Posted on Friday, 2 December 2005
Marianne watched as her mother and sisters disappeared down the lane that led to Barton Park, her heart fluttering in anticipation. Willoughby had asked permission for a private audience with her, and his expression had been so earnest and tender that she had found herself unable to mouth any concerns about propriety or chaperones. She had simply agreed, and he had looked as if she had handed him a precious gift.
Her mother and Elinor, she knew, had not been convinced by her argument for staying at home – they both suspected a rendezvous had been planned, and Marianne could only be grateful that Elinor had not voiced her obvious disapproval. For Willoughby’s intentions could not have been clearer: he meant to ask her to be his wife. Today, finally, would be the justification of all her dearest hopes, the fulfillment of all her sweetest dreams, the moment of declaration. She would, at last, hear the blessed words fall from his lips.
She knew that he loved her. Everything in his voice and manner proclaimed it for the world to know, and the fact that the words themselves had never been uttered meant little to her – how often did young men declare love when in fact they cared nothing for the young woman in question? In her own heart, and in his, and in the eyes of all of their friends, they belonged to each other, and nothing could tear them asunder!
Horses’ hooves sounded on the lane, and Marianne felt her heart beat hard within her, knowing that he had come. She heard his knock and saw Betsy go to admit him, and then he was in the parlour, and she rose and smiled at him with all the tenderness she possessed.
But something was wrong – his smile was not equal to hers, his eyes could not hold her gaze, and he made no move to remove his cloak. Instead, he simply stood in the door, looking embarrassed and uncomfortable.
Deciding that he must be rather nervous – though Heaven knew why he would be – she walked towards him, her hand outstretched.
“For Heaven’s sake, Willoughby, come in and sit down.”
“Thank you for seeing me,” he said haltingly, sitting on the very edge of a chair. “I had hardly hoped…”
“Oh, what nonsense!” she said, brushing the comment aside. “You know very well, Willoughby, that I would grant you anything it was in my power to bestow!”
If anything, his expression became more dejected and he turned his hat in circles in his hands. “Marianne, I…I am afraid that my errand today is not a happy one.”
She stared at him for a few seconds in complete confusion. “Not happy? Why, what is the matter?”
“I have come…I have come to take leave of you. Mrs. Smith has – I am for London.”
The silence that followed this statement was absolute and deafening. Marianne, her face deathly pale and her hands trembling, finally said, “And you are to leave today?”
“Yes. Within the hour.”
Abruptly she rose and walked to the fireplace, her hands clutched. “And so suddenly, Willoughby! Not a word to any of us! Your behavior yesterday – you gave no indication!”
“I was unaware – my business is sudden and urgent. I was informed of it only last night.”
“What can you have done to deserve this? For surely Mrs. Smith must believe that she is punishing you for something! Does she disapprove of me? Has she other plans for you?”
Willoughby rose slowly, passing one hand over his eyes as he grimaced. “Mrs. Smith has no – she does not – it is not within her power – you have nothing to do with this!”
“But you cannot have displeased her?”
He was silent.
“Cannot you refuse her? Refuse to go to London?”
“You very well know I cannot, Marianne. She is my sole living relation.”
“And are her wishes to be more important than your own! Than mine!”
“Marianne…”
Tears began to spill from her luminous eyes. “London! You are to leave…”
“Yes.”
“I shall not see you – our music, our books, our walks and rides…oh! Willoughby!”
He strode to her side. “Believe me, Marianne, this is not my choice. Were I to consult only my own wishes…not for the world! You and your dear family are everything to me, and never would I willingly part from you! But circumstances – and Mrs. Smith – I cannot deny her.”
“But you can deny yourself, and me, and everyone who loves you!”
The words surprised both of them, as they were as near a declaration as possible and Marianne, overcome by her feelings, and seeing her mother and sisters on the cottage path, covered her face with her handkerchief and fled the room.