. I have no idea what put those thoughts into my mind. It was an incredibly ridiculous assumption on my behalf."
"Very well, you are forgiven, Mr. Ferrars. But I am not done with you, Eleanor! You have been my instructor these past few months, and know more about geography than I! You should not have come up with such a silly answer!"
"You are right again, Margaret. I do not know what I was thinking of!"
"St. Petersburg! The Volga!" she scoffed. "Honestly! I've never heard such comical responses to the simplest question in my life!"
Eleanor and Edward were trying to conceal their smiles and laughter, which did not go unnoticed by Margaret.
"You two were tricking me!" she accused. Marianne entered the room at that moment to summon Eleanor to their mother. Once she had left, Edward spoke for them both.
"I am very sorry Miss Margaret," he began, apologetically. "Your family was very worried about you, and I was personally very anxious to meet this curious being I had heard so much about, so I set about to meet you. Only, you were under there...and I was out here....Your sister had nothing to do with this, I assure you; it was by my own pure malice."
"Very well, then!" Margaret sighed, crossing her arms over her chest. "I suppose you are forgiven....For now..." she said archly, raising one eyebrow and turning to leave. "On one condition!" she whirled around on sudden inspiration. "The room you now occupy is, as I'm sure you've noticed, one of the family's rooms. In fact, it is mine! You are forgiven if evacuate my bedchamber immediately!"
"Your wish is my command, fair lady," Edward said dashingly as he bowed. As he righted himself he clapped his hands twice as if summoning someone, winked, and said, "It is done! Go and see for yourself, you will not find my belongings in your room."
"Really?" she asked, delighted, her eyes widening in wonder.
"Really and truly, miss."
"Oh, Edward!" she cried as she flung her arms around his neck. He was astonished at first, but soon started laughing and embraced her in return. "I knew I liked you! You're nothing like Fanny, you know! Fanny has been almost cruel this past fortnight!"
"Cruel, how?"
Margaret's countenance went from delighted to mournful in the blink of an eye. "Papa has been gone less than a month. Mama is still crying daily, and Marianne plays melancholy songs on the piano forte hourly. She has had no consideration for us, and once I even heard her talking to Uncle John about us. She said we were 'negative, dull people, who do not know how to get on with life after death.' Is it wrong that we should be this sad, Edward?" Tears were starting to well up in her eyes, and Edward felt his heart break right along with hers.
He led her over to he window seat and sat her down. "Not at all, Margaret. It is very understandable that you and your family would still be very upset about your loss, which I would like to say now, I am very sorry for. As for Fanny, she will never change her ways. Fanny is Fanny. Nothing more remains to be said about her....Now, what about you and your eldest sister? How are you two fairing?"
"Oh...Eleanor is the strong one. She cries every so often, not nearly as much as Marianne or Mama, but when she thinks she's alone, she will occasionally let go of her emotions. Eleanor has done everything lately. Before Fanny came she took over running the house for Mama. Now Fanny has taken over everything."
"And what of you?"
"I miss Papa....!" she answered forlornly after a long pause. As she said this, she could no longer contain her tears and she began to cry. Edward could never bear to see anyone weep, and before he knew it, Margaret had climbed into his lap and was crying into his shoulder. "He b-built me m-my tree house-se!" she said between sobs. "H-He used to r-read to me every night! About soldiers a-and long voyages and t-the ocean.....a-and we used to play pirates!......Almost every day.....!.....We were going to go to India on our next sailing trip...!"
Edward patted her hair and hugged her to him, letting the fatherly instincts in him take over. He had known the girl not even an hour, and already she had won him over. Right now, he would have moved into the stables if she'd asked, and slept in the most ferocious horse's stall. There were many faces to this beguiling nymph. She could be mean, almost to the point of being fierce, grown up and sophisticated like a reigning queen one minute, and be a sad, poor, little, vulnerable girl the next, who had just lost her father.
They continued on in this fashion for the next few minutes until Margaret had control over herself. "You won't tell anyone, will you?"
Edward was curious as to why, but nodded his head in agreement anyway.
"Eleanor would be furious if she knew that I had been so forward around a stranger. But you're not a stranger anymore, are you Edward?"
Edward could only shake his head 'no.'
"No, of course not! You're a dear, dear friend!" she hugged his neck again, practically strangling him, as he fought to keep his eyes from misting over. A bell rang then, causing Margaret to draw back suddenly. "Oh, no, Edward! That is the dinner bell, and I have got your coat all wet, and my dress in the process. We had better go change quickly before we are summoned," she jumped up from the window seat and ran out of the room.
Dinner passed pleasantly enough, but by the time it was over, Edward begged leave and retired to his room. His traveling had finally caught up with him.
Chapter Three
When he finally rose the next morning, the house had been awake for a good two hours, but it was still before breakfast. On his way down stairs he ran into Betsy.
"Good morning, sir," she bobbed.
"Good morning."
"I believe Miss Margaret was a'lookin' for you earlier on. I believe she be in the library, sir."
"Thank you, Betsy," he said, quite amused and flattered that Margaret considered him such a friend already, and had the spirit to demand his attention so early in the morning. Edward was more happy at that moment, than he had been since for quite some time. He entered the library and saw his little nymph absorbing the atlas.
"Hello, Miss Margaret!" he greeted cheerily as he bent over her.
She looked up startled and practically shouted his name in glee, "Edward! Come see what I have done!"
Edward concentrated on the scribbles written on a piece of scratch paper. "What is all this?"
"Our trip, Edward! Our trip! You may have your choice, where shall we go? India? Argentina? The Americas? Jamaica? Where Edward?"
"I shall follow your lead, miss," he laughed.
"Oh, really? Can we go to India, Edward? I never did get to go!"
"As you wish!"
"There are of course, many things we have to do before we depart. Do you know how to swab decks?" Margaret asked in a dead pan voice.
"I-I'm afraid my education did not cover deck swabbing."
"You do realize that if you are to go, you will be treated very badly, as my servant, and you will have to swab decks, sword fight, and sail."
"Oh, I'm quite accomplished at sword fighting."
Margaret's dead pan voice flew out the window in her excitement. "Do you really fight?"
"Of course," Edward nodded. "I am a gentleman, aren't I?" Edward's knowledge of sword fighting was modest, indeed, but he knew more than his little nymph. All he had learned was from his father, while he was still living, before he gave up on Edward going into the military. Edward had discovered at a young age that he would never be able to purposely do harm to anyone, and his father realized his son's morals were too high to succumb to violence. Edward missed his father acutely. He had been gone for eleven years, Edward had been thirteen at his passing, and just becoming a man. Time had lessened his pain minutely. His mother and siblings were non-supportive to say the least, and he lost his best friend and confidant. His father had respected Edward's morals, and in fact, almost envied his high priorities, knowing full well that, though his daughter and second son may one day have wealth and fame, Edward would be successful wherever he was, under any circumstances. The rest of the immediate family resented the fact that Edward was James Edward Ferrar's favorite. The only problem was.....This had all occurred eleven years ago. In eleven years, Edward had been contaminated with the pettiness of his other family members, and year by year, he became more like them, and less like the man he once was. He still clung vainly to his shredded morals and ways of life, and wrapped them round him like a comforting blanket, or his father's embrace. He stayed away from his mother, Fanny, and Robert as much as possible, and only traveled to visit on occasion.
"Edward," Margaret tugged on his arm, interrupting his reverie. "Edward, I asked if you knew how to sail."
"What? Oh! A little, Margaret - a very little!"
"And will you teach me? Will you teach me how to sail and fight? And I'll teach you how to swab decks?"
"Of course! We shall be a dynamic duo, traveling to the world's far corners, and discovering new and exciting lands."
"But, Edward, the world is round!"
Edward laughed, seeing how she had misconstrued his words. "'The far corners of the earth' is an expression, Margaret. Rather like, 'traveling where no man has ventured before.'"
The breakfast bell rang at that moment, calling their attention.
"I shall make a list of everything we need, and you can teach me how to sail and fight, and we shall be ready to go!"
"I'm awaiting orders, Captain! But for now, why don't we get something to eat?"
"Yes, sir!" Margaret said, saluting.
Edward eyed her playfully and admonished her appearance. "What's this? Whoever taught you how to salute? Stand up straight! Shoulders back! Heels together! Chin up! Now! Keep your hand stiff and rigid!" he started laughing at her swaying form. "You can breathe, Margaret!"
"Thank goodness!" she said, doubling over, gasping melodramatically.
"Very well, then! Shall we be off?"
"Yes, sir!" she saluted like a true soldier and took Edward's proffered arm, leading her into the breakfast room.
"Good morning Fanny," Edward bowed after he entered the sunny room. "Good morning Mrs. Dashwood, Miss Dashwood, Miss Marianne." His reserve returned, and his easiness with Margaret flew out the open window that was letting the beautiful scents of a mild August drift in, giving the occupants wafts of flowers, freshly cut grass, and all other imaginable scents, including the stables.
"Good morning Edward," Fanny greeted. "Has Miss Margaret been monopolizing you already?"
Margaret had entered silently and slouched in her chair as Fanny chatted about her demeaningly. Edward did not reply, noticing his little nymph's dreary countenance.
"How are you and yours this morning, Mrs. Dashwood? I hope you are all well?"
"Oh, yes, quite. Thank you, Mr. Ferrars."
"Maybe you could satisfy my curiosity on a subject. I heard someone playing the piano forte this morning, quite early. Was it any of you?"
"It was I, Mr. Ferrars," Marianne stated. "I am sorry to have disturbed you."
"Oh, no! I had not meant it in that respect. I wished to pay compliment to your beautiful execution and charming voice. I enjoyed your selections immensely."
"Our Marianne is quite the morning person. She rises with the sun daily, and wakes us all pleasantly with her soft music drifting through this ancient house."
"I believe I shall e-enjoy my stay very much if I am to wake each m-morning with such lovely music." Edward was beginning to feel more and more comfortable around the Dashwood's. They were kind and well meaning. They contained none of the pettiness like that which Fanny and Robert had gained from their mother. "I would also like to inquire, if I may, what artist sketched the family portraits hanging on the walls of the parlor, and why Miss Dashwood's picture is not included."
"Edward, you are quite observant and full of questions this morning!"
"I am merely curious, Fanny. Miss Margaret must be an influence," he smiled at his little friend across the table.
"Eleanor draws them!" she happily informed him.
"Do you?"
"Yes, sir. And that is why you do not see my likeness with the others. I have yet to draw my own portrait."
"I h-hope that one day you will. Drawing your own portrait must be very difficult. You....d-do not see yourself as....other people see you," what he had wanted to say had not come off as he wished, and he hoped she had not taken offense in his words.
"No, indeed, sir," she said kindly.
A silence followed, where everyone felt compelled to speak, but no one could think of anything to voice.
Fanny eventually broke the silence. "Edward, you expressed a desire to make use of the stables, did you not? Mr. Dashwood rides every day after noon meal. Perhaps you could join him this afternoon."
"I-I thank you, but I believe I have previous engagements, Fanny."
"Oh, really?" Fanny raised an eyebrow and sipped her tea, but Edward did not feel the need to reply.
Chapter Four
Breakfast was soon over, and Edward retired to the library to read his old friend, Othello, by William Shakespeare. Marianne was again playing the piano forte, in the room across the hall, and the melody was lugubrious and dismal. He had left the large oak door open approximately half of the way, and was somewhat surprised when he heard Miss Dashwood's voice on the other side of it.
"Marianne, can not you play another tune? Mama has been crying this past hour!" Footsteps walked further down the hall, and hesitated when they heard Marianne's next song, which sounded something like the a funeral procession. "I meant something a little more cheerful!" she called. The next sound that met Edward's ears was the slam of what he assumed was the hood over the piano keys.
"I am going for a walk," Marianne stated simply, heading for the door.
"Where are you going?"
"I do not know."
"Well, when will you be back, then?"
"These are trivial matters to me, Eleanor. Do they bear any weight with you, other than your desire to be my keeper?" A silence ensued, during which Edward felt very uncomfortable, as his conscience started carping at him. "I am sorry Eleanor. I should not have spoken so." A stifled sob followed, and Edward felt more horrid every waking second he listened on, but he could not make his presence known. "Come, walk with me," Marianne requested. Two sets of footsteps, this time in the opposite direction, headed toward Norland's entrance. There was a distant click as he heard the door open and close, but no more.
Margaret must be very right. Eleanor is having as hard a time with her father's death as anyone, but she hides it well, and bears her load in silence. I wish there were something I could do. But it is unlikely that they would take any charity from their half brother's brother-in-law. I must simply offer my friendship, and hope that they may use it as a sort of crutch.
Fanny entered the room at that moment and inquired after Miss Dashwood. Did he have any idea where she might be? She wanted to see to the silver, but could not find the key. The servants said that she was the keeper of it.
"N-No, Fanny. I have not seen either Dashwood sister since breakfast." Not the complete truth, but not a complete lie, either. He had not seen them, but only heard. Still, his conscience nagged him.
I would not wish Fanny upon them right now for the world. My intentions were well meaning, and so I must be forgiven. I suppose there are times, such as this instance, when not telling the absolute truth may be acceptable.
He went back to reading Othello, but his mind kept wandering back to Eleanor Dashwood. She was beautiful with her auburn hair, delicate frame, chocolate brown eyes, and long, luscious eyelashes. Not only was she lovely, but extremely talented. Edward did not know much of art, but he was delighted with her sketches of her family, most especially the one of her father that showed him holding a book while sitting in the very chair that Edward now occupied.
He had never met Mr. John Dashwood, Sr., but from Eleanor's representation, and of what Margaret had told him of her father, the picture matched the personality perfectly. Soft, gentle eyes, a broad forehead, classic nose, strong jaw, and a mischievous smile that matched Margaret's own. He was a large man, well built and obviously active up until his death. What Edward had studied most in the painting were his hands. Eleanor had obviously taken extra pains on drawing his hands. The hands that were gentle, yet rough, weathered by the experiences of life, from hardships to sport.
Edward supposed that what he liked best about this man was that he had made his own money. Dashwood had not been a wealthy, respected name until shortly after his son was born, which was approximately five and thirty years ago, when he went into trade. The man had been ambitious enough to make his own way in the world. He took chances, and wasn't afraid to fail. John Dashwood, Jr. was a good sort of person. Edward knew for a fact that he had not married his sister for love, and he pitied him for it.
John must have had more of the influence of his mother.....or perhaps...perhaps his father had a change of heart, and it was too late to start over with John. When he re-married after his wife passed away, he must have married for love. Mrs. Dashwood does not seem the type of person that would marry without it. She and her daughters would not be so distressed by his death unless they truly had feelings of some sort for him. I wonder what will become of them now that John is the owner of the estate. Fanny doesn't take very kindly to them, of that I am sure....but she would not be so cruel as to cast them away, would she?.......Or wouldn't she? The only thing certain about Fanny is that she is uncertain in her actions. John said that his father had requested a promise of him on his deathbed - that he provide for his step-mother and sisters....I wonder what he was planning to do for them. Perhaps living here....No, Fanny would not stand for it, that is sure. Perhaps giving them a residence? No....I am being too kind. If Fanny has talked with John about the matter than they are destitute already.
"Edward!" Margaret called. "Are you ready to teach me to sail?"
"Ready and waiting, Captain Margaret!" he smiled at her as he put aside Othello and stood up.
"How shall we begin?"
"Well...I...uh...Well...How much do you know about boats and sailing and such?"
Margaret wrinkled her nose and scrunched up her face in thought, "Nothing, I suppose...."
"All right, then. Could you get me a pen quill and parchment?"
"To whom are you going to write? I thought you were going to teach me to sail!"
"I am. I'm going to draw you a diagram."
"Diagram?"
"A picture telling you how to do something."
"Oh!" Margaret produced the needed utensils and Edward began to draw. He hadn't taken up this occupation in quite a long time...years, in fact. None-the-less, his ship wasn't too pitiful. For the next week he carried on, teaching Margaret all he knew of sailing, currents, and the world. They even mapped out a route to India, including all the major ports of call they would have to rest at. Do not think, though, that Margaret "monopolized his time," as Fanny would say. No indeed, for only during the mornings did the lessons occur, directly after breakfast until noon meal. From then on he was free to do his liking, from chatting with the Miss Dashwoods, to walking about the grounds, finishing Othello, and conversing with John and Fanny.
Chapter Five
"No, no. When I move to the left, you have to be prepared to block me and then strike an open mark. Do you remember the points of pain I showed you?"
Yes, Edward."
"Name one."
"The abdomen?"
"Yes, very good. And if you are out matched and want to run from your assailants? Where do you strike, then?"
"The shin!"
"Wonderful! Why?"
"Because then they won't be able to give chase."
"Exactly! Now, there are many positions in fighting, but I believe it is first essential that you learn to lunge. Watch me as I do it, then copy my actions saying 'lunge' with me.
"Lunge! Edward uttered, speaking as he was exhaling from the stomach and not the chest area.
"Now you!"
"LUNGE!" Margaret shouted as she stepped forward with her left leg, putting all her weight on it, and jabbing her stick straight ahead of her.
"Yes, yes, but keep your arm stiff. Together now.
"Lunge!.......Lunge!......"
"Very good! I think you're ready to fight. Remember everything I told you now, this is the test that will determine when some evil pirates come your way, whether you survive or not." They fought for a few minutes, Margaret waving her sword about frantically, panicking as Edward's lightly tapped various areas she had left open. Something suddenly caught Margaret's attention and she immediately stopped what she was doing to wave at a first story window. Edward peered towards the window, shading his eyes from the sun, then realized that Margaret was waving at her sister Eleanor. He felt a little ridiculous and sheepishly waved to Eleanor also, from across the lawn, grinning at her like a fool. They were not so far away though, that Edward couldn't see the gentle smile form on her lips, and the hesitant return of the greeting. Margaret grabbed her chance, and jabbed Edward in the stomach viciously with the point of her sword, knocking the wind out of him.
"Oooofff!" Edward doubled over, barely breathing, and sat down hard on the lawn.
"Oh, Edward!" Margaret cried in distress. She started to run towards him, but stumbled, and fell at his feet. Edward had just caught his breath, and was once more doubled over, this time in laughter. "Edward, are you all right?" Margaret asked quizzically as she knelt by his side, thinking him awfully strange to laughing while he was in pain.
"Arrrggghhh!!!" Edward yelled as he jumped to his feet, swinging Margaret into the air. Their laughter floated all over Norland, upstairs and down through open windows, and across the grounds, reaching servants of all sorts, who shook their heads happily, thinking what a change Mr. Ferrars had brought about in their little Mistress Margaret.
Chapter Six
"It was my father's favorite...." she stated wistfully as she dabbed her eyes again with the starched, white, handkerchief and ran her fingers over the embroidered initials: E.G.F. in elegant script. She handed it back, but with a gentle movement of the hand, he indicated that she should keep it.
Edward's heart was touched. The Dashwoods were so....good....He had never met anyone as honest and caring as them. They were a breath of fresh air in the stale, cold, cell that Edward's life had fallen into. He had never truly had an intimate conversation with Miss Dashwood. They had always been accompanied by Margaret or Miss Marianne, or someone else of the family who monopolized their attention. He knew the other two Dashwood sisters quite well, but Edward had yet to really be aquatinted Miss Eleanor Dashwood. A mistake he wished to eradicate.
"Has Margaret shown you her tree house?" Eleanor changed the subject after a brief pause.
"N-No....She has not...........Wou-Would you show me, Miss Dashwood? The weather is very fine." he asked, smiling a tentative, but altogether charming smile.
"It would be my pleasure, Mr. Ferrars," she responded with another smile, and took his proffered arm. When they reached the door, he helped her on with her lace shawl, for there was a slight breeze.
They were traveling down the well maintained field stone walk in silence when Eleanor decided to start conversation.
"Mr. Ferrars, I can not thank you enough for what you have done for Margaret. She is quite changed since you have arrived."
"Is she?
"Very much so...When father passed away, Margaret went into hiding. She started out coming here, to her tree house. When we became wise to her plans, she began finding various other places to conceal herself. She is, as I am sure you have noticed, very imaginative. If she doesn't want to be found, she won't be. The day you arrived, she had been missing for a little more than four hours. We were almost beside ourselves with worry...Then you found her. I don't know whether she had been sneaking from place to place on the sly during those long hours, but....Margaret is more like herself again. She is no longer moody and headstrong...Now she is happy, and moving on with life...she has new hope for the future. We owe all of this to you, Mr. Ferrars. We are greatly indebted to you for the kindness you have shown her."
"Miss Dashwood....I do not deserve your thanks....Anything I have done for Miss Margaret has been purely by chance, and she has reciprocated anything I might have done to help her, three-fold. Therefore, I believe the debt is all mine, and I am eternally grateful."
The two walked along in companionable silence for a few more seconds until they came upon a large, grand old oak tree. The branches spread out to form a perfect base in the center for the tree house. There were old curtains at the windows, and a rope ladder was rolled up and secured, hanging down from a branch. Pulling a dangling rope, Eleanor unrolled the ladder and questioned Edward. "Would you like to go up? I am sure Margaret would not mind, as you are a particular friend of hers."
"Uh...Yes, thank you...." Edward wasn't sure what to do. He hadn't been in a tree house for some time - that was for children - but only Eleanor was there, and nobody else need know of the expedition.
It was lovely. Absolutely beautiful. There was a beautiful view of Norland from the loft, a makeshift table, chair, and candle were inside at one corner, a pillow and many blankets in another.
"Margaret likes to sleep out here occasionally on hot summer nights," Eleanor explained.
"It's beautiful up here....Away from everything...Very secluded. I can see why Margaret loves it so."
"Father made it for her himself a few years ago....She will miss it terribly when we leave Norland..."
"Leave?!" Edward exclaimed in astonishment.
"Yes, of course....I thought you had known. We have only trespassed upon Fanny this long because a suitable home is not to be found on our new income."
Edward longed to ask what their income was - how much John had given them per annum, but he could not bring himself to possibly offend her.
"Perhaps I could be of service? In finding a home....I could inquire with my comrades and determine whether a reasonable living might be set up for you. You do, of course, wish to stay close to Norland."
"Norland....." she said wistfully. "Sir, I thank you, but we can not accept your generous offer. I do believe that our income will not provide the kind of living you may have in thought, and I believe it best that we move relatively far from Norland..."
"Why is that?"
".....We....We need to start over.....Having Norland so close, yet not being able to occupy it, would be like living a dream where you lose your most prized possession. And somewhat like when your goal is only inches from you, yet you will never be able to obtain it."
"Quite understandably...."
A silence ensued, with both of them looking out over the horizons. Edward studied Eleanor's eyes, which were looking out over her childhood home full of memories. She seemed to be trying to memorize it. The view, the minute, the hour, the sun, every tree, every leaf, every flower, as they all were on that beautiful, late August morning.
Miss Dashwood suddenly swooned, and leaned on the railing for support. Edward caught her before she had the opportunity to lose her balance, and held her close as the world stopped spinning inside her head. She didn't extricate herself from Edward's arms immediately, and Edward made no move to separate them, either. The indecency came to both of their minds very quickly, though, and they parted hastily.
"Perhaps w-we should return to the house," Edward proposed. "That is, if you are well enough to make the trip down.
"I will be fine, thank you. The day is passing by and by, and Fanny will be expecting us for luncheon. I believe she has some acquaintances coming for cards and tea afterwards."
"We had better make haste, then." Edward went down the ladder quickly, and after Eleanor had started down and was in reaching distance, Edward put one hand on her waist to make sure she was steady. As she alighted from the bottom rung, he caught a heavenly whiff of lavender which affected his senses. Miss Dashwood pulled the rope to recoil the ladder, and they walked in silence back to the house.
As they approached the pathway, some five minutes later, Edward proposed the thoughts that he had been mulling over in his head since they left the tree house. "Miss Dashwood, I do not suppose you are a horsewoman?"
"I am not very accomplished," she laughed. "But I ride for pleasure, yes."
"I have yet to sample what I hear to be very fine stables here at Norland. Would you consider riding with me on the 'morrow after noon?"
"With pleasure, Mr. Ferrars."
"Edward! Edward, where have you been?" Fanny screeched out of a second story window.
"Hello, Fanny!" Edward called up to her happily, waving.
"Edward! This is no time to be flippant! The ladies will be here any moment now, and you are gallivanting around the country side like a fool! Now I told you that the ladies are all very well to do, and I need to make a good impression on them! A Miss Harrison will be joining them - she's single and possesses a very large dowry! To say nothing of her personality! I've heard all over England that she is simply the sweetest person there ev- Oh Lord! They're here! They're coming up the drive! I see them! Edward! Come in! Make haste, make haste!"
Edward let out a soft chuckle at Fanny's constant pains to set him up with a wealthy gentlewoman, and her ridiculous attempts at throwing herself into a higher society as he walked into the house with Miss Dashwood, who was smiling along.
Edward and Eleanor joined Fanny in the parlor a few minutes later.
"Oh, Miss Dashwood," Fanny accosted her. "I do so wish to make a good impression today. I was wondering if you would perhaps keep an eye on Miss Margaret. Either keep her in her chamber, or outside, unseen."
Edward looked from his sister to Eleanor and back again in astonishment.
"Fa-" he began.
Eleanor interrupted quickly, sending a warning glance at Edward, "Of course, Mrs. Dashwood. I will seek her out, just now." Miss Dashwood set her mouth in a thin line, turned on her heel, and left the room.
"Fanny, wha-"
"Ma'am, the ladies are here. Shall I show them in?" Betsy interrupted what was going to be a tongue lashing for Fanny, as she entered the room without knocking.
"Oh! Yes, yes, send them in, please!" she informed her, then turned to Edward. "Dear brother, has my hair fallen? Is my gown unsuitable?"
He sighed and smiled, then kissed her forehead telling her that she looked fine, and that everything would work out well.
Poor, silly woman. Edward thought. Fanny will never learn.....The Dashwoods are a wonderful example for her, I wonder that she didn't follow them a little more. It would have done her a world of good.
Four young women bustled into the room, and Fanny greeted them all.
"Ladies, I am so glad you all have come!"
"Actually, Mrs. Dashwood, I hope you do not mind, I brought along a friend. She has become my protégé these past few months in Bath, and I simply couldn't part with her," one said. She was a rather short, dark haired women of approximately five and twenty. Her looks were not of a dove, or a crow for that matter. Neither ugly nor beautiful, she was more like a sparrow. "Lucy, come in, dearest!" A young woman stepped cautiously through the doorway and gave a hesitant smile. "Mrs. Dashwood," she continued as she took Lucy by the hand and led her to the hostess. "I wish to introduce you to Miss Lucy Steele."
Chapter Seven
"Miss Steele, it is a pleasure to meet you. I am so glad Mrs. Lenn decided to bring you along," Fanny greeted. "You are a rather unexpected addition, but I assure you, are most welcome. I'd like you to meet my elder brother. Edward? Miss Lucy Steele. Miss Steele? Mr. Edward Ferrars."
Edward had not stopped staring at her since she entered the room. What is she doing here? What does she think she's doing? How shall I behave? Edward realized that everyone was staring at him, and quickly bowed to Lucy. "Miss Steele...."
"Sir...."
"Edward, do you know all the other ladies here?"
"I am afraid not."
"Ah, this is Miss Harrison, Lady McCarthy, Mrs. Lenn, and Miss Larky. Ladies, this is Mr. Edward Ferrars." After the proper greetings were made, Lady McCarthy ventured to begin conversation.
"I had rather hoped that the Dashwood sisters would be here. I have heard much of Miss...Marianne, is it? I have heard much of her musical accomplishments, and of Miss Eleanor Dashwood's artistic abilities. I would have liked to talk with them! Where are they today?" Lady McCarthy asked.
"Ah, the...the ah," Fanny was obviously irritated by Lady McCarthey's questioning. "The girls are busy today. Miss Dashwood is tending to their youngest sister Margaret, and I believe Miss Marianne has gone into town with her mother for the day."
"Attending to her sister? I do hope Miss Margaret is not ill!" Miss Harrison interjected.
"No, no....Miss Margaret is...ah...Miss Margaret is um..."
"Yes, Mrs. Dashwood?" Mrs. Lenn asked.
"Confined for the day, you might say...."
"Really?" Miss Larky asked in astonishment.
"It is renowned that the Dashwood sisters are all very sweet and lovely!" Miss Harrison exclaimed.
"Has it been told falsely?" Lady McCarthy asked.
"Oh....! No! On the contrary! It was quite by her mother's hand, I assure you. I saw it as an accident, and pleaded with her mother to go back on her word, but she would not hear me! The poor girl. My heart goes out to her."
Edward was becoming more and more sick by the moment. Lucy was here, eyeing him suspiciously, and Fanny was spreading horrible lies.
"M-Miss Harrison, does your...is your father by any chance Mr. George Harrison of Abbey Wood?" Edward asked, changing the subject.
"My sweet Lord, of course, Edward!" Fanny exclaimed.
"Mr. Harrison is a dear friend of Mr. Pratt, is he not?" Miss Harrison nodded in agreement. "Mr. Pratt was in charge of my tutelage, and I met him on occasion. Your father is an excellent horseman."
"Yes, father's favorite past time is riding Hamlet, his horse. He also has a love for Shakespeare, as our stables prove. Not only do we have Hamlet, but Othello and Hero as well," she laughed merrily. She was a very attractive women. She was of small build, but somewhat tall, her eyes were dark brown, and they sparkled when she laughed. Her hair was pulled back into some formation, Edward knew not what to call it, and long, dark ringlets cascaded down the back of her graceful neck, ending slightly past her shoulders. Tiny pink roses were fastened in various places in the creases and folds of her silky hair. Her off white dress had tiny pink roses sewn in two, very small clusters, at the bottom of the bodice, and three strands of pink ribbon extended from them each, to the hem of her gown.
After a few more minutes of small talk, everyone was seated for tea. That is, except for Edward. He stood towards the back of the room, near the cord that rang the bell, used to send for the servants.
"Edward, will you not sit down and take tea with us?" Fanny asked.
"Perhaps another time, I thank you. I have previous engagements and must away."
Fanny may be silly and conceited and material, but she wasn't an imbecile, and knew precisely what Edward was talking of. She spoke very plainly next, but kept her words cool and casual, though Edward did not mistake her meaning.
"Brother, she is almost becoming a nuisance. I beg of you to stay, for your own sake. If the matter proceeds any further I may be forced to eradicate the situation."
"I am sorry, I can not. I believe I shall see you at dinner," Edward addressed Fanny. He now turned his attention to the whole group and bowed. "Until we meet again, ladies. It has been a pleasure becoming aquatinted."
Adieus were made, and Edward left the room in search of Eleanor. He found Margaret and her in the barn, sketching a little beagle puppy.
"Good afternoon ladies."
"Hello Mr. Ferrars...." Margaret greeted despondently.
"Hello, sir," Eleanor said as she began to get up.
"P-please stay. May I watch?"
"If you like."
"Why has Fanny sent me away?" Margaret asked quite plainly.
"Uh...Yes.....I came to apologize about that, actually, Miss Dashwood. My sister was terribly out of line."
"It is a matter of little concern. It was not a trouble in the least. I now have time to sketch."
"You are very kind, Miss Dashwood."
"But why are you not among the party, Mr. Ferrars?"
"Ah! Yes, well....I, uh....I probably should be, but I excused myself. I'm afraid I did not find an hour or two of gossip as something to be desired.....What's his name?" he asked, pointing at the dog, changing the subject.
"Samson. He was father's new hunting dog in training. He'll stay here when we leave, and I wanted something to remember him by."
"Samson? My father also had a hunting beagle named Samson."
"I could sketch you in, if you like," she offered.
"Could you?" he asked, obviously pleased, looking into her eyes.
"Yes, of course," she answered blushing slightly. "It would be easier if you sat by him, though."
Edward moved toward the dog, who's head, which had been resting on it's paws, looked up at him with big brown eyes, expecting to be petted.
"He's more of a family dog than a hunting dog, I suppose. He's spoiled rotten."
"Hello, there fellow! Chase any rabbits lately?" Edward told the dog as he scratched his head and sat down on the hay with him.
Samson immediately became energized, and stood up on his stubby hind legs to lick Edward's face. Edward laughed and gently pushed the puppy off him.
"Mr. Ferrars, when will we sail to India?" Margaret asked.
"Oh, I believe in a few days we shall be ready to leave."
"You visit your sister quite a lot. When I grow up, I will never visit Eleanor or Marianne. They will have to come visit me, in my palace! Eleanor may have the east wing, that looks over the gardens and such, so she will have many scenes to paint and sketch." Edward and Eleanor smiled indulgently, and Eleanor began you speak when Margaret cut her off. "Marianne will have the west wing so that she may gaze at the rolling emerald hills as she plays the piano and recites poetry to herself. Mamma shall have the north wing that has the best view of the woods, full of the little creatures that she loves, and you Edw-Mr. Ferrars, shall occupy the south wing that looks over the stables and the huge lake, almost like a sea on my own lawns, where I shall have a ship tied up, ready at your disposal."
The two captivated listeners had began laughing, and Edward addressed a rather important issue. "Wh-Where shall you live, Miss Margaret, if you give away all of the wings of your house?"
"In the middle!" she declared, drawing her knees to her chest as she began another tangent. "We shall be a merry group, we five! Riding, sailing, reading, drawing, singing, and dining together every day!"
Margaret babbled on and on for the better part of an hour until Eleanor announced the picture finished.
"I'm afraid it's not very good." She asked, critiquing her own drawing as he gazed over her shoulder intently.
"I-It's won-wonderful!" he sighed in his mind at his own inability to be articulate. Just say it! he reprimanded himself. ".....I love it....." Edward said.
"There you are," she said, neatly tearing the sheet from her booklet, and handing it to him.
"Th-" Say what you want to say! Stop tripping over your tongue! "Thank you, Miss Dashwood."
"I am going to my tree house to make plans for my castle!" Margaret announced, and scampered off.
"Would you care to join me for tea, Miss Dashwood?" Edward asked, taking her hand to help her up.
"I should like that. Thank you." She smiled one of her elegant yet reserved smiles and dusted off her dress. Seeing that the task was done, Edward offered her his arm, and they exited the barn, and walked up the drive, only to be met by Miss Marianne and Mrs. Dashwood coming up the way, who had just returned from town, laden with purchases no doubt. Edward moved to help them out, and carry some of the packages.
"Eleanor, you must see the new music and book I have gotten!" Marianne exclaimed, stepping from the carriage. "Thank you, Mr. Ferrars," Marianne rushed to her sister with her bundle, and thrust them into her arms. "A book of Cowper and the beautiful music from the concert we saw in Bath not three months ago! Are not they the most beautiful works you have beheld!"
"They are indeed, some of my favorite pieces. Well chosen, Marianne."
"Shall we take tea?" Mrs. Dashwood asked, bringing Edward over to her daughters.
"Yes! Let's do! The roads are simply dusty, and the heat in the carriage is immense," Marianne supplied.
"We were just on our way, Mamma," Eleanor explained.
"Ah! Then I hope you do not mind if we join you?"
"Not at all, madam," Edward invited.
"Are your sister's guests still present?" Mrs. Dashwood asked.
"I believe so, I am not sure. I stayed but little in their company."
As they adjourned into the house, they could hear quiet laughter from the parlor, and so rang for tea in the sun room.
Chapter Eight
Posted on Friday, 9 April 1999
Going through his belongings, sometime later while preparing for dinner, Edward happened upon Lucy's ring, given to him six years prior.
Miss Steele.... He sighed and contemplated the ring. The ring he had never worn again except when he knew he would be in Miss Steele's company, which was maybe once a year, possibly twice. I had almost forgotten you.... He went to the open window and raised his arm, about to throw Miss Steele from him forever.
"Blast!" he cursed aloud, almost shouting, as he withdrew his arm and let it fall to his side. He simply wasn't able to do it. "Blast!" he cursed again, even louder than before, pounding his fist against the wall. He tossed the hideous thing around in his palm for a minute or so, and tossed it onto the bureau. He began pacing as thoughts ran rampant through his mind. I will give it further thought later. Yes....Later....I-I will see how my stay here at Norland goes. If things....If things....Proceed as they are, I will throw Miss Steele off.....Yes! That's what I'll do! Miss Steele's face suddenly appeared before him, unwanted. Her once beguiling smiles now seemed phony. He imagined her laugh and shuddered at the thought. What he had once regarded as sweet was now annoying and shrill.
"Dear Lord, what have I done?" he asked aloud as he flopped on his back onto his bed, running his fingers through his hair, and sighing yet again. "Dear, dear Lord..." he muttered.
She is nothing compared to fair Eleanor. Eleanor? Have I just referred to her by her Christian name? I have never thought of Miss Steele as........Lucy...... He lay there a few minutes, contemplating his predicament. "Edward.....what a mess....." he told himself. "Elean- no, I must stop calling her that.....I am an engaged man...I have given Mi- Lucy my word. As a gentleman, I shall not break a vow, lest I prove the worst of cads. But....! I may, perhaps, lengthen my stay here. Perhaps by a month or so....I am sure Fanny would not mind, though she will most likely suspect a goings on.....Let her suspect! Who can think of one's sister when Miss Eleanor Dashwood is present! Or even absent! Who can forget her, but the most horrible and crude of fools?!"
Chapter Nine
After dinner, around the hour of nine, after Marianne had sang for them a few of the many songs in her repertoire, and Margaret was soundly asleep on her mother's shoulder, Miss Marianne called on Edward to read from her new book of Cowper. He understood her manner to be gracious, but Edward had never done well at reading aloud, as his conscience generally got the better of him. Marianne opened the book to "The Castaway." It was a dismal poem about a sinking ship and one of the sailors entering his watery grave as the rest of the ship mates make it to safety. Alas, poor Edward was interrupted frequently by Miss Marianne Dashwood's impassioned voice.
No braver chief could Albion boast
Not long beneath the whelming brine,
He shouted: nor his friends had fail'd
Some succour yet they could afford;
Nor, cruel as it seem'd, could he
He long survives, who lives an hour
At length, his transient respite past,
No poet wept him: but the page
I therefore purpose not, or dream,
No voice divine the storm allay'd,Obscurest night involv'd the sky, *
Th' Atlantic billows roar'd,
When such a destin'd wretch as I,
Wash'd headlong from on board,
Of friends, of hope, of all bereft,
His floating home for ever left.
Than he with whom he went,
Nor ever ship left Albion's coast,
With warmer wishes sent.
He lov'd them both, but both in vain,
Nor him beheld, nor her again.
Expert to swim, he lay;
Nor soon he felt his strength decline,
Or courage die away;
But wag'd with death a lasting strife,
Supported by despair of life.
To check the vessel's course,
But so the furious blast prevail'd,
That, pitiless perforce,
They left their outcast mate behind,
And scudded still before the wind.
And, such as storms allow,
The cask, the coop, the floated cord,
Delay'd not to bestow.
But he (they knew) nor ship, nor shore,
Whate'er they gave, should visit more.
Their haste himself condemn,
Aware that flight, in such a sea,
Alone could rescue them;
Yet bitter felt it still to die
Deserted, and his friends so nigh.
In ocean, self-upheld;
And so long he, with unspent pow'r,
His destiny repell'd;
And ever, as the minutes flew,
Entreated help, or cried--Adieu!
His comrades, who before
Had heard his voice in ev'ry blast,
Could catch the sound no more.
For then, by toil subdued, he drank
The stifling wave, and then he sank.
Of narrative sincere;
That tells his name, his worth, his age,
Is wet with Anson's tear.
And tears by bards or heroes shed
Alike immortalize the dead.
Descanting on his fate,
To give the melancholy theme
A more enduring date:
But misery still delights to trace
Its 'semblance in another's case.
No light propitious shone;
"Oh, no!" Marianne cried for the tenth time. "Here:
No voice divine the storm allay'd,
No light propitious shone;
When, snatch'd from all effectual aid,
We perish'd each alone:
Marianne recited with power and feeling, her words staccato and legato at different intervals, as if she were the drowning sailor; no hope left, destitute, resigned, morose, but with an angry, lamenting flare. "Can you not feel his despair?.....Try again!" Marianne demanded in an exasperated tone, thrusting the book back into his hands. Eleanor shot her a warning glance that did not go undetected by Edward.
No voice divine the storm allay'd,
No light propitious shone;
When, snatch'd from all effectual aid,
We perish'd each alone:
But I beneath a rougher sea,
And whelm'd in deeper gulfs than he.
Marianne sighed and leaned back in her chair dramatically. After a moment she felt compelled to break the silence. "I believe I shall play the piano forte again. Does anyone have any requests?"
"Will you not play your new piece you have got in town just today?" Eleanor requested.
"I have but sight read it; I will try." She sat down at the piano forte, and slowly began playing the haunting melody. After she had played a sufficient interval, she began singing the refrain.
But my sun's heavenly eyes
Sleep is a reconciling,
Rest you then, rest, sad eyes,Weep you no more sad fountains; **
What need you flow so fast?
Look how the snowy mountains
Heaven's sun doth gently waste.
View not your weeping
That now lies sleeping
Softly, softly, now softly
Softly lies sleeping.
A rest that peace begets.
Doth not the sun rise smiling
When fair at ev'n he sets?
Melt not in weeping,
While she lies sleeping
Softly, softly, now softy
Softly lies sleeping.
After the elegant, peaceful, yet disheartening song ended, Miss Marianne closed the piano forte's cover over the keys and announced that she was retiring for the night. Betsy came in to wake Margaret and help her to her bed, and Edward bid good night also.
A good night it was not, though, for Edward tossed and turned all night long.
I am engaged to Miss Steele......I am not engaged to Miss Dashwood....I feel for Miss Dashwood......I thought I....felt something for Miss Steele......... "O, I am fortune's fool!" he quoted in his mind as he covered his head with his pillow and tried to stop all thoughts from coming and going in his brain, to no success. He thought of how Miss Eleanor Dashwood acted towards him compared to Miss Lucy Steele's behavior. Miss Dashwood was calm and serene, modest and motherly. She was neither shy nor outspoken; Miss Steele was hyper and edgy. She was flirtatious and forward, genteel yet childish. Miss Steele's affection was open and demanding. Edward knew not of Miss Dashwood's feelings, only his own, which he was not at all sure of.
I will decide on the 'morrow.....during our ride....
* "The Castaway" ~ Cowper
** "Weep You No More Sad Fountains" ~ Anonymous