Saturday 10 June
I gave a small dinner party for some of my neighbours this evening, ostensibly to introduce Edward to some of his future parishioners but also to introduce Marianne to intelligent people who would stimulate her and provide her with the sort of company she needs. After a winter spent with Mrs Jennings, I delighted in seeing Marianne discover the joys of talking to people who could arouse her interest in the world and enlarge her mind.
Her ideas were questioned and she defended them well, or thought about them and adapted them in the light of new information.
I saw her take a step into a larger world, one not bounded by the garden of Barton Cottage, or the downs beyond, or the drawing rooms of London, but one that opened up new vistas of exploration for her to enjoy.
Afterwards we got up a dance, and Marianne danced with me twice, a fact which delighted me as she favoured the other gentlemen with no more than one dance apiece.
Friday 16 June
Elinor and Edward went down to the parsonage this morning, and we went with them, taking a detour to see the canal. Then Marianne, Margaret, Mrs Dashwood and I returned to the house by way of the stables.
‘There is something I want to show you,’ I said to Marianne, as we outstripped the others. I took her into the stable yard and we stopped by Cinnamon’s stall. The mare nuzzled Marianne, who stripped off her glove and put out a hand to stroke her nose. At the same time I, too, put out my hand to stroke her and our fingers touched. I withdrew my hand at once, and she blushed and took refuge in stroking the mare and fussing over her, but I thought, We will be married soon, and we will be very happy.
‘She is for you to ride whilst you are here,’ I said.
‘For me? Oh, thank you,’ she said, abandoning restraint and putting her arms round Cinnamon’s neck, telling her how beautiful she was and breathing in deeply to catch her smell.
‘How I have missed the stables at Norland,’ she said. ‘Do you have anything I can give her?’
One of the grooms stepped forward with a carrot, and Marianne fed it to the mare whilst the two of them became acquainted.
‘Mama! Mama!’ she said, as soon as Mrs Dashwood and Margaret caught up with us. ‘Look! The Colonel says I may ride her whilst I am here.’
‘Can I go with you?’ asked Margaret.
‘Of course,’ I told her. ‘I have a horse that would suit you, too.’
‘I need you this morning, Margaret,’ said her mother. ‘But that must not stop you,’ she said to Marianne and myself. ‘It is a fine morning for a ride.’
‘I am not dressed for it,’ said Marianne, looking reluctantly at her gown.
‘I am sure the Colonel will not insist on your wearing a habit today,’ said Mrs Dashwood.
Marianne turned to me, and for answer I instructed the grooms to saddle the horses. I helped Marianne to mount, and Mrs Dashwood and Margaret waved us out of the stable yard.
Marianne had a graceful seat and rode well, and soon we were cantering across the fields, sharing the exhilaration of the early summer morning, with its smell of wild flowers and its cooling breeze.
‘I had forgotten how much I loved riding,’ she said, as we came to the road and slowed to a walk. ‘We must do it every day.’
‘I can think of nothing I would like better,’ I told her.
She began to look around her.
‘Is this a turnpike road?’ she asked me.
‘Yes.’
‘And it is very near the house.’
‘About a quarter of a mile, yes.’
‘Then you must always have something to look at. I like seeing the bustle and the activity,’ she said. ‘It is very quiet at Barton, but here there must be carriages passing all the time, and it will be very convenient for travelling.’
‘It is.’
‘Have you ever been to the Lake District?’ she asked me. ‘It is supposed to be very beautiful.’
‘No, I have never been, but I hope to go there one day soon.’
‘So do I. I have seen so little of the world; indeed, I have seen little of my own country. You, on the other hand, have travelled a great deal,’ she said, then she gave a grimace and I looked at her enquiringly.
‘I used to laugh at your experiences,’ she said apologetically. ‘I thought myself so superior, mocking you for your talk of the heat and the mosquitoes, but in fact it was my own experiences that were paltry, and not yours. I had not even been to London at the time! I knew nothing of the world beyond Norland and Barton, and yet I thought I knew so much. But now I want to know more. I want to go to Scotland, and if peace is declared, I want to travel to the Continent. And I think I would like to see India, too. What was it like?’
I told her of the burning heat and the vivid colours; the shimmer of the air in the morning; the pungent spices, and the exotic scents of jasmine and musk.
She listened intently and said, ‘There is so much of life I have yet to see. I am humbled to think of it. If I had succumbed to melancholy, I would have missed the chance to see all the wonders that life has to offer, but now I hope that one day I may have a chance to experience them all.’
So engrossed were we in our conversation that it was not until I heard the church clock striking that I realized we needed to turn for home.
We followed Mrs Dashwood and Margaret into the house. Hearing our footsteps, Margaret turned round and said, ‘Oh, here is Marianne with her beau.’
‘Hush! Margaret,’ said Marianne blushing.
But she was smiling as she said it.
Friday 11 August
We had a celebratory dinner this evening, for Edward has been ordained.
‘It won’t be long before you move into the parsonage, eh?’ said Sir John, who arrived to stay with us yesterday.
‘We hope to wait until the work is finished before we marry,’ said Elinor.
‘Lord! If you wait for the workmen to finish you will be waiting for ever,’ said Mrs Jennings. ‘There is always some delay. You had better marry at once and have done with it.’
Elinor and Edward exchanged glances, and it was clear to all of us that the same thought had been in both their minds. Before the evening was over, they had decided to marry anyway, saying, ‘I am sure we can tolerate the inconvenience.’
‘You must get married from Barton,’ said Sir John.
‘Ay, Sir John, the very thing. We’ll hold the wedding breakfast at the great house,’ said Mrs Jennings.
‘We could not possibly impose on you ...’ began Mrs Dashwood, but she was talked down, and I believe she was happy for Sir John and Mrs Jennings to have their own way.
‘Three weeks for the banns to be read,’ said Sir John musingly. ‘Then you’ll be marrying in September.’
‘And I’ll be visiting you in the parsonage by Michaelmas, just like I said,’ remarked Mrs Jennings.
She was so pleased about it that no one reminded her she had been intending to visit Edward and Lucy, instead of Edward and Elinor!
Monday 11 September
Elinor and Edward were married this morning.
As they set out on their wedding tour, Marianne said, ‘You are a good friend to all my family, Colonel. Without you, Elinor’s marriage could not have gone ahead, for she and Edward would have had nowhere to live.’
‘I hope that, one day, you will see me as something more than a friend,’ I said to her.
‘A second attachment for both of us,’ she said. ‘I do not know exactly what happened in your past, only that you had an unhappy love affair ... do not speak of it if you do not wish ...’
But I found myself telling her about it, ending with Eliza’s death.
‘She died in your arms,’ said Marianne. ‘To think, I judged Willoughby on his handsome face and engaging manners, believing him to be a romantic hero because he carried me home when I sprained my ankle. But beneath his smiles and teasing, he was a wastrel. And yet I dismissed you entirely, though you were ready to elope with your love when your father forced her into a hateful marriage, and you sought her out and protected her when she needed you most, caring nothing for the fact that she had fallen into disgrace. You looked after her daughter, fighting a duel in order to protect her honour, and then brought her here, where she could be happy. You have loved and suffered, and yet it has not made you bitter, for you have the courage to love again. It is you who are the figure out of romance.’