Chapter 47

CHAPTER 47

‘ M eg dear, Marianne sends for you from up at the house—there is someone to see you,' Elinor called upwards into the stairwell.

Seconds later, Margaret's head popped out of the nursery door at the top of the steps. ‘Who is here to see me?' she called down the stairs. ‘I am just doing puzzles with Teddy and Imogen—I shall be down in a moment. Just when Bessie and I had them settled and quiet!' she sighed.

Elinor, laughing, took little Robbie up again to nurse him, and sat down in the wide chair in the drawing room that she preferred.

Soon, Margaret, smoothing wayward strands of dark hair back into her loose bun, descended the staircase, and popped her head into the drawing room. ‘I suppose it is Mrs Elkins. Yesterday she promised me a copy of the Naval Chronicle . How kind of her to bring it to me!'

‘The Naval Chronicle ?' replied Elinor in some astonishment. ‘Whatever for? A list of naval ships I should think would have no interest for anyone except a sailor—unless you are thinking of joining the navy?' added Elinor dryly.

‘Of course not!' denied Margaret self-consciously. ‘I had better not keep her—she has come on purpose to give it to me! Tell Mama I will be back presently to walk to the village with her!'

‘Your apron dearest!' cried Elinor after her. ‘It is dirty!'

Margaret removed her soiled apron with distaste as she left the house, and smoothed her white muslin. It was one of those she had been gifted by John, and she thought, not for the first time, how unfit for country life pretty gowns would be when she returned to Barton. Nothing but dirty aprons there, and no reason to wear any of the pretty silks and muslins that John had bought her. She sighed. It was, she owned, not unpleasant to be the mistress of seven or eight pretty gowns which were not cast-offs of Marianne's!

When she hastily entered the drawing room at Delaford House, expecting Mrs Elkins to be within, her eyes widened. Captain Edwin, who had been seated on the sofa next to Marianne, rose immediately, his hat in his hand, and bowed. ‘Miss Dashwood. How good it is to see you again.'

‘Captain Edwin!'

Blushing, she hoped that neither Marianne and the Colonel, nor Captain Edwin himself, should guess at the state of confusion she was in. But why was he here? Had he guessed her feelings? But he could not have! Had he come to renew his proposals? Her stomach fluttered madly at the thought, and for a moment her heart leapt with joy. But he could not know her own change of heart, he must be here on some other errand, surely! Could she face him, with such feelings as she harboured for him, while having rejected him cruelly? Perhaps he despised her now! '

‘I cannot guess what might have brought you to Delaford, Captain, but I hope it is not bad news. Miss Edwin is well?'

‘She was very well, when I left her,' replied he, with a grave smile, sitting down again.

‘You were passing Delaford then? How kind of you to remember where I lived!' She sat too, and glanced at him, aware of Marianne's eyes on her most curiously. She hoped that she would not give her feelings away any further by silly, girlish blushing. Captain Edwin, in her drawing room! She could hardly countenance it!

He was just as she had left him—his handsome face animated and open, his manner gentlemanly and authoritative, and his blue eyes as dancing and bright as ever. His dress, although well-made and gentlemanlike, told of his time on the road, for the brown coat, the ivory cravat, and white shirt were not entirely devoid of creases. She supposed he must have been on the road for at least three days, and wondered again very much at the reason for his coming.

Her feelings now more composed, and conscious of the eyes of Marianne and the Colonel upon her curiously, she said, ‘I am very happy to see you again, Captain. This, of course, is my sister Marianne and her husband, Colonel Brandon.'

‘I have just had the pleasure of making their acquaintance. Miss Dashwood, Colonel and Mrs Brandon—you must wonder very much at my coming,' he continued somewhat hesitantly. ‘I hope you will not think me impertinent, but in truth, there is a matter of some delicacy, concerning recent events which concerned Miss Dashwood, which I think I ought—that is, I feel it incumbent upon me to relate some facts to you, in the hopes that they may bring some comfort to you, Miss Dashwood, in light of the excessively cruel treatment you have endured at the hand of my cousin, Mr Ambrose.'

If his words spoke aloud his concern for her wellbeing, and his assumption that she had been injured by the action of Mr Ambrose, his most speaking look told her of his great anxiety for her comfort, and all at once she was in a confusion of sensations again, some delightful and some most distressing! Did his concern for her mean that he had forgiven her for her rejection of his offer or was it merely an indication of his great kindness in general? What did his coming all this way mean? Perhaps she would now learn the reason that he was with Mr Ambrose on the day she discovered that he had been with Miss Rush in Ramsgate. She was at a loss to understand what he might have to add to what they already knew!

‘I confess that I cannot have any idea of what you are going to say, Captain Edwin, but I beg you will relate anything you know.'

‘I shall do so, Miss Dashwood, in the hopes that you may find yourself less—afflicted—as naturally you must be, by the unhappy destruction of your fondest hopes. My cousin has imposed on your affections, all the while acting unforgivably. I cannot expect that your suffering will be short, for I am sure that you must have cared for him very much, but perhaps you will find that knowing the circumstances under which you engaged yourself to him, might alleviate just a little what pain was inflicted.'

It was all she could do not to immediately deny that her heart had not indeed been imposed upon so very far that she had not already recovered it quite completely! To confess such a thing to the man she was wholly and completely in love with, and whom she never thought to see again! She did not think it possible to keep her composure, and so she said nothing, conscious that Marianne and the Colonel would not expect her behaviour to be any different with Captain Edwin than with any body else.

She said evenly, ‘You are very kind, Sir. I own I am in a great curiosity to hear what you can add to what is already known about the affair. I confess some parts of it—his motive, and intentions— are still a mystery to me.'

Marianne now called for tea, and Colonel Brandon, seeing that his guest was comfortable, bid Captain Edwin begin his tale. Tall hat on his knee, Captain Edwin began hesitantly.

‘When you left Norland three months ago, Miss Dashwood, I own I had no idea of your ever coming into my cousin's company, although he is a great acquaintance of Mrs Dashwood's. I, who knew what my cousin was! But it never occurred to me that he would look in your direction, or that you would be so much thrown together. To tell the truth I cannot forgive myself for not having spoken to Dashwood himself, the minute Emily told me you had been much in my cousin's society as part of Mrs John Dashwood's circle. But you were under his protection and I never considered my interference would be required. As it is, I still cannot understand why your brother allowed—well!'

Here he paused, clearly much disturbed in his feelings, and Margaret almost blushed, feeling that he had been about to say that John ought to have warned her of Ambrose. But as it was only she herself who had some idea of Fanny's part in the affair, of Fanny's having a great influence over her husband, and indeed, of Fanny's express intention of throwing her into Ambrose's company for her own devises, she did not wish to bring John into disrepute with the rest of his family, and she remained silent.

Captain Edwin, at any rate, composed himself and began again. ‘You have known, Miss Dashwood, of my connection with Charlton Park, my uncle's estate in Suffolk? My cousin, Charles Ambrose, is the grandson and heir of Lord Thomas Ambrose, Earl of Melbourne, his own father being deceased many years ago. Now, my uncle's younger brother also died many years ago, but not before marrying twice, first to a woman who bore him no sons, and then just before his death to a widow with a daughter and a son—myself. Mama was somewhat of a favourite of my uncle then, especially after my step-father died, and in my younger years I was in the habit of making regular visits to Charlton Park with my mother. Lord Melbourne became as fond of me as I was of him, urging me to consider him family, despite the lack of blood relation, and thus I grew up having something to do with Charles, my cousin. He was—is—somewhat younger than me, but as he grew up, (very wild, I must say) I have kept in contact with Charles in the most limited way, partly because our lives diverged down very different paths in life—he was the heir to the estate, and a gentleman, while I was obliged to earn a living and chose the navy to make my fortune. It was not lost on me, however, that my cousin is considered as wild now as he was ten years ago—and with vices that outnumber those of other men. Gambling, drinking, the seduction of young ladies, and, I must add, dishonesty in business dealings.'

‘Go on,' encouraged Colonel Brandon, now listening most avidly. ‘I suspect something of what you are going to say, but I will restrain myself until I have heard it all.'

‘That would be wise, Colonel, since the events I shall now relate may oblige you act with the utmost restraint possible. My uncle despaired of his grandson ever settling down and making himself respectable enough to inherit Charlton Park without bringing disaster to the estate and gambling away his fortune, which added to his income from Rannocks, his own estate in Suffolk, will be a great sum. Therefore, my uncle recently stipulated that Charles marry and settle his ways, in order to inherit when his time came.

‘Now my cousin also had, in recent years, entered into a business partnership with a Mr Claymore, with whom I believe you might be acquainted, as he is a great friend of my cousin's.'

‘Mr Claymore again! But what can he have to do with all this?' exclaimed Margaret. ‘My sister thinks him in some way involved with a terrible misfortune that they recently endured—the loss of their little fortune—that is, almost all of Edward's inheritance—in a business dealing with this Mr Claymore, and what is any of that to do with Mr Ambrose? My brother John assured me undoubtedly of Mr Ambrose's having nothing at all to do with Edward's losses.'

‘Fine questions indeed!' replied Captain Edwin gravely, ‘but pray allow me time to state the facts and you shall decide what significance they must have.

‘Now I come to the events of the past three months. Miss Dashwood, when you left us at Hadston, I confess I had not thought I would ever see you again, nor hear of you, except through the correspondence that you so kindly agreed to carry on with my daughter Emily. When the news came of your engagement to my cousin, knowing his character, and knowing his reputation, I was visited by not a small degree of alarm at your becoming involved with him. I confess, and you will think me impertinent, Miss Dashwood, that I set out for Suffolk directly, to make some investigations on your behalf.

‘I arrived unannounced, but my uncle is always so kind as to welcome me, and thus I was able to spend a day with him, and make some tentative investigations into my cousin's doings. It was with the hopes of being satisfied in myself that my cousin was now ready to settle down, and make of himself a good husband, since the inheritance of Charlton Park depended upon his doing so, on the behest of my uncle, who as I said earlier, had conditioned that to inherit, Charles would have to marry. I had heard previously of Mr Ambrose's venture into shipping underwriting with his friend, Mr Claymore, and it was on this matter that I questioned my uncle. You recall I spoke of Mr Claymore, Miss Dashwood?'

‘Yes,' replied Margaret, much alarmed now. ‘But I did not know Mr Ambrose had become directly involved in the same business. Fanny told me that they were somehow connected through business, but I had no idea of the details,' she added unhappily.

Marianne and the Colonel been listening intently. ‘This is very bad,' cried Marianne, ‘for my sister Elinor. You know they lost the seven thousand pounds of Edward's inheritance, from Mr Claymore's venture going under—she told me that they were advised it was because the underwriters could not pay out when three ships became wrecked in a terrible storm all at the same time.'

‘I am aware of it—but Mrs Brandon, all is not lost, as I shall soon elaborate. Let me finish my tale, and you will be satisfied as to all. First, when I heard about his having gone into business with Mr Claymore, I was not a little anxious, for this Claymore has been before a court once before—for fraud. The matter was dismissed on account of there being too little proof, but already his name was tarnished among us navy people, for his bad dealings and dishonest practice. However, at first this did not give me very much anxiety on your own account, Miss Dashwood. I had not associated the nature of his business dealings with your situation. I only enquired in a general way, in order to discover my cousin's general circumstances and motives. I—I wanted to be sure of Miss Dashwood's being happy and safe—and that her brother was aware of the situation.'

‘You have taken a lot of trouble on behalf of my sister,' remarked Marianne. ‘To be so selfless, so completely disinterested a party, and to make enquiries on her behalf—it is more than we would have been able to do ourselves—you are so very kind, Captain Edwin!'

Captain Edwin coloured a little. ‘It really is nothing—the offices of a friend—as I said, I considered it my duty, since I thought that Mr John Dashwood must be a stranger to the circumstances or he would surely have discouraged my cousin's suit. As it was, even I did not guess the extent of Charles' perfidy. It was only after I continued on to London and made further inquiries that I discovered a plan so heinous, so cruel that even I did not believe it of my cousin.'

‘What can you mean?' cried Margaret. ‘What did he do? Besides seducing a young woman and almost ruining her, what can be added to such treachery?'

Captain Edwin inclined his head, but his expression was sombre. ‘You are so kind as to believe your Mr Ambrose only guilty of seduction, but I'm afraid there is more and it may shock you. My uncle had confirmed for me the fact of his asking you to marry him, but not of your first refusal of that offer. When I made more enquiries in town, I decided to interview my cousin myself, for he guessed nothing of my former acquaintance with you. He was, at first, unwilling to see me, but I found him at his club, and feigned an accidental meeting. In the throes of being in his cups, I encouraged him to drink more, and after a time he became quite verbose.

"I am engaged," he told me, "to the most perfect creation in the country—a Miss Dashwood of Devonshire. It is true that she has no fortune, but her face and form are divine! I shall be the envy of my peers."

"Oh?" replied I with a studied disinterest, in order that he would not guess at my knowing the young lady. "Your grandfather will be pleased, then, that you have taken seriously his desire that you marry and settle down your ways a little."

"Settle my ways? Ha!" he laughed aloud. "I shall do just as I like, and grandfather be dammed. I shall not alter my lifestyle to suit an old man who is for the grave in a few short years! But if grandfather must have his way, and oblige me to marry in order to get my inheritance, then I shall do it to please myself!"

"Your grandfather perhaps is not so unwise as to order you to marry," said I.'

"My grandfather ought to be pleased that I have settled the matter so fast and with such a pretty female as he will surely approve. She is educated, to the point of being able to converse well, but is not educated too much, for I find an educated lady's opinions are always fixed and invariable and her mind cannot be worked upon in many cases. But Miss Dashwood's mind is empty enough of such ideas as will allow me to form her opinions for her—the very best advantage in a marriage, do not you agree, Edwin?"

‘I nodded along with him, hoping to hear more, and was not disappointed. "How old is this ingenue of yours, Charles?" I asked him, pretending curiosity and envy alike. He always was inclined to a boast.

"She is a little older than I prefer them," said he, with such a look in his eye as made me cold to see it, "but she seems biddable enough. She is a child—na?ve as a babe—with ideas unformed and opinions which will always be my own! She shall not give me a wink of trouble once we are married, I vouch for it. And so very handsome! My dear cuz, she will be a great addition to my art collection at Rannocks!"

‘My cousin, I'm afraid to say, laughed as if Miss Dashwood were not more than a chattel to be collected, and I confess, it took all my restraint not to knock him down there and then! But, on a whim, I chanced to uncover the truth, for I pretended admiration for his making the conquest so quickly, to which he replied, "But old chap, is it any wonder that a woman of no fortune, no family connections worth mentioning, would accept me immediately? And yet I had a little difficulty with her, at first. She took some offence to me, over some silly trifle I suppose, although she should have shown nothing but eager humility to receive my proposals. Would you have it, when the time came, she actually refused me! Yes, you might well look astonished John, for what can a Miss Margaret Dashwood of no rank and standing in society be thinking of to refuse the most eligible bachelor in town! I singled her out—well, I own it was not I, but my friend Mr John Dashwood, and his wife, who acquired her for me, but once I saw how excellent an addition she would make to my household, and since my grandfather was pushing the point, I thought it had better be her than another, and I have to go through all the ridiculous process again of winning a new heart!"

"She is full young, Charles," said I carefully, wondering if I might caution him against a union with a woman so very inexperienced. "You are a man of the world—these young ladies you dabble with—you know you are a wolf among lambs—why not for once, find a woman who is your equal, someone whom will not find herself out of her depth in your world. There are many handsome women in town at present—you might offer for any one of them and be accepted. After the novelty of Miss Dashwood wears off, surely you will become bored with such innocence. Would not an older female suit your character more? Be more able to run your household?"

"If I didn't know better, Edwin, I would say you sound as if you are positively discouraging me from this lady in particular! It is no good, however! You know I like my females straight from the cradle."

"And how did you convince the lady to accept you," I asked him, trying not to allow him to see my disgust.

"The lady refused me at first, and so I had, with a little conniving, to form a plan to simply make her accept me!"

"And how, pray," asked I nonchalantly, giving nothing of my feeling away, but almost ready to challenge him then and there, "did you mange to force her hand?"

"Why, I happened to be in on an investment in shipping insurances that her brother had made—a sizeable sum too—so all I had to do was to get Claymore to write them a letter, saying that the business had gone bankrupt and that they had lost everything they had put into it, and once she was satisfied that her sister and brother-in-law had lost all their fortunes, it was easy to convince her to accept me on the grounds of being in a position to help her family. I cashed in the investment, pocketed a tidy sum, paid off the right people so the matter would be covered up adequately, and just like that, her hand was forced by the need of doing her sister a service. I made it clear that I would provide for them, should she accept my offer. She could not, after such a generous offer, refuse me!"

Marianne and Margaret gasped in unison. ‘It cannot be!' cried Margaret. ‘So it was a trick to force my hand? But that is wicked indeed! Fanny made such a deal of it—I suppose he went to her with his plan—she knew all the time!'

Colonel Brandon however, was of a different opinion. ‘She may not have known it,' he reminded thoughtfully. ‘Can your sister be as bad as this? Perhaps she, too, was duped, just as Margaret was.'

‘That is true,' replied Marianne, ‘but all the same, how she could apply guilt to Meg in order to make her marry against her will is shameful!'

Margaret was silent, her mind going over the events of that period. Had Fanny known? Her brother, she thought, had not known, for she was sure he would not have betrayed her, despite his often pompous and climbing ways.

Captain Edwin continued, ‘I was aghast, and now I had learned all, I could not, I'm afraid, hold back. I let him know my fist intimately. Down he went to the floor but sprung up again as quickly, blood coming from his nose. "Devil have it, Edwin, what has gotten into you? You are too good for me, is that it? This is why I never drink my spirit with you, dear cuz—you have not the spine for company such as mine! I always said you were a feeble character," he sneered at me, "too good to live in this world, hey? I don't know why old Melbourne makes such a fuss of you! But is that all you have for me? Then be gone, and don't drink with me again!"

‘I left, more angry than I can say, Miss Dashwood, on your behalf, and on your poor sister's. I had no idea of the sum they had lost, but knowing it was at the hand of my cousin, and you were likely uninformed about the facts, I felt I could not let the matter rest there. I had no idea of my uncle's knowing what underhanded tactics his grandson had played out, and so I went again to the north to see him, and to talk the matter over.

‘My uncle, upon hearing of his grandson's exploits, was as little amused as I, but having had more tolerance for him for many years, and knowing intimately his character, he was not surprised. "I only conditioned for his getting a wife, and making himself more respectable," said he. "All this gallivanting around and ruining young ladies—he cannot do it when he is the master of this place. But how he gets a wife, I did not stipulate. I feel sorry for this Miss Dashwood, but only remember that she, too, will benefit from being the wife of Mr Charles Ambrose, and his fortune, I am sure, will go a long way to alleviating any disappointment she might have after the event. Still," he sighed, "this whole business of his committing such a treacherous act against the lady's family, while he benefits. She was tricked, I grant you, into accepting his hand. Leave it with me, John, and I shall look into the matter myself and if anything can be done for the lady's people, it shall be done."

‘I betook myself directly to town once again, after hearing these sentiments from my uncle, at once to beg an interview with John Dashwood, your brother, so that all might be laid out before him and he act to safeguard you from any hasty unions with such a man. You may well, I conceded, have been in love with Charles, but I felt that you and your brother Mr Dashwood ought to know the truth about his character and your being manipulated to accept him, before you were unable to retract your promise, should you have wished it.'

Margaret, hearing all this, and in some amazement at what had occurred, was pale with shock. ‘I had no idea of Mr Ambrose's being so callous, so wicked,' she cried. ‘How can I ever thank you,' she added in low tones, ‘for your kindness in exposing these facts to me? If it was not for Mr Ambrose's being discovered with Miss Henrietta Rush in Ramsgate that day, I may have forever chained myself to such a man as would make me unhappier than I had ever imagined. But tell me, please, why were you in his carriage on the day that he was exposed in Ramsgate?'

He started in some astonishment. ‘How did you know of my presence in town that day? I suppose someone saw me and told you?'

‘I saw you myself,' she replied simply. ‘I was with my friends in Bond-street, in the teashop there, and I happened to see you step from the carriage with Mr Ambrose. Mr Claymore was there too. You seemed in a very ill-temper with your cousin, and I confess I was somewhat astonished to see you there—I had thought you many miles off in Sussex. I did not mean to pry, but I cannot help but suspect your being in town had something to do with his exposure in Kent.'

Captain Edwin sighed. ‘It is indeed true that I was there that day. I had hoped to spare myself the embarrassment of an explanation but since you have found me out, Miss Dashwood, I must confess all. I told you that I had gone to London to demand an interview with your brother, Mr John Dashwood. My reason for doing so was to expose Ambrose to him and beg that you be informed of the character of the man you were engaged to marry. But as it happened, events transpired that made it unnecessary for the interview.

‘When I arrived in town after that last interview with my uncle I went directly to your brother's club, thinking that he might be there. I didn't wish to call in Harley-street in order to avoid seeing you, for I felt it was not my place to inform you of the character of your fiancé. When I asked for him, however, I could not find him and was about to leave and call in Harley-street after all when I overheard two men talking. It was the mention of your name, and that of Miss Henrietta Rush which caught my ear. It was none other than Mr Rush, who was demanding to know the whereabouts of Mr Ambrose, who was said to have gone to the coast with a female whom he intended to enjoy.

‘Knowing my cousin as I do, I knew that Ramsgate was a favourite place of his, and soon ascertained that my cousin was said, the very previous day, to have lured Miss Henrietta there, and was with her in a seedy hotel, ruining her reputation as they spoke. Wishing to be of help, I offered to go with Mr Rush and discover them. We went directly to call a carriage, and several hours later we pulled into Ramsgate. Locating the pair was not difficult as the gentleman was known in those parts. Mr Rush, incensed with rage, had soon charged upon the place, and with my help we located the young lady, and her father at once dragged her from the room and into the carriage.

My cousin, who had brought his own carriage, was defiant. "What are you doing here, Edwin, that it is any of your business what I do in my leisure hours? Leave me!"

"You have," said I with only barely held restraint, "made a laughing stock of the young lady to whom you are betrothed. You have used her abominably, not to mention poor Miss Rush who now must join the ranks of the other young women who you have ruined and abandoned."

‘He laughed in my face, I am afraid to say, but I insisted that we travel back to London together, so as to hear the full story from him, so that I was able to report back to his grandfather. It was not a surprise to me that Claymore was also in Ramsgate, having accompanied them into Kent in his own carriage, presumably to avoid being recognised. Claymore engaged the room for them. He is as bad as his friend, and I only wish that you had had nothing to do with either of them, Miss Dashwood.

‘When we gained town, I had him drop me in Bond-street, and it was there that you saw me leave his carriage, exchange some bitter words with him, and leave him and Claymore to do what they would. I knew that it would not take long for word to get out by means of Mr Rush and I remained in town only to satisfy myself that my cousin was fully exposed for what he was, and that your brother had called off the engagement, and that you were safe. Once I had assured myself of your safety, I left town and returned to Sussex.'

‘Now I understand why you were in town!' cried Margaret. ‘I cannot but feel sorry for Miss Rush…I suppose she will have to suffer her reward, or enjoy her punishment, for she has what she wanted—Mr Ambrose, whom she flirted with and made eyes at every time I ever saw them together. Now that he has been forced to marry her, I hope she is satisfied.'

Captain Edwin smiled grimly. ‘And yet, such was to be your fate, Miss Dashwood. You who would have been so much more deserving of a fortune and a husband, but I cannot begin myself to say that you ever deserved him for a husband.'

‘I have made, as they say Captain, a lucky escape, and I cannot thank you warmly enough for your kindnesses to me. I can hardly think of the trouble you took on my behalf without feeling very much indebted to you,' she added warmly.

Captain Edwin bowed. ‘I could not act in any other way, Miss Dashwood. But there is something more which I have to relate to you. It concerns the seven thousand pounds which Edward Ferrars invested and which my cousin pocketed, after claiming company losses.'

Marianne started up. ‘Yes, you said "all was not lost" Captain. What did you mean by that? There is still some hope for Edward's money, then?'

‘My uncle has decreed that his grandson repay every cent that he effectively duped from your brother and sister, Mrs Brandon.'

The company was now greatly astonished. ‘What do you mean, Sir?' asked the Colonel. ‘How could Edward's loss ever be recompensed?'

‘The entire sum invested by Mr Edward Ferrars was pocketed and your brother told a lie. A magistrate has now looked into the affair, and Claymore will again appear in the courts to answer for his fraudulent behaviour. Unfortunately, because my cousin was not legally a part of the company, he will no doubt claim no knowledge of the affair and live to do business again. But he will pay, from his estate, under the command of his grandfather. Lord Melbourne has seen fit to order his grandson to make reparation of the money that was invested.'

‘That is wonderful news, wonderful indeed!' Marianne and Margaret were overjoyed, and the Colonel shook Captain Edwin's hand. ‘You are too good, Sir. My brother-in-law will no doubt wish to thank you himself—perhaps I can have Mr Ferrars sent for? Generally he is to be found at his desk, writing his sermon for Sunday, but as the Parsonage is merely a short walk from here, I beg your patience while I summon him and my sister.'

‘Oh, yes, Captain Edwin,' encouraged Marianne, ‘Edward and Elinor must be summoned to hear this news!'

Captain Edwin bowed slightly, but looked in the direction of Margaret. ‘I wonder, Miss Dashwood, since your sister and her husband live so close by, if I might give myself the honour of calling upon them at home, if you would be so good as to show me the way? That is, if you think it would not be intruding?'

Margaret, who had been suspiciously quiet during this last interchange, colouring rather much, agreed, feeling that if she did not speak privately with him soon, her chance would be lost. ‘Of course, Captain. I will fetch my shawl, if you wouldn't mind waiting just a moment.'

Conscious of curious eyes watching her leave the room, she composed herself, despite her fluttering heart and rosy cheeks, and in a few minutes was leading him through the kitchen garden and down to the high wall that enclosed Delaford house. She was conscious of his warmth beside her, his presence very close as they walked together along the path beside the brook. No word had yet been uttered between them, and she was not sure how she could begin to speak to him. She wanted so much to ask him outright what his words had implied—his words since he had entered the house had all been directed at herself—his actions in investigating Ambrose, and in exposing him, had all been for herself—did she have any leave to hope, against all hope, that he did not detest her, that he did not, after all, resent her? Why had he gone to so much trouble for her own benefit alone?

She was soon to discover it. Once they reached the bridge which spanned the brook and brought them to the Parsonage, Captain Edwin spoke. ‘What a pretty scene. May we stop a moment, Miss Dashwood?' Then she was obliged to stop also.

The late morning sunlight peered between the bare branches of the trees, warming the chilly air a little. Below them, the little stream flowed slowly, and she fixed her attention on it rather than look at him, painfully self-conscious. Her heart fluttered madly, for she knew that this was the moment in which all would be repaired between them or lost forever.

He nodded at the little gurgling waterway and said easily, ‘I remember just such a brook not so long ago, at Norland. You, I believe caught your very first trout.'

His voice was warm, humour tinging its tones. How very composed he was, she marvelled, when her own heart beat as if it was trying to escape her chest! Attempting to keep her voice steady, she risked a glance at him, and said, ‘I believe I only held the rod—with your help!' She could not help smiling at the memory. ‘It was the first time I had gone fishing—I believe my gown became quite wet!'

‘You were wise to remove your boots, but I hope you did not get into a scrape with Fanny over it. '

‘Not at all!' She risked a glance at him, and because they were almost as easy together as they had once been, she smiled at him. It was almost as if they had never been parted, she thought with wonder.

He smiled back at her, his eyes as blue and twinkling as they had ever been, but there was gravity in them too. ‘Miss Dashwood—I wonder…that is, I must beg leave to say, if you will permit it, that I am so very sorry for you—the ordeal you must have endured at the hand of my cousin—I cannot tell you how deeply I have felt your loss. You must have suffered dreadfully when you discovered his character more thoroughly. And now I have come and made a complete villain of him—I hope you are not too much distressed by the things that I have related.'

‘No, indeed!' she cried in a low tone. ‘I thank you, for now I understand so much more that I could not piece together before! The matter regarding my brother and sister—their terrible losses at his hand! Thank God you discovered it all!'

‘Still, to discover the man that you loved was the means of undoing a dear family member—I cannot offer much in the way of comfort, Miss Dashwood but I can say that I hope that your pain and suffering will be of short duration, that your recovery will be complete, and that you will, indeed, soon be happy again. He was not half your worth—despite his great fortune, and your humble background, he was not worthy of you!' His tone was warm, angry on her behalf.

Her eyes grew larger, and denials seemed frozen on her tongue! He thought her still in love with Mr Ambrose! But how was she to tell him that she was not—that she had never been—in love with Charles Ambrose, without giving her own feelings away? She was sure—almost sure—that Captain Edwin still felt something for her—but she could not reveal her own feelings unless she was sure of his.

Nervously, she turned half away from him to look over the little bridge into the trees, and said in low tones, ‘Captain Edwin— what you have done for me—on my behalf—was so very kind. I—I am glad that Mr Ambrose's actions were exposed when they were—for I feel most sincerely that I have been saved from a union which would have made me very unhappy. If money and elevated connections were all that I required for happiness, then perhaps I should not have fared so very badly in the case, but when I do marry, I wish it—very much wish it—to be for love, love alone.'

‘Then—you were not—you are not—in love with my cousin?'

She turned to meet his blue eyes shyly with her own dark ones. ‘No—I confess I was never in love with Mr Ambrose. I daresay I thought I was, for a short time—but I realized quickly that there were things that revealed his character to me even as we spent so much time together—things that I ought to have paid more attention to—but despite my foolish naivety, I think I always knew that I was not in love with him. There was always something about him which drew me in—his worldliness, his way of making himself seem so condescending to pay his attentions to me—for a time I felt mesmerized as if by a snake charmer. But there was a cruelty about him too, a lack of humanity, which I came to see even before we parted. I was glad, in the end, to be free of him. I was a child, playing a game of which I did not know the rules, and I am convinced that in marrying him I would have spent many unhappy years trapped in a marriage with a man whom I could not love.'

He was staring at her very intently, and self-conscious, she continued hurriedly. ‘You see, I hardly knew what love was! I have been raised in the country, with small and unvarying society, and my experience of the gentlemen in Barton and Delaford has been so limited as to make me think that I needed to see more of the world. I wanted to expand my knowledge of the world, in order to know my own heart—and yet, I could not have been more mistaken! '

‘Indeed? In what way, Miss Dashwood?' His eyes were intent upon her.

‘I—I have been very foolish, Captain Edwin. I already knew my own heart—what I wanted—how I might be happy—but I thought I needed to see more of the world before deciding such things about my future. Then Mr Ambrose proposed to me, and I think I refused him because I knew that he could not make me happy—but then came the news of Edward and Elinor's misfortune, and Fanny put so much pressure on me to accept his hand, as a means of doing my duty to my family—and then it was too late!'

‘For wishing to be of service to your family, you should not feel badly, for duty is almost the highest calling, Miss Dashwood. Service and duty can never be thought foolish, when motivated by love.'

Margaret was moved, and her eyes became very bright. ‘Thank you, Captain. Coming from you, that means much to me.'

‘I am glad to hear you are not wounded beyond what is bearable, by my cousin's behaviour. Even if you did not love him, the humiliation of his behaviour must have been difficult to endure. But it is he who must now feel humiliated—and I hope very much that his new wife will plague his heart out.'

She looked up, to find him smiling mischievously down at her. She could not help but laugh. ‘Yes, I rather think that he will find a life with Miss Henrietta Rush quite as plaguing as he deserves! He is a thinking man, and will perhaps tire of her company very soon. But since all that he will require is that she decorate his drawing room, produce an heir, and supply him the appearance of respectability, perhaps it will not be so very difficult for him—after all, he will spend a great deal of time in town, while she remains at home raising little Ambroses.'

He laughed. ‘Well said!' He sighed, and turned to inspect the scene that was so interesting to Margaret, then turned to her again. ‘Miss Dashwood? '

She turned to meet his eyes, more sure of herself now than she had ever been before. ‘Yes Captain Edwin?'

His voice was low and grave. ‘You can hardly be unaware of my feelings. I think I have made them plain, by my actions. However, in case you have missed my meaning, I shall make myself very clear indeed, by my words also. I had only to learn that you were not injured beyond hope, by my cousin, and now you have given me that reassurance. I therefore have something very particular to say to you.'

Her dark eyes shone, and it was all she could do not to cast herself into his arms directly, but she wished to hear the words from his mouth first.

He stepped a little toward her, and took her hand, which she did not this time resist. ‘I have been in love with you almost since I met you, Margaret. My feelings have not altered in the course of almost four months, nor will they. Once you said to me that I had known you so short a time that you could not understand how I might judge you worthy of receiving an offer of marriage from me. I have known you now for many months, Margaret, and I do not retract my offer after such a time. In fact, my feelings have only become more sure, just as I told you they would.'

‘I think I also spoke of regretting a hasty and ill-calculated decision,' she smiled, her eyes shining. His hand, covering her own, was warm and firm.

‘I hope that both our days of "ill calculated decisions" are now at an end,' replied he, his eyes twinkling down at her.

‘I also said that I needed time to know myself—to know the world. How foolish I was then! If I had listened purely and solely to my heart, I would have—I was very much inclined—to accept you, back then.' She blushed at the admission. ‘I hope you can forgive me for my capriciousness—I have often regretted causing you pain.'

‘My dear girl! I regret that your coming to "know the world" included knowing my cousin, but I am more grateful than I can say that you have survived your little sojourn in town for the most part unchanged.'

‘No,' cried Margaret, ‘Do not say that! I hope very much that I have changed! I left Delaford a child, foolish, na?ve, and thinking the world held nothing but good, nothing but lambs! I did not believe in wolves, and so I learned quickly that my sister was right—wolves can be found in any place! I learned so much about myself, that I feel an entirely different person in some ways! I had not the wisdom to trust my intuition—about Charles Ambrose, about my brother and Fanny, about—oh so many things! I hope that I have changed, very much, for I would not like to be the child that I was. Those days are gone, and I feel I have come home, and into myself, finally!'

Captain Edwin drew her to him in that moment, and kissed her firmly and for a time, there was silence. Presently they drew apart.

‘You have changed, my Margaret, indeed. But I hope you will not be offended if I say, you are only changed in the things that ought to have changed, the things that naturally would have changed as you had lived your life. But I am very glad to find that you are unchanged in essentials—your appetite for living, your giving and generous spirit, and your freshness, your ability to look at the world as a place of beauty and wonder—that is how I want my Margaret to always be!'

She basked in his adoring gaze, and they turned toward the Parsonage. ‘Tell me something,' he asked curiously, as they walked arm in arm. ‘When did you know you loved me?'

Margaret stopped and turned to him, her eyes shining. ‘Marianne said something to me, when I had gone to her in town and told her about Mr Ambrose's offer. I wanted her advice, you see. She said to me, that if a man was "my air, my sun, my food, and my drink", then I should marry that man. After I chanced to see you in town, standing next to Mr Ambrose—I suddenly knew that it was not Mr Ambrose who made me feel those things. It was you.'

The winter sun was weak in the sky but the two people who stood under the bare branches, beside the little brook that wove its way downhill toward Delaford Parsonage, stood in that chill air for a long time, impervious to the chilly air, before slowly continuing their walk towards the house which stood a little way off under the trees.