Who Needs Mr Willoughby? (37 page)

“He should’ve told you,” Elinor agreed, and sighed. “But he didn’t. I imagine he wasn’t thinking too clearly.”

“He was thinking clearly enough when he asked Sophia to marry him, and barely two weeks later.” Her words grew bitter. “He put his need for money before his need for me…six hundred thousand pounds’ worth, to be exact.”

“He
did
love you, Mari,” Elinor said, her eyes searching her sister’s. “I do believe that. But Lacey’s lies cost Willoughby his inheritance, and destroyed his relationship with his aunt; he knew he couldn’t provide for you. He let you go instead. Maybe, under the circumstances, that was the kindest thing he could’ve done.”

As Marianne squeezed her sister’s hand and let it go, the sound of someone stirring nearby caught her attention, and she glanced at the form sprawled in the armchair. Her heart quickened. “Matthew?”

He sat up, his face still blurred with sleep. “You’re awake.”

She nodded. “So are you, I see.”

He passed a hand over his face and got up. “Yes. I’ll leave you alone to talk to your sister,” he said, and glanced at Elinor as he turned to go.

“No, stay.” Marianne’s voice was low but determined. “Please.”

He turned back and eyed her, his expression guarded. “I’m only in the way here.”

“It was you, wasn’t it?” Marianne said, her eyes searching his. “You came after me, and found me during that awful storm, and you brought me back to Delaford.”

Surprise flickered on his face. “I…yes, I did. We were all very worried about you.”

“Thank you,” she whispered. “Thank you for bringing me back.”

There was an awkward pause. “I only did what anyone would’ve done,” he said, and shrugged.

“No.” She shook her head. “
Anyone
didn’t come and find me and bring me back,” she said softly. “You did.” She hesitated. “You brought me back, in more ways than one.”

Elinor cleared her throat and stood up. “I’ll just go downstairs and tell mum and Colonel Brandon that you’re awake,” she murmured. “I’m sure they’ll both be very relieved to hear the news.”

“Thanks, Elllie.” Marianne smiled at her, and hesitated. “Do me one favour, though?”

“Of course. Anything you like.”

“Let me and Matthew have a few minutes alone before you send mum and the colonel up, please –?”

Surprise skimmed her sister’s face, but she nodded her understanding. “All right. It won’t be easy, but I’ll do my best. You know how determined mum is.”

“Block the stairs if necessary,” Marianne said, and managed a smile. “Just keep her away for a bit.”

Elinor sighed. “You
do
like to ask for the impossible, don’t you?” She made her way across the room and paused in the doorway. “I can probably give you ten minutes. I very much doubt I can manage any longer than that.”

“Ten minutes should be enough.” Marianne smiled. “Thanks, Ellie.”

With a nod and an answering smile, Elinor left, and shut the door quietly behind her.

Matthew, still standing by the bed, regarded her with a wary expression. “What was that all about? What can’t you say to me that you can’t say in front of your sister?”

Marianne shifted and sat up, and as he leaned forward to plump up the pillows behind her, she met his eyes. “I can’t tell you how much I appreciate what you did, or tell you how sorry I am for treating you so shabbily for so long.”

“You haven’t done.”

“I have,” she said firmly. “I’ve taken you for granted, I never thanked you for all the things you’ve done for me – giving me a job, rescuing me that day when Lady Violet’s car was stolen, helping me get her car
back
…and in return for your trouble, you lost the badger fund and got a black eye into the bargain, and all because of me.”

His gaze, so unflinchingly direct, remained on hers. “I’d do it all again, without question.”

“Even getting a black eye?” she asked, surprised.

“Even that.” He sat down on the bed beside her, and the mattress creaked slightly with the motion. “I did those things because I wanted to, Marianne. I did them all for you.”

“For – me?” Scepticism was plain on her face.

“Said so, didn’t I?” he retorted. Although his words were gruff, he smiled. “Not that you don’t irritate the life out of me sometimes, with that business about your purse – ‘it’s not a purse, it’s a
handbag
’,” he mimicked, and raised his brow. “And those faffy shoes of yours, and the way you never let me finish a sentence, and –”

“I don’t,” she protested, indignant.

“You do,” he said firmly. “You just did.” The tense line of his jaw softened. “It’s one of the things I love most about you.”

Love
. The word hung between them, magical and unexpected.

“When I imagined you in my bed,” he confessed, his weight warm and reassuring beside her, “I didn’t picture it quite like this.”

She blinked, and blushed. “You…imagined me? In your
bed
?” A flush of heat warmed her cheeks.

“Of course I did. And more than once.” He looked away and glanced around the room. “But not here, surrounded by rugby pennants, and my old trainers and schoolbooks.”

“Where, then?” Her voice was the merest thread.

He took her hand and curled it up in his. “At Greensprings. In my old four-poster, that creaks every time I move. I like to imagine you there, with me.” He paused. “I’d like to make it a reality, and not just wishful thinking.”

Marianne parted her lips, and her eyes widened. “Matthew –”

“Don’t say anything. We’ll talk about it later. Right now,” he added as he squeezed her hand and lifted it to his lips, “I just want you to rest, and get better.”

She caught her lower lip in her teeth and smiled. “Spoken like a true doctor.”

The sound of footsteps coming down the hall, of voices and exclamations, preceded a knock on the door. “Marianne?” Mrs Holland asked, and her voice carried a touch of suspicion. “What’s going on in there? Are you awake? May the colonel and I come in?”

Marianne met Matthew’s eyes and suppressed a giggle. “Should we let them in, do you think?” she whispered.

“Aye. I suppose we should,” he agreed, and leaned forward to brush his lips against hers. “If we must.”

Chapter 52

“I’m glad to be home again,” Mrs Holland declared on Sunday afternoon. “Although Colonel Brandon’s dinner was lovely and his hospitality left nothing to wish for, after last night’s events, I confess I could do with a rest.”

Elinor brought cups of tea to her mother and sister and set them down on the kitchen table. “I’m just glad Mari’s feeling better.”

“Not half as glad as me,” Marianne said. “What a way to behave at the colonel’s dinner. I’m ashamed of myself, acting like such an idiot.”

“You had an unwelcome shock.” Elinor sat down beside her. “None of us knew Kit got himself engaged to someone else, or that the wedding would take place today.”

Marianne sipped her tea with a thoughtful expression. “I suppose he’s married by now.”

“You say that so calmly,” Mrs Holland observed, and covered her daughter’s hand with her own. “You needn’t pretend, or hide your feelings in front of us, dearest.”

“I’m not pretending.” She regarded her mother in surprise. “And I’m not hiding my feelings. Truly. I hope Kit – and Miss Grey – are happy together.”

“But…what’s changed your mind?” Elinor asked, puzzlement plain on her face. “You were so upset last night that you ran out in a rainstorm and collapsed practically in front of Willoughby’s door.”

“Ugh. Don’t remind me.” Marianne grimaced. “What a wally I’ve been over him. Over a lot of things,” she added, and pressed her lips together. “But no more.”

“You don’t mean, Mari,” her mother asked hopefully, “that you and Matthew…?”

“Oh, it’s early days yet, but I think – I hope – that he and I –” she blushed and broke off. “We’ve both been
such
incredible idiots.”

“You’ve both been hurt. That makes people cautious,” Elinor said. She gazed into her tea with an unreadable expression. “Anyone who’s had their heart broken once will hardly want to risk it again.”

The sound of the doorbell rang through the house.

“Oh, bother,” Mrs Holland sighed. “Who on earth could that be, and so late on a Sunday afternoon? Would one of you girls get the door? I simply cannot face making polite conversation with anyone just now.”

“I’ll get it,” Marianne volunteered, and went into the hallway to answer the door. “Lady Violet,” she said as she saw the older woman on the doorstep. “Come in. Mum and Elinor are in the kitchen, having tea.”

“Thank you, dear.”

If she noticed Marianne’s pallor, Lady Violet gave no sign, but sailed into the kitchen straight away.

“Hello Lydia, Elinor,” she pronounced as she went to the table and took a seat. Her expression, normally so jovial, was troubled. “I’ve just come back from town and I have news.”

“Oh? What sort of news?” Mrs Holland asked. “Good news, I hope?”

“Let me get you some tea,” Elinor offered, and got up to take another cup down from the cupboard.

“Thank you.” Lady Violet let out a sigh. “As to your question, Lydia – my news isn’t good, and I’m afraid it won’t be welcome, not at all. But it has to be said.” She leaned forward. “And I wanted you all to hear it from me, before you hear it from anyone else…someone like Lady Middleton, for example.”

Marianne grimaced. “Horrible old cow.” She remembered how Lady Middleton’s gaze had swept over the two Holland girls at Edward’s party so dismissively, and the memory of her indifference still stung.

“Well. There’s no easy way to say it, so…” Lady Violet drew in a breath and let it back out. “I’ll just say it. I learned only this morning that Edward Ferrars is married. To Lucy Steele.”

Elinor let out a small, strangled cry, and the teacup in her hand fell to the floor with a crash and shattered. Immediately she turned to the corner to reach for the dustpan and broom and began to sweep up the mess.

“You…you’re certain?” Mrs Holland inquired, breaking the stunned silence that had suddenly descended on the kitchen. “There’s – there’s no mistake?”

“I regret to say there isn’t. I heard the news directly from Harriet’s housekeeper, and she’s certainly in a position to know.”

Marianne glanced at Elinor, wordlessly sweeping up the broken china with a blank expression, and her heart went out to her sister. “When?” she asked as she turned back to Lady Violet. “When did this happen?”

“They were married at Christ Church in Carywick only yesterday afternoon; and,” Lady Violet added, “they departed for their honeymoon in the Maldives this morning. The housekeeper said that Lucy sends you all her best regards.”

“How kind,” Mrs Holland murmured. “How very kind indeed.”

“Cow,” Marianne said succinctly.

“Elinor,” Lady Violet said, her face troubled as she turned to the girl, “I’m so sorry to bring you such unwelcome and no doubt upsetting news. Are you all right? You’ve not said a single word.”

“There’s nothing to say, is there?” She emptied the dustpan into the trash and set it back in the corner with the broom with deliberate motions. Her smile was forced. “Thank you for telling us. I’m happy for Edward. Very…happy, indeed.” But her eyes betrayed her as they welled with tears, and she let out a small, involuntary sound that might have been a sob.

Marianne half stood. “Elinor…”

She looked at them all blindly and turned away. In the doorway she paused.

“Don’t wait dinner for me, please. I’m not hungry. It was very nice to see you again, Lady Violet.”

Then, her social duty done, she fled.

***

The minute Elinor left, a flurry of exclamations and questions and expressions of disbelief filled the kitchen as Marianne and her mother reacted to Lady Violet’s news.

“Edward Ferrars,
married
?” Mrs Holland fretted, and wrapped her hands around her tea mug as if seeking solace from its warmth. “I can’t believe it. I’d barely got used to the news of his secret engagement to that Steele girl. And now…this!”

“I wonder why the wedding went forward so quickly?” Lady Violet wondered. She drew in a deep breath. “Do you think perhaps Miss Steele is in the family way –?”

“Edward would never allow that to happen,” Marianne said, her words leaving no doubt in the matter. “He doesn’t love Lucy, not really. He’s far too dutiful and conscious of his behavior to ever –” she stopped. “I mean, he’s not prone to – to random acts of…affection. He keeps his feelings to himself.” She sighed. “Just like Elinor.”

“Your sister’s a perfectly affectionate young woman,” Lady Violet reproved her. “But she’s ruled by her head, not her heart.”

“And I’m ruled by my heart and not my head?” Marianne retorted. “Is that what you mean, Lady V?”

The older woman lifted her shoulder. “I’m sorry to say it, Marianne, but…yes. Even you must admit that your behaviour with Kit Willoughby left a lot to be desired. One should never bare one’s soul so freely or so publicly, particularly where a man is concerned.”

Marianne fought down the urge to fling back a scathing reply. “You’re right,” she said evenly. “My behaviour with Willoughby was reckless, and stupid. I admit it. But it hardly matters now; he’s married someone else, and so has Edward. So I hope,” she added as she stood up with two pink spots of anger on her cheeks, “that my sister and I can move on with our lives.” She glanced pointedly at Lady Violet. “And we’d both find it a lot easier to do that if everyone stopped throwing our past mistakes in our faces.”

“Marianne,” her mother cried as her daughter stalked out of the room. “Apologise to Lady Violet at once.”

But her only answer was the resounding slam of Marianne’s bedroom door.

***

Marianne returned to work at the clinic on Monday, and the remainder of the week flew by in a blur of appointments and forms, answering phone calls, and mopping up dog wee.

“In other words,” she told Matthew on Friday as they shared a mid-afternoon coffee in the kitchenette, “everything’s back to normal.”

“Good.” His eyes met hers and he glanced over his shoulder to make sure they were alone. He lowered his voice as concern darkened his eyes. “Are you sure you’re all right?”