‘As it was out of your power to assist your sisters,’ I remarked, but he did not understand my sarcasm.
‘Quite. I knew you would understand. The price of everything these days — ’ he said, shaking his head. ‘And there is one thing more preparing against him, which must be worse than all — his mother has determined, with a very natural kind of spirit, to settle that estate upon Robert immediately, which might have been Edward’s. I left her this morning with her lawyer, talking over the business. Can anything be more galling to the spirit of a man than to see his younger brother in possession of an estate which might have been his own? Poor Edward! I feel for him sincerely.’
‘But not sincerely enough to help him,’ I remarked as we arrived at the stables.
He did not understand me, and when he opened his mouth to continue, I said that I was leaving for the country shortly and that I would bid him good day.
‘Oh, yes, you must be going to visit your estate, a fine estate, by all accounts. My sister, Miss Dashwood — ’
‘Good day, Mr Dashwood,’ I said firmly and went inside.
The carriage was soon ready, and with Cinnamon tethered to the back of it, I set out for Delaford.
Saturday 11 March
Cinnamon is now in the Delaford stables, and I am looking forward to seeing Marianne ride her.
Eliza and the baby are thriving. I think Willoughby’s recent behaviour has done Eliza good, for she has ceased to speak of him in affectionate terms, and she has begun to see him differently.
She would not think badly of him when he hurt her because her own feelings were too closely involved. But when he deserted Marianne, she felt compassion for her fellow sufferer, and when he then went on to marry Miss Grey, for the sake of her fortune, she could begin to see him in his true colours, as a mercenary, shallow man, who thought of no one’s feelings but his own.
I left her playing with the baby and returned to the house.
There was a messenger there, waiting for me, and on asking him his business, I discovered that Dewson, the rector, was dead; a sad blow, for I had always held him in affection, but at almost ninety years of age he had had a good life and I gave thanks for it.
Sunday 12 March
Today’s service was taken by Mr Walker, the curate, and I found myself wondering whether I should offer him the living, but then I remembered that Edward Ferrars said he was intending to go into the church, and I thought, Here is a way for me to help him.
I am only sorry that the living is so poor and that the parsonage so small, but both are capable of improvement, and it will at least give him an income and somewhere to live.
Tuesday 14 March
I was hoping to offer Ferrars the living this morning, but on reaching town I realized that I did not know where he lived. I made enquiries but I could not discover Ferrars’s address, for his sister went into hysterics when I called on her and I did not know where else to apply. And then I remembered that Mrs Dashwood had spoken of inviting him to Barton Cottage, and I thought that the Misses Dashwood might be able to help me.
I went, therefore, to Mrs Jennings’s house, where I found Marianne playing the piano. I did not like to disturb her, for although the air was a sad one, it seemed to be giving some relief to her feelings.
Instead, I spoke to Mrs Jennings, who welcomed me with. ‘Ah! Colonel, I do not know what you and I shall do without the Misses Dashwood, for they are to go to Cleveland with the Palmers for Easter. They will not come back to me afterwards, for they are quite resolved upon going home from there. How forlorn we shall be when I come back! Lord! we shall sit and gape at one another as dull as two cats.’
I was pleased rather than otherwise, for I felt that London had done all it could for Marianne, and that it must now be up to her home and her mother to complete her cure; after which I hoped that she and her family would accept an invitation to stay with me at Delaford.
Mrs Jennings turned her attention to some matters of her own, and I was free to speak to Miss Dashwood. I followed her over to the window, where she had gone in order to see the print she was making more clearly.
‘I have heard of the injustice your friend Mr Ferrars has suffered from his family,’ I said. ‘Will you be so good as to tell him that the living of Delaford is his if he think it worth his acceptance, for unfortunately it is a poor one.’
She was astonished, and seemed at first stunned, but she soon recovered and thanked me warmly, saying that she was sure he would be grateful for it, and saying also that she was sure I would be pleased with him, for he was a man of great worth, with good principles and disposition.
‘I wonder, would you tell him about it? I know him so little I would not know how to speak to him. I would not wish him to feel under any obligation to me,’ I said.
‘I will undertake it with pleasure, if you are sure it is really your wish to give such an agreeable commission to another,’ she said.
‘It is. Perhaps you know where he is to be found?’
‘I believe he is still in town; fortunately I heard his address from Miss Steele.’
‘I only wish the living was better and the parsonage was larger,’ I said.
‘The smallness of the house, I cannot imagine any inconvenience to them, for it will be in proportion to their family and income.’
I was surprised to hear her speak of a family.
‘I fear I have given you an exaggerated idea of the worth of the living,’ I said. ‘This little rectory can do no more than make Mr Ferrars comfortable as a bachelor; it cannot enable him to marry.’
‘That will be for him to decide,’ she said.
‘Of course,’ I replied, though I still thought, privately, that it would be impossible.
I took my leave soon afterwards and returned to my lodgings in St James’s Street. I had not been there for very long when Ferrars was announced.
‘Brandon,’ he said, on entering the room, ‘I have just come from Miss Dashwood, and I must give you my thanks, my sincere thanks, for thinking of me and standing my friend.’
He did not seem particularly pleased, despite his words, and I wondered if it was because the living was such a poor one, but then his manner was explained when he said that he would not be able to take it up at once as it would be several months before he could be ordained.
‘As to that, there is no hurry. I will make arrangements to cover the period in between, and I hope to see you at Delaford Parsonage by Michaelmas.’
He thanked me again, and I said, ‘I hope you and Miss Lucy will be very happy.’
His manner was diffident, but he thanked me for my good wishes, and then went on his way.
Friday 17 March
‘So, Brandon, you have given Ferrars the living of Delaford, eh?’ said Sir John, when I called in on the Palmers this morning. ‘Capital, capital! He seems like a fine fellow. Audacious, too! Marrying Miss Lucy! Ay, she’s a sly puss! Never said a word about it, not though she stayed with us for months. Can’t say I wonder at it. Afraid of his mother, and right to be afraid, too. Cast him off without a penny! Can’t think why. Nothing wrong with Miss Lucy. No fortune, of course, but Ferrars had enough for two. Ah, well! It’s worked out well for us. Now we get to see both of you when we come to Delaford.’