Edward Ferrars arrived at Delaford this afternoon. He will be staying with me often over the next few months so that he can oversee work on the parsonage.
‘Have you and Elinor set a date for your wedding yet?’ I asked.
‘Not yet. We want to wait until I have been ordained, by which time work on the parsonage should be complete. With luck we will be married by Michaelmas. I was wondering, Brandon, if you would stand up with me? I had always thought I would ask my brother, but as things now stand between us, I cannot bring myself to ask him. He rejoiced in my downfall, and he is not a man I wish to have at my wedding.’
‘I would be honoured,’ I said.
Thursday 8 June
The house is almost ready for my other visitors. Mrs Trent has worked wonders. Rugs have been beaten, curtains washed, mirrors polished and furniture dusted, so that everything shines in a way it has not shone since my mother was alive. The garden, too, has had some much-needed attention, with grass cropped, trees pruned and flowers trimmed.
The recent fine weather has resulted in a profusion of blooms, and everywhere there is scent and colour.
I have sent out invitations to a ball, and I am looking forward to seeing Marianne’s reaction to my home.
Friday 9 June
I went out riding with Ferrars this morning, knowing the Dashwoods would not be arriving until this afternoon or even this evening, but after a cold collation I could not bring myself to leave the house. Ferrars went down to the parsonage to oversee the workmen, and I remained behind to attend to my accounts.
At last their carriage arrived. I heard the wheels crunching on the gravel and the horses’ hoofs, and I ran to the door, then slowed my pace as I went outside.
The carriage rolled to a halt, and I saw Marianne’s face at the window, looking out on to what I hoped would one day be her home. Her face was alight with pleasure, and I knew she approved of the drive, the grove and the edifice. I only hoped she would be as well pleased with the inside.
I opened the door and the coachman let down the step, then I handed Mrs Dashwood and her daughters out. I escorted the ladies inside, where they looked about them with interest.
‘You have a very fine property here, Colonel,’ said Mrs Dashwood. ‘The hall has noble proportions. The staircase reminds me of Norland. Does it not remind you of Norland, Marianne?’
‘Perhaps, but it is not as big. It is lighter, however; the staircase at Norland was always rather dark.’
‘And gloomy,’ said Margaret. ‘I didn’t like the picture of Great-great-grandfather Charles.’
‘Margaret!’
‘Well, I didn’t,’ said Margaret. ‘He always looked very fierce.’
We went into the drawing room and I saw its beauty anew, with the windows cut down to the floor, revealing the gardens and parkland beyond. I saw Marianne’s eyes linger on the fire-place, an ornate piece of marble which I have always admired, and then rove over the console tables, with their vases of fresh flowers, and the damasked sofas, newly covered, and the Aubusson rugs.
‘It is a beautiful room,’ said Marianne. ‘Elegant and refined. ’
‘Yes, indeed,’ said Elinor.
‘But more than that, it has heart,’ said Marianne.
Tea was brought in, and afterwards we walked down to the parsonage, where Elinor and Edward had an affectionate meeting.
The ladies were delighted with the parsonage.
‘It is far bigger than I imagined,’ said Elinor, ‘and the prospect is pleasing.’
‘More than pleasing, it is quite beautiful,’ said Marianne, going over to the window. ‘Look, you can see right down the valley. With the river winding its way through it, it is a lovely sight. It will be equally beautiful in winter, I believe.’
‘It will need new curtains and so forth,’ I said to Elinor, ‘but I am sure you will enjoy choosing them.’
‘Yes, indeed. I think green for the parlour, with gold curtains. Mama, what do you think?’
‘I think that would look very well,’ said Mrs Dashwood. ‘A plain wallpaper or a stripe?’
‘A stripe, I think.’
‘And perhaps I can beg the portrait of Great-great-grandfather Charles to hang in Margaret’s room,’ Elinor teased her.
‘Will we be staying with you?’ asked Margaret eagerly.
‘Often, I hope, when the work is complete.’
‘And until then, you are welcome to stay with me,’ I said. ‘Perhaps you would like to see some more of the estate?’
‘Oh, yes,’ said Margaret. ‘Can we see the mulberry tree?’
‘Of course, if you want to,’ I said, mystified.
‘Mrs Jennings has told me all about it. She said that she and Charlotte stuffed themselves when they came here!’
We all laughed, and I remembered Charlotte and her mother, eating the fruit fresh from the tree, with the juices running down their chins.
‘I am afraid you will not be able to do the same. They will not be ripe until the autumn,’ I told her.
‘We will just have to come back again, then, will we not, Mama?’ she asked her mother. She turned to her sister. ‘Elinor, you must invite us in October. Mrs Jennings says the Delaford mulberries are the best she has ever tasted.’
‘And what else did she tell you?’ I asked Margaret, as we set off towards the walled garden.
‘She told me about the dovecots and the stewponds and the canal. Can we see the canal?’
‘We will go and see it once we have seen the mulberry tree.’
‘And the other fruit trees, too?’
‘Margaret! The Colonel will think you are nothing but a walking stomach!’
‘Well, and perhaps I am. Mrs Jennings says she likes to see a girl with a hearty appetite.’
We came to the door into the walled garden. Once inside, it was hot, for we were sheltered from the breeze. There was the gentle buzzing of bees, and the scent of lavender, and the flutter of colour as butterflies flew from one plant to another, their iridescent wings gleaming in the sunlight.
‘Apple trees,’ said Margaret, ‘and pear trees, and — oh, look, Mama, there is the mulberry tree!’ She ran over to it and examined the fruit. ‘You will have a good crop,’ she said to me. ‘I will have to tell Mrs Jennings.’
‘You must help me to plan the parsonage garden,’ said Elinor to her sister.
Marianne went over to the sundial in the middle of the garden and ran her finger tips over the brass gnomon, letting them run over its filigree before falling to the dial, and tracing the shadow.
‘Five o’clock,’ she said. ‘Is it accurate?’ she asked me.
I took out my watch.
‘Five past five,’ I said.
‘Then it is very near.’
She walked round the garden, taking everything in, as Margaret continued to extol the virtues of apples, pears and plums, and Elinor and Edward talked about their plans for their own garden, whilst Mrs Dashwood sat on a seat in the shade.
We decided, as we left the garden, that we would not venture further, for Mrs Dashwood was tired from the journey.
‘You are here for a month,’ I said. ‘There is plenty of time to explore the estate.’
We returned to the house. I changed quickly and then waited in the drawing room for the ladies.
Marianne entered the room in a white muslin gown whose simplicity showed off her beauty. She wore long white gloves and a simple string of pearls at her neck, and I imagined her portrait hanging in the hall.
‘You are smiling again,’ she said to me teasingly.
‘I have plenty to smile about,’ I returned.
I gave her my arm, and we went into dinner.
Afterwards Marianne played for us, and this time it was no melancholy air but a lively sonata, full of energy and spirit.