Willoughby's Return (14 page)

“Let me guess, Miss Dashwood,” he responded, “Lady Middleton and her sweet mother are watching us and, no doubt,
trying to catch the essence of our conversation. Hmm, let me see. I must give them something on which to ponder and discuss.”

He selected a dish of pink, heart-shaped marchpane and, taking one between thumb and forefinger, proffered it toward her, proclaiming in an audible voice for all to hear, “Miss Dashwood, may I offer my heart? Pray, do not leave me in suspense, I beg you. Do not break it, but take it and devour it whole!”

Margaret felt mortified, especially when she saw Lady Middleton exchange knowing glances with Mrs Jennings. Everyone laughed when Margaret refused to take the heart and even more so when Henry begged again and it was only when Mrs Jennings spoke that the table fell silent.

“Colonel Brandon, where is your dear wife? Has she not come in to supper? I cannot think where she can be and for that matter, I cannot recall when I saw her last. I hope she is not ailing; she did look a trifle pale after the last dance. Bless my soul, but I must say it is probably wiser that she sit down more often.”

Margaret looked about the room and, in so doing, caught her sister Elinor's solemn expression. They had each perceived the hints that Mrs Jennings was making and knew their sister would be far from pleased. But apart from that neither of them could see Marianne and both recognised the solicitous mien in the other.

JUST BEFORE THE SUPPER bell had sounded, sending the throng swarming like hornets to the dining room, Marianne had been waylaid by her butler.

“There is a gentleman asking to speak with you, my lady,” he said in a low voice, “a Mr John Willoughby. He wishes a private interview with you. Shall I send him away or summon the Colonel?”

Marianne had felt very tempted by the offer to send for help but knew that she would have to be the one to grant him an interview. She owed him that much at least, and she was gratified by his conduct. He had not come waltzing through the door expecting to be greeted with open arms.

“No, that will not be necessary, Thompkins, I will come right away,” she answered, smoothing her gown and pushing back a strand of hair that had escaped from her headdress.

“Very well, madam, he is waiting in the small parlour.” Thompkins led his mistress away, leaving her at the door of the room but remaining outside in case he was needed. He did
not like the idea of gentlemen conducting audiences with Mrs Brandon in the middle of the night. He felt that the Colonel ought to have been with his wife or seen him himself, especially as the gentleman had been so adamant that he should talk only to Mrs Brandon. It was not right.

John Willoughby was standing, leaning against the mantle-piece when she entered the room. He turned with a bow and as he did so, Marianne tried to compose her feelings. She imagined that she must look no more sophisticated or grown up than when they had first met. Finding it difficult to look upon his countenance, she was unable to meet his gaze when at last she found the courage to raise her eyes. Why did she have so little confidence when faced with his impeccable figure? He looked more imposing than ever as he towered before her, dressed for the evening in a black coat that turned his eyes into dark stones of glistening granite. She tried to tell herself that she should not be afraid, that she could withstand any meeting. After all, she was the mistress of Delaford, with this grand house and her noble husband behind her. But as he spoke, all those feelings fragmented and vanished like the vapour frosting the windows. She was seventeen again and just as gauche.

“I had intended to come to the ball this evening at your invitation and indeed, the Lawrences are expecting me, Mrs Brandon,” he said with some agitation.

“Yes, Mr Willoughby, I am aware of that fact,” was all Marianne managed to say.

“I do not imagine, however, that my presence here is really desired,” he continued, pacing across the room to stand within inches of her.

“I do not understand, Mr Willoughby,” Marianne replied, drawing courage from the fact that he seemed far more ill at ease
than she. “If that is what you have suspected or surmised, then I cannot think why you are here or why you would wish to have it confirmed.”

“I suppose I hoped, in a small way,” he asserted, “that you might really have decided to forgive me and welcome me into your home. I realise it was a vain hope. I can see by your very expression that I shall not find a welcome here from you. I hardly expected to find one from your husband, but I hoped to find forgiveness in you.”

“Mr Willoughby, it is not as simple as you make it appear; it is not a question of forgiveness. Cannot you see my situation or that of my husband?”

“I see that I have little choice in the matter,” he sighed.

“Well, now you have come to that conclusion, I will leave you to make your decision,” Marianne declared, feeling quite strong and concluding that she had the better of him, despite the violence of her heart beating in her chest. “You must decide whether it would be prudent to stay, to join your friends and face my husband, or whether it might be an altogether better idea to go back to Exeter or wherever you are residing at present.”

“Why did you come to Allenham that day?” he said, fixing her with his dark eyes.

Marianne looked away. She could not tell him the truth and she knew if she allowed him to look too closely, he would know her innermost sensations. “I thought your house was on fire, I could see plumes of smoke,” she lied, picking up a book from the table and examining its cover closely. She breathed deeply and met his eyes. “I came out of curiosity.”

“And were you curious to see what had become of Allenham?” he begged.

“I do not know why you are asking these questions, Mr Willoughby,” Marianne cried with exasperation, slamming the book down again on the table. “You should know that Allenham holds no interest whatsoever, as far as I am concerned. Now, tell me, Mr Willoughby, what is your decision?”

“Please answer my questions, Mrs Brandon. Would you have me stay? Do you wish me to go? I will do as you bid. I do not want to cause undue suffering. If my presence will be an embarrassment, and I fear it must, I am ready to depart. But I will not go until I have heard it from your lips.”

Marianne hesitated for only a second before she heard her voice proclaiming her wishes, with clarity and determination. “Then go, Mr Willoughby. I wish you to leave Delaford immediately.”

He stood, his head bent in contemplation before he looked up at her. Marianne could barely witness the sorrow in his eyes. He looked as though he had been struck and his expression was like that of a wounded animal, whose eyes begged compassion. Wanting to tell him that he could stay, that she wished to offer him her hand in friendship, she remained silent and bit her lip. Staying, she knew, was not an option she could place at his disposal.

“If it pleases you, madam, I shall take my leave,” Mr Willoughby cried, making a low sweep and walking out without a backward glance.

Marianne returned to the dining room as soon as she was able. Telling William about their visitor was a priority, but if she could avoid doing so just yet, she would. She was relieved that there had been no scene and most of all, that Willoughby had desired no confrontation with William. Her spirits rose. Moving about the supper tables, she chatted and laughed as though she
hadn’t a care and by the time she came under Mrs Jennings's scrutiny, she gaily dismissed her enquiries with a pretty tale about having to speak to the housekeeper on important matters. But she had to tell someone of her ordeal and as supper came to an end and the whole room flocked back to the ballroom, she was able to commandeer her sisters, who listened with much sympathy. As she came to the conclusion of her story, who should appear before them but Henry Lawrence, eager to dance with Margaret once again. As Margaret accepted readily and skipped off to the dance floor, Marianne could not help but notice Elinor's countenance.

“What is the matter, Elinor? I know that expression of old, you do not look at all happy. Do you think that I should have said more to Mr Willoughby?”

“No, Marianne, it is our sister I have my concerns about,” Elinor replied, watching Margaret and Henry eagerly taking their places in the set. “She has danced too many times with that young man. He is rather too enthusiastic for my liking. And I cannot say that I am at all happy about Mr Lawrence's connection with Mr Willoughby, whatever might be said on the latter now being a respectable character.”

“Henry is utterly charming, Elinor. He is just like his father. And his connection with Willoughby is not really based in friendship but in business. I am sure that Henry's desire for a house of his own is at the heart of their association.”

“Nevertheless, Margaret should not be throwing herself at him like that!” Elinor gestured toward the floor where the happy couple danced, apparently with eyes and ears for no one else. Margaret was gazing up at Henry with a face shining with adoration. Marianne observed the picture they made with feelings of
pleasure. Margaret's animated dancing, her sparkling eyes, and vivacity told her all she needed to know. Her sister might deny it in the morning, but Marianne was convinced that Margaret was falling in love. Everything was working out exactly as she had planned. “Elinor, you are being too silly for words. It is clear he is as smitten as she. What a match it will be!”

Elinor opened her mouth to respond once again, when the sisters were both joined by Sir Edgar, beaming from ear to ear. “Why, it does my old heart good to see such splendid dancing. What a handsome couple they make.”

“They do indeed, Sir Edgar,” Marianne heartily agreed, nudging her sister to make a response. Elinor smiled and nodded her assent, though Marianne knew that her warm acknowledgement belied her true feelings.

“I think Mr Willoughby must have run into problems at Allenham. What a pity, he was looking forward to joining our party. I expect he is most upset,” said Sir Edgar. “But Henry has been so occupied that I do not think he has even noticed his absence,” he went on. “He certainly seems to be enjoying Miss Margaret's company.”

“Indeed, I would venture to say that the delight appears to be on both sides,” Marianne replied with a laugh.

“I have been forming a little plan,” Sir Edgar continued, “a little scheme which I hope will be to all our liking. The Goose Fair at Colystone is to be held next Saturday and I wonder if it is the sort of amusement that you might both enjoy, Mrs Brandon, Mrs Ferrars. I would be honoured if you would join us to make a party to attend the Fair, with the Colonel, Mr Ferrars, and all your other guests, of course. I am sure Henry would like it above all things if Miss Margaret were to come, too.”

“I should love that, Sir Edgar,” declared Marianne with excitement. “And I can speak for the Colonel, too. I know he will love to come. I’m sure such an outing will be more than agreeable to Margaret, also. I cannot speak for my mother, the Middletons, or Mrs Jennings of course, but we will be delighted to come!”

“Unfortunately, Mr Ferrars and I are otherwise engaged,” answered Elinor in a serious tone. “We have our visiting to do on Saturday and one of our parishioners, Mrs Thomas, is quite unwell at present. She looks forward to our calling on her so much that I would hate to disappoint the poor old lady.”

“Surely you could miss Mrs Thomas's visit just once, Elinor. We will have such fun!” Marianne entreated.

“No, I could not upset the dear lady, and she is not the only one who relies on us, you know. There are many in the village that look forward to seeing Edward. He would not miss his duties, Marianne.”

“Well, my dear,” Sir Edgar butted in, “I hope you shall visit us up at Whitwell on another occasion. Bring your children too, I always love to hear the sound of laughter in the house, and now Henry is grown it is not the same. Still, we can always hope that the place will be filled with grandchildren, one of these days. Let us hope it will not be too long before that happy event, eh, Mrs Brandon?” Sir Edgar winked at Marianne, who could not help smirking also. He excused himself with a bow, saying he would mention his thoughts and ideas to Henry, and then left them.

“See, Sir Edgar thinks they are as smitten as I do,” Marianne announced with triumph.

“Oh, Marianne, it is too soon to be making such judgements. They have only just met and we know nothing of his
character. His family may be good but that is not enough for a suitable marriage in my opinion. I do not understand how you can be marrying off our sister before you know anything about Henry Lawrence.”

“I have seen enough to make my judgement and if Margaret loves him, that is good enough for me,” Marianne retorted. “And now, if it is not too late, I shall go and claim the last dance of the evening with my dear husband. Come, Elinor, where is Edward? Let us make merry!”