Expectations of Happiness (10 page)

Marianne could hear him as he proceeded to thank Willoughby, and then there was Willoughby's response in that unmistakable voice—soft-spoken, without fuss, claiming that he had only done what any good neighbour would have done—he could not have left the poor horses stranded without feed or water, so he'd sent a farrier and one of his grooms to look to their needs. There were further discussions about the repairs to the Percevals' vehicle, and not long afterward, they heard the front door close and Mr Perceval re-entered the breakfast room to announce that Mr Willoughby would be back in about an hour to drive Mrs Brandon and the Misses Hawthorne to their respective homes, which Mr Perceval considered a huge favour, since their own carriage was unavailable.

“It is very good of him to offer, and I hope it will suit you, Mrs Brandon—I know you wish to be back at Delaford this afternoon. As for Miss Harriet and Miss Hannah, I know your mama will not mind, because Mrs Brandon will be there with you, and of course your brothers can ride with you as you go. I realise that Mr Willoughby is not known to your family, but I am sure there can be no objection—he seems a jolly decent fellow. I cannot begin to thank him for all he has done, I cannot imagine how we should have got on without his help,” he said, and sat down to have more breakfast.

The Misses Hawthorne made no objection to the arrangement, and Marianne could hardly have protested, so she said nothing at all, although she was more than a little shaken at the thought that once the Hawthornes had been conveyed to their home—a few streets away—Willoughby would be driving her all the way to Delaford. For the first time, they would be alone together, and she could not deny some feelings of unease.

Meanwhile, at the parsonage in Delaford, Elinor had awakened to a Sunday morning like no other. Edward was away, and the curate from another parish would be arriving to conduct the morning service at ten. It would be a grave discourtesy if she did not attend and invite him to morning tea afterward. Yet, it was one day when presenting herself at church was not her priority; rather, she was keen to discover if Marianne was back at the manor house after her expedition to Glastonbury. Going into Margaret's room, she found her awake, sitting up in bed, taking tea. When Elinor explained her problem, Margaret declared that she had no particular desire to go to church and could quite easily walk over to the manor house and inquire if their sister was at home.

“Would you? Oh Margaret, what would I do without you?” cried Elinor, and Margaret felt deeply sorry to see how disturbed her sister was about Marianne.

“Elinor, of course I shall; but you must not take this so much to heart, you cannot worry about everything Marianne does or does not do, you will make yourself ill. Let me discover if she is home, and if she is, I'll persuade her to come back with me to the parsonage and tell us all about the Percevals and the trip to Glastonbury. Wouldn't you like that?” asked Margaret.

“Indeed I would; that would mean Marianne is quite safe—at least as far as we can tell. It will be such a relief to know that nothing untoward has occurred. I know I ought not to worry but, Margaret, I cannot trust Willoughby and, sadly, I have not sufficient confidence in our sister to believe that she will resist him. With Colonel Brandon away for some weeks in Ireland, I cannot help but fear for her.”

Margaret, realising that the best thing she could do for her sister was to ascertain if Marianne was safely back from Glastonbury, went down to breakfast, and, having seen Elinor leave to attend church, set off to walk across the woodland to Delaford Manor. It was an unusually still morning, with soft swirls of mist drifting gently through the trees, and as she walked, Margaret could not resist the feeling of nostalgia for her childhood, when she, as the youngest in the family, had been allowed a good deal of freedom in organising her life. She'd had very little supervision and even less responsibility as their mother, concerned with their father's health and, later, the well-being of her two elder daughters, had largely left Margaret to her own devices, which meant she had spent many hours wandering through the meadows and woods of the Norland Estate.

And it had done her no harm at all, she thought, as she crossed the lane that ran along the boundary of the manor and entered the garden, where a large lilac tree was just coming into bloom. The lilac reminded her of the cottage in Oxfordshire and the need to go down to the post office in the village and send a message to her friend Claire, advising that her return would be delayed.

As she walked up the drive, a young man on horseback rode past her and delivered a message to the maid who opened the door. By the time Margaret reached the entrance, the maid, Molly, had seen her and was waiting at the door for her. When she asked, “Is Mrs Brandon home from Somerset?” the girl replied, “No, ma'am, and the man who brought this said Mrs Brandon had been delayed on account of an accident to the vehicle in which they were travelling. I hope it is not bad news, ma'am,” the girl cried, clearly concerned for her mistress.

Margaret snatched the note from the maid. Seeing it was not addressed to anyone in particular—just directed to Delaford Manor—and since Colonel Brandon was away, Margaret assumed it would not signify if she opened it. As she tore it open, she saw written in a bold hand the information that Mr Perceval regretted to advise that Mrs Brandon's return to Delaford would be delayed until later that afternoon, because a minor accident had damaged his carriage. It continued:

Be assured however, that arrangements have been made for all our guests to be conveyed safely to their homes later today, through the kind offices of a very generous neighbour—Mr Willoughby of Somersetshire.

Margaret stood in the hall, stunned, until Molly asked, “Is the mistress all right, ma'am? Does it say when she will be back?” Conscious of the need to reassure the girl, who would undoubtedly convey the information to the rest of the staff at the manor house, Margaret hastily said, “Oh yes, Molly, it seems the Percevals' carriage has been damaged in an accident and they have arranged to have their guests, including Mrs Brandon, conveyed to their homes by a neighbour. She should be here this afternoon. I shall return to the parsonage now and give the news to Mrs Ferrars; but, Molly, when my sister does return, would you please make sure that she sends a message over to the parsonage to let us know she is home safe and well? Mrs Ferrars will be waiting anxiously for the news.”

Having received assurances from the maid, Margaret tucked Mr Perceval's note into her pocket and set off for the village, where she sent an express off to her friend Claire Jones advising that she would be returning on the Tuesday morning coach from Dorchester. It was quite clear to Margaret that Elinor would need company at least until she was sure all was well with their sister; she was likely to be even more apprehensive, now that it had been revealed, contrary to their expectations, that Mr Willoughby may have been one of the party that went to Glastonbury. Either that or he was a friend of the Percevals, who had been called upon to assist them with transporting their guests. What Elinor would make of it Margaret was uncertain; whatever it was, she was sure her sister would have even less peace of mind than before.

Returning to the parsonage, she found Elinor in the parlour, entertaining the curate to tea. He was a thin, febrile-looking young man with a strangely deep voice and a great fondness for Elinor's fruit cake. Margaret was impatient for him to be gone. When at last he departed, having delayed his exit as long as possible while he thanked Mrs Ferrars for her kind hospitality, Margaret rushed downstairs and indicated to her sister that she had important news.

Elinor was calm, cheerful even, as she gathered the tea things onto the tray and carried them into the kitchen. “Was Marianne home? Did you see her?” she asked, and when Margaret shook her head and indicated by rolling her eyes that she thought they ought be going outdoors for a talk, Elinor's expression changed.

“Why, Margaret, what has happened?” she asked, and as they went out and walked in the direction of the shrubbery, Margaret handed her the note and said, “That note from Mr Perceval was delivered just as I arrived at the front door of the manor house—you can read what it says.”

Elinor gasped as she read it and clutched at her sister's arm. “Oh Margaret, this is dreadful news—it is surely the very worst thing—the Percevals clearly know nothing of their previous association and have calmly delivered Marianne into Willoughby's care! I cannot think of anything worse! Whatever is to be done now?” she cried, and there were tears welling in her eyes. It was clear that Elinor now thought the very worst had happened, and unless Margaret could convince her otherwise, she would surely feel the need to race off to the manor house to ascertain if Marianne was safe. Margaret did not believe that any good would come of such action and set out to advise her sister that it would be best to await some message from Marianne.

“I did ask, very particularly, that a message should be sent to you as soon as Marianne arrived, so that we may know she was safely home. I think we should wait at least until some news is received. It is entirely possible that all will be well and Mr Willoughby will simply convey her to Delaford Manor and that will be an end of it,” she said, but even before she had finished speaking, she could see that Elinor was unconvinced. Her countenance made it clear before she spoke, “You cannot possibly know that, Margaret, not if you know what Willoughby is, not after you have heard him speak and understood the depth of his perceived grievances. Not only does he claim that Marianne is the great love of his life, whose loss means he will never know happiness again, he also carries a grudge—a most terrible hatred against Colonel Brandon, whom he blames for all his misery, which gives him two reasons for wanting to use such an unexpected opportunity. And though he did appear to accept that he had done great wrong by deceiving Marianne, he is also completely selfish and I cannot believe that he will let such a chance slip.”

Though Margaret had not known it at the time, she had learned from both her mother and Elinor of Willoughby's visit to Cleveland House. Despite her strong condemnation of his actions, Elinor had shown a degree of compassion that had surprised Margaret at the time, but with the passage of years following the marriages of Elinor and Marianne, she had moved out of the intimate circle of their family in Dorset, and Margaret had lost interest in Willoughby's brief but intense affair with her sister. Elinor's remarks raked up the memory, but she could not feel as perturbed as her sister, who doubtless still carried some weight of responsibility for Marianne. Still, Margaret begged Elinor not to allow her concern for their sister to besiege her mind to the extent that it would make her ill with worry.

“I understand your concern, Elinor, but surely it is unlikely that in the course of one such encounter—a journey of perhaps an hour or two at the most—he could cause Marianne to subvert…” she began cautiously, but Elinor did not let her finish.

“Do not forget that in the course of a few minutes, when he rescued her after her fall and carried her home to the cottage in the rain, she had been completely captivated, to the extent that Willoughby became the epitome of what she expected of a man. I know that she is several years older and she is a married woman now, but our sister has not quite given up on those romantic notions yet, nor has she attained a level of maturity that would let her turn her back on them,” she said. Elinor's distress seemed intractable; Margaret had almost given up on persuading her to adopt a less woeful outlook, when the doorbell rang and the maid opened it and found outside a servant from the manor house. He had, he told the girl, a message from Mrs Brandon for her sister Mrs Ferrars. Hearing his words, Margaret and Elinor rushed to the door. He was to say, he said, that Mrs Brandon was back safe and well from Somerset. She was, however, very tired from her journey and had gone directly to bed. Elinor and Margaret looked at one another, thanked the servant, and instructed him to tell Mrs Brandon that her sisters would call on her tomorrow. They then returned to the parlour, embraced, and wept with relief.

***

When Edward Ferrars returned home a few hours later, he found his wife and sister-in-law enjoying tea and toasted muffins with the two boys in the parlour and eager to hear all his news. Elinor had already decided that she would not involve her husband in what might or might not be a problem with Marianne and Willoughby. In any event, she had argued, they could not know whether there was a problem until they had seen Marianne on the following day. Margaret had agreed that 'twere best not to worry Edward with any of it. She knew that her brother-in-law, busy with matters of the parish and his own family, would probably find it an imposition to be burdened with such a question at this time, particularly since they could provide very little evidence of a problem. Like most men, she thought, Edward would attribute it to their excessive anxiety about Marianne.

At dinner that night, therefore, their conversation was almost entirely about the successful meetings of the anti-slavery campaign that Edward had attended together with Dr Bradley King. He was quite elated with the success of their lobbying, which had elicited interest at a high political level in the Parliament, and was genuinely hopeful that Mr Wilberforce would win the day and get a bill passed, banning slavery in Britain and her colonies.

“If we could only get as many people interested in our campaign as Shelley and Byron are attracting to the cause of the Greeks, we could do a great deal better,” he said, but added quickly, “but I am very hopeful, if only because Wilberforce is such a persuasive speaker and his sincere belief in the cause is so clear. He cannot fail.”

“There is a great deal of conversation about it, but do you really believe that Parliament will pass a law to stop the loathsome traffic?” Margaret asked. She had heard much talk on the subject in Oxfordshire, but was far less confident that action would follow. “I understand that many wealthy British business enterprises are profiting from the use of slaves in the Caribbean colonies, and they are none too keen to stop the practice.”

Edward agreed, “Indeed, you are right, Margaret, there is a strong lobby of businessmen in the colonies and here in Britain, too, whose enterprises do well out of slave labour in the cotton fields and fruit orchards of America and the Caribbean islands, but I am assured the tide is turning. Many more people are speaking out against it, and we have at last got the churches involved,” he said hopefully.

“And so they should be,” said Elinor, who had not entered the conversation earlier and appeared rather lost in thought. Margaret was certain her sister was still troubled about Marianne—despite her assurances that she was not.

Later that night, as she packed her trunk in preparation for her departure on Tuesday, there was a soft knock on her door and Elinor entered. “Edward has gone to bed; he is very tired after the journey from Bridgwater, and he has to be awake early for matins tomorrow,” she whispered as she came to sit on Margaret's bed. “I am so grateful that you stayed, Margaret; I hope when we see Marianne tomorrow, everything will become clearer. It will be obvious if she is out of sorts and upset—I do hope she is not—and perhaps she will tell us about the meeting with Willoughby and we can judge from her demeanour if she has been affected by it or not.”

“Do you expect that she will tell us?” Margaret asked, not entirely confident that their sister would reveal that Willoughby had been one of the party. But Elinor had no doubts at all. “Indeed, I do believe she will. It would surely be a way of asserting her complete indifference to him and demonstrating to all of us that he means no more to her than a casual acquaintance, whom she has met again by mere chance. Do you not think she will?” Margaret was silent for a while before she answered the question, “I hope she will; as you say, it will demonstrate clearly that he means nothing to her and that means you need no longer fear for her as you do.”