Chapter 44

CHAPTER 44

DELAFORD

B y the day following her husband's return from abroad, Marianne had visibly begun to regain her strength. Although it had weakened her, the illness had not continued long enough to prolong her recovery, and now that her husband was beside her, and she was assured of his abiding affections, her strength and happiness seemed to recover in tandem each hour. Marianne still had her youth and natural strength, and by the Colonel's constant attentions, affections and presence, her recovery proceeded so smoothly as to enable her to remove by noon that day, to the parlour. She had conditioned only for a view of the garden that when Margaret's carriage drew up, expected that afternoon, she would have first view of it.

The unfortunate tale regarding her husband's fears for Delaford and the subsequent unveiling of the truth regarding Edouard Brandon had been related to her first thing that morning by the Colonel himself, and Marianne, despite an initial shock, was now relieved of the final vestiges of the anxiety which had plagued her since her visit to town. To know that Delaford had been under dire threat had moved her terribly, and for a time she had been shaken. But now that her dear Brandon was home, beside her, and all was well, and the children around her, nothing could dampen her increasing health and happiness.

She had even been more affectionate than ever with young William who had been eager to see his ‘aunt' Marianne. He had restrained his boisterous playfulness for a few moments and been very sweet in his embracing her and kissing her and declaring that ‘because she couldn't go outside from being so ill he would be so good as to draw her a picture of himself and Teddy riding, ‘cos they had been at their lessons ever so much and could now trot their ponies very fine indeed.'

Settled on the sofa, she had the delight of being surrounded by the children, and, after playing with baby Philip for a few minutes was now wishing very much to hold baby Robert on her lap until Bessie came to put him down for his nap. While the little ones amused themselves around her with puzzles and toys, she and her sister smiled down at the new addition to the Parsonage as the infant nuzzled his fist sleepily. ‘He is a divine creature, Elinor! Look at his little blue eyes! So much like Edward's! I wonder—I hope very much—that he does not grow up too much like his namesake!'

Elinor laughed. ‘Edward at first declined the name on account of his not liking to bestow the burden of the name upon his child, but I managed to persuade him. Family is as important to Edward as it is to us, and who knows, maybe in time Robert may learn to be less?—'

‘Pompous?' inserted Marianne in amusement. ‘Conceited?'

Elinor, withholding a smile, ‘I was going to say less disagreeable, in general. But, I perceive you are not going to take back your remark, judging from that smile on your face!'

‘Dearest Elinor,' cried Marianne, still in some amusement at the differences between her sister and herself, ‘you are always so much more charitable than I could ever be! You are so determined to be charitable towards everybody, even those who have harmed you, that you manage to find good where I can find none! I suppose that if asked, you would never say a word against Mrs Lucy Ferrars, either! You certainly seem content to name your child after your rival's husband, while they are responsible for the loss of his estate. But that is what makes you more superior to me in character by far!'

‘You forget, Marianne dearest,' remarked Elinor dryly, ‘that it was Robert Ferrars who freed Edward from his unhappy circumstance and enabled him to marry me after all, and so I consider that I at least, have much to thank him for.'

‘You are right, Elinor—still, can anything be more vexing—more hurtful even yet—to dear Edward, than to see his younger brother in possession of an estate which might have been his own? He does not deserve the compliment of having his nephew named after him—but it speaks very well of your generous nature, Elinor, and Edwards also.'

Elinor, complacent in motherhood, and happy in love, left the conversation at that, quietly rejoicing that her sister was now in spirits enough to converse with animation, and contradict with passion!

When the children had been led away by their nurse, and baby Robbie had gone to Bessie to be taken home and put to bed in his crib, Marianne turned to her sister, her eyes, so recently shadowed and haunted, bright again.

‘Oh Elinor, I am so happy, and I never thought I would be happy again!'

Elinor smiled. ‘Then you must never doubt the Colonel's love for you again, Marianne, for even Mama and I did not doubt it—but I hope that he will never again be obliged to defend Delaford from long lost claimants!'

‘It is still something difficult to believe, Elinor, but although we almost lost Delaford, I know that I could have endured anything, even living in reduced circumstances, so long as dear Brandon and the children were beside me. I have learned more than ever, that nothing but my dearest friends and family have any real merit with me. Family is more enduring than passing wealth. We live well here, but the idea of losing Delaford has not made me as apprehensive as a permanent rift with my husband—this terrible time without him, thinking myself without his affections, has made me more determined to ensure we spend more time together as a family—the dear children must know how important family is, over anything else!'

Elinor squeezed her hand. ‘Edward and I must do the same,' she replied, ruefully. ‘I admit, I had looked forward to the rise in our incomes in the next few years, from the interest on the money we would have made on the investment—but you are right, nothing matters except that we are all together, and we will learn to shift along with what we have. I am content, Marianne, for my treasures are my husband and my children, and my dear sisters!'

Just as she was speaking, Edward looked in the door, a little bashful. ‘May I join you, or is this a private interview?'

Marianne laughed, and Elinor rose to accommodate her husband on the sofa. ‘Well timed, dearest, for we were just talking of riches and husbands and children, and the merits of one over the other!'

‘Ah,' replied Edward, sitting with a smile, ‘I am sure riches have won over husbands, for I am a worthless chap, not worth the salt on my meat, I am sure!'

Elinor laughed at her husband's tease, but Marianne was not so light-hearted. ‘I shall never again be discontented over a lack of wealth since I have spent the last three months without dear Brandon!' she said warmly. ‘I would have given all the riches I owned just for the sight of him. So you cannot accuse me, Edward, of valuing wealth as highly as I did once. When one has both, it is easy to be complacent, but when a woman fancies herself alone and unbeloved, she might give all her wealth just to feel her husband's hand in her own!'

‘Well said,' replied Edward with a laugh, ‘you ought to give my sermon this week, Marianne, for you are perhaps better suited to my subject than I—for it is all about the merits of faith and family over fleeting riches! I am not yet composed as to my own fortunes. You and I, my dear,' Edward added, reaching for Elinor's hand, ‘must fortify ourselves very much.'

‘I was so very sorry,' replied Marianne warmly, ‘that you lost your grand fortune, for I suppose that to a clergyman and his wife, with five mouths to feed, seven thousand pounds is a vast deal to lose. But tell me, Edward, did you suspect nothing? Were you truly taken in by this man? Did not Fanny and John qualify him as being a respected friend of theirs?'

Edward sighed. ‘Mr Claymore's company was everything it ought to appear, at any rate, on paper, and in John's recommendation of the man. I had no reason not to trust in John's recommending the venture. But still, a nagging distrust made me nervous, and about two months ago, without wanting to unduly worry Elinor, I decided to investigate a little more. I had my solicitor look again into the gentleman himself. He made some more inquiries, and a week or so later he sent me a newspaper article from three years ago, which gave me new cause for anxiety. The story was that Mr Claymore had been accused of fraud at that time, but had been found not guilty. And yet I could not comfort myself with the idea that he been found not guilty, since there seemed more to the story. This news served to make me ever more anxious about our investment, but I did not want to make Elinor anxious, and so I kept the newspaper article to myself.'

‘You ought to have given it to me sooner,' admonished Elinor, ‘but even so, it would have been too late to withdraw, for very soon after, we received the news that we had lost our money. '

‘And I have no way to prove that Claymore defrauded us or if it was a real disaster and we were just unlucky.'

Marianne had listened intently, her brow a little furrowed. ‘Mr Claymore? I feel that I have heard that name, but I cannot place it. Perhaps Margaret mentioned the name to me when I was in town with her, although I cannot remember the context. Still, it seems strange that I know the name somehow. I hope that Margaret has had nothing to do with this Claymore!'

‘I suppose that even if she did know him, she would have very little to report regarding his business,' reminded Elinor. ‘What could Meg have done, even had she known Mr Claymore? I suppose she must have met him, as he is after all, an acquaintance of John and Fanny's but still, she could not know of the connection! I would not have wished her to know, because it may have led to some awkwardness on her behalf, had she been obliged to be in company with him.'

‘You are right, of course,' replied Edward. ‘Well, there is nothing to be done now, and we must make the best of it. Even if we suspected Claymore of fraud, how could it be proven?'

Now the servant came to bring them all tea, and with the tea came Mrs Dashwood who had been supervising little Robert's care up at the Parsonage. ‘Dear little soul! He is such an angel, Elinor!' she said, coming into the room and seating herself on the sofa as close to Marianne as she could be. ‘He looks just like Edward!'

‘Yes, he does, it is true.' Marianne laughed. ‘He will make a grand little playmate for Philip when he is old enough! There is only a few months' difference between them—I am sure they will have to form a pact together against their older sisters and cousins!'

‘And the Colonel—when does he plan to go to Combe?' asked Edward quietly.

‘Tomorrow morning—as soon as it is light. '

‘I am very glad of it,' said Edward, ‘it is the right thing to do—for them both.'

‘Yes,' replied Marianne, ‘for family is the treasure we can never afford to do without. One day I shall tell William that he is as welcome at Delaford as if he was Brandon's own grandson—but he must know his father, it is only right.'

Edward was eager. ‘You are to be commended, Marianne, for above anyone it is you who have suffered most having the boy here. But, if you will permit me to mention it, your sentiment, being so noble, and so Christian, cannot be limited simply to small boys. I have been thinking, and I hope that you will not find me impertinent, given that you nearly lost Delaford, that there is one more family member who has no one in the world but yourselves, and a mother left alone in a distant land.'

Marianne's eyes were very bright, and Elinor pressed her sister's hand feelingly.

‘Yes, Edward, I understand perfectly of whom you speak, and I agree. If dear Brandon's nephew has truly repented his actions, he must be welcomed, too, at Delaford, to know us and to feel that he has family. No one need know of his origins, unless he wishes it known, but surely he may call here as Brandon's nephew, and be welcomed, and loved, as if he were our own? If my husband can forgive him, we can also.'

Edward's countenance spoke his approval at her generous words, and Mrs Dashwood could not but exclaim, ‘That is an excellent example of your true kindness and generosity, Marianne—you are to be commended for your sentiments! The Colonel, I think, will be in agreement, since his own generosity is as active and noble as your own! If I am to see a nephew of the dear Colonel's here, I shall indeed be very happy to meet him!'

‘So much has changed,' observed Elinor, ‘in such a short time—I think when Meg comes home to find two new members of the family—little Robbie, and a second "Edward" added to the family, that she will hardly know us! '

‘Yes,' replied her sister warmly. ‘All we need now is for Meg to be here with us all, and if we can console her, and make her as happy as she can be, after her disappointment, then we shall all be content!'

‘Then, forgive my interruption Marianne,' interjected Edward, turning to the long window facing the garden, ‘but is that not a carriage coming down the driveway now? Since we expect no one but Margaret, your wish, I think is about to be granted!'