Tuesday 6 September
‘I think I will just go down to the cottage and see if the Dashwoods have arrived,’ said Sir John as he pushed his chair back from the breakfast table this morning.
‘You will do no such thing,’ said Mary. ‘It is far too early for them to have arrived, and even if they have, the last thing Mrs Dashwood will want is a visitor. She will have enough to do without a stranger to take care of.’
‘A stranger?’ he asked, astonished.
‘A stranger, for that is what you must be to begin with. She will want to set her house in order before she receives guests.’
Sir John hummed and hawed but at last he gave way and said that he supposed he could wait until tomorrow to see them, but that Mary must take the blame if they felt themselves slighted.
I suggested we go for a ride, and he was happy to fall in with the suggestion, for he likes to be doing something.
‘What do you make of John Dashwood?’ he asked me, as we rode out to the hills. ‘Mrs Dashwood’s stepson, you know, and half brother to the girls. Inherited the family home when his father died but made no provision for his father’s second wife and left her to the mercy of a distant relative. Seems bad to me.’
It seemed bad to me, too, but I said only, ‘We know nothing of the circumstances.’
‘Ay, you are right, though what could prevent a son doing right by his father’s wife I do not know. Family is family, and a man should take care of his own. Though lucky for me he did not, eh, Brandon? It will do us good to have some new faces to look at.’
Wednesday 7 September
Sir John lost no time in looking at his new faces. As soon as he had finished breakfast, he said, ‘No one can object to my calling on my cousins this morning, I am sure. I am determined to walk down to the cottage and greet them. The girls will not remember me, for they were very small when last I visited them, but Mrs Dashwood will know me. I am looking forward to seeing them all again. Will you come with me, Mary?’
‘Certainly not. I do not believe Mrs Dashwood will be ready for such a call. But pray tell her I will call on her as soon as it is convenient for her to receive me,’ said Mary.
He left, intent on making the new arrivals welcome, and I went out with the dogs, returning to find that Sir John was in the drawing room, regaling Mary with an account of his visit.
‘Charming people,’ he said, ‘and what handsome girls! The youngest is only thirteen, but the other two are older and are both out. What manners! And what pretty faces! Oh, it will do us good to have them about the place. We will find them husbands, eh, Mary? And then we will have a wedding or two to look forward to. I have promised to send them my newspaper every day, and to convey their letters to the post for them.’
‘Did Mrs Dashwood say when she would be receiving?’ asked Mary, ignoring most of his speech.
‘She was touched by your message, my love, and said she would be happy to welcome you at any time.’
‘Then I will go tomorrow,’ said Mary. ‘I do not wish to be backward in showing them any courtesy, for they have suffered a grievous loss. I wish to make them welcome here. I think I might take the children with me. They cannot help but be cheered by the sight of my two splendid boys and my beautiful little girl.’
Thursday 8 September
Sir John and Mary visited the cottage today. In the end they took little John with them and left the two younger children behind. The visit went well, and they have invited the Dashwoods to dine with us tomorrow.
Friday 9 September
Sir John spent the morning visiting the neighbouring families in the hope of procuring some addition to our society this evening, but it was a moonlit night and everyone was already engaged.
‘I never thought I would consider it unlucky to be giving a dinner on a moonlit night, but so it is, for if it were dark, then there would be plenty of families sitting at home.’
‘And therefore not willing to visit us,’ said Mary.
‘What? Not willing to come such a short step, and with the offer of a carriage being sent for them if necessary? But at least your mother is coming,’ he said. ‘She will be here before the Dashwoods arrive — ’
‘As long as she has a tolerable journey,’ Mary put in.
‘And will cheer the young ladies. She will be able to tease them about their beaux!’ he said with a laugh. ‘Young ladies always like to be teased about their beaux.’
I thought of Mrs Jennings, with her jokes and laughter and vulgar humour, and I wondered what the Dashwoods would make of her.
The post arriving at that moment, I saw that I had a letter from Sanders. I excused myself and retired to my room where I opened it eagerly, but Sanders had no news. I put my disappointment aside as best I could, but I was in no mood for company, and when the Dashwoods arrived, I was silent and grave.
My silence was not noticed, however, for Sir John and Mrs Jennings were boisterous enough, with Sir John asking his cousins how they liked the cottage and Mrs Jennings teasing the Misses Dashwood about the beaux they had left behind.
Miss Marianne was asked to sing after dinner, and the music roused me from my melancholy thoughts. I turned to look at her, and as I watched her, I was struck by how difficult the last few months must have been for her. She had lost her father; after which she had had to leave her home, travelling across the country to live in a small cottage, when she was used to a mansion house. She had found herself in a strange place with strange people, far from her friends, far from everything, save her family, that she knew and loved. And I was aware of all this because it was all going into her music. Her feelings of loss and heartbreak were pouring out of her through her voice and her fingers.
I could not take my eyes away from her. The emotion on her face was now light and now shade, now sadness and now regret; and the room faded and I saw nothing but Marianne until the song had finished.
I came to myself, to find that the others were chattering, and I thought, How can they chatter when such music is being played?
I walked over to the piano, and as Miss Marianne was about to leave the piano stool, I said, ‘Will you play this?’
‘Gladly,’ she said.
I opened the music and she settled herself again, resting her hands over the keys, and then began to play. I stood by the piano, the better to listen to her, and I turned her music for her when she needed it.
There was a pause when the song finished, and I was ashamed to find that there was no applause, for the song had certainly deserved it. Then Mary, remembering her duties as hostess, said how delightful it had been and asked Miss Marianne to play ‘The Willow.’ Miss Marianne and I exchanged surprised glances, for she had just played that very song.
I pulled another piece of music forward and asked her if she would not sing that one instead.
When she had finished, the others did not even look up from their conversations, and I said, ‘A very pretty song.’
‘Pretty?’ she asked me, turning towards me and arching her eyebrows.
‘You do not find it so?’ I asked her.
‘No, I do not,’ she said, and as she continued her voice became passionate: ‘Haunting, yes; lyrical and wistful; but pretty, no.’
I was surprised, for she was very forthright for someone so young, and my eyes followed her as she returned to sit beside her sister.
‘Well, Colonel, and what do you think of Miss Marianne? ’ asked Mrs Jennings when the Dashwoods had gone. ‘You seemed mightily taken with her.’
‘She is charming,’ I said.
‘Charming? Ay, that she is, and pretty, too. Just the match for a man such as yourself, a fine bachelor with a good bit of property.’