Beginning, Section II, Next Section
Chapter Ten
"Shall we be off?" Edward asked, giving Eleanor his arm. She smiled a feminine smile, and they strolled southward to the stables.
As they arrived and prepared to saddle, Eleanor asked which horse he would prefer.
"Who is this?" he asked, stopping in front of a beautiful, creamy colored Clydesdale.
"Cyrus.....one of father's favorites. It's Persian for "the Sun." He's very calm and obedient. Father used to take him out to tour the fields."
"And which is yours?"
"Here she is--Marion." Eleanor rested her hand on a dapple gray mare, who put it's nose to her cheek. There was a long pause before Eleanor continued. "And who would you like to ride today? Cyrus isn't inclined to a riding saddle, but here's one of father's other horses--Percious; he is quick and sure of his footing." Eleanor walked to a stall a little further down and stroked a black stallion with a star on his forehead.
"He's magnificent!" Edward said, as he came up behind Eleanor and petted the horse's muzzle. Standing behind her, with her back to him, his arm stretched out past her, he could smell the heavenly lavender again. She looked over her shoulder, not realizing how closely he was standing; their faces were now only centimeters apart. Their eyes locked intensely, a tender moment passed where each knew what was on the other's mind. Edward even gradually started leaning in slightly when Eleanor blushed a deep crimson and turned back to the horse.
Once they were saddled comfortably, they rode at a trot for some time, neither speaking. About half an hour later, as they neared a small lake, they slowed down to let the horses rest.
Feeling that some conversation had to be made, Edward began. "H-have you been successful in f-finding your future home as of yet?"
"No, our income will not allow for the extravagant homes Marianne and Mother wish to procure. We have received no suitable offers................What are your plans for the future? A gentleman of your stature has normally gone into his profession by this age, has he not?"
"Ah......Yes, well......I'm afraid I have not found a profession that my family and I have agreed upon. I had originally wanted to go into the parsonage, but that wasn't smart enough for my mother. My mother and in the beginning my father had wished me into the Military........But the Military is a good deal too smart for me..."
"And what do you wish now?"
"I still wish for a parish of my own."
"In London?"
"I have no taste for society. I'd prefer a quiet, small living......without many parishioners......where I could give very short sermons...."
"At least, as a man, you are allowed to change your station. The only way a woman can better her situation is to marry well, and.....well, in our state, it is unlikely that any of us will marry," Eleanor commented almost bitterly.
They rode on in silence for a few more minutes, each lost in their own thoughts.
I am such a fool.....How could I go on about my sorry situation for so long, without regard to her feelings? Her situation is much worse, how have I any right to complain? Poor Elea-Miss Dashwood................I still wish there were some way to help....at all.....
"Margaret's right...." he said, trying to lighten the atmosphere.
Eleanor looked at him questioningly.
"Piracy is our only option."
Chapter Eleven
They slowed the horses to a slow walk as they neared the stables again. After dismounting, they began walking the horses towards the groom.
"If you must thank me.......Please do it for yourself, and not your family.....Eleanor."
They had ceased walking when Edward began his speech. Eleanor blushed at the familiar way her addressed her, not at all unpleased. She raised her head to look into his eyes, smiling winningly.
"Thank you.....Edward........."
A silence ensued, and they continued walking. Just as the groom was taking the horses, a servant came with a message from Fanny. She had been looking for him nearly two hours, and wished to speak with him immediately.
With a rueful look at Eleanor, he gently took her hand and kissed it.
"I shall see you at dinner?"
Eleanor nodded, smiling one of her radiant smiles. Upon receiving her reply, he turned and walked to the house. It was all he could do to keep from cavorting all over the yard. His heart was light, and he felt like he was floating on air.
Dash Lucy! I love Eleanor!
Upon entering the house, Betsy informed him that Mrs. Fanny Dashwood was expecting him in the study. He knocked boldly at her door, still happy with thoughts of sweet Eleanor and her lavender!
"Who is it?" Fanny called.
"Your elder brother, dear sister!" He said as he entered without being admitted. "Now! What ever is the matter?" He asked, bending over, kissing her forehead with flourish, and patting her hair. "Whatever it is, I'm sure Betsy can see to it," he walked absently around the back of the chair. His grin only broadened as his eyes landed on a landscape, in Eleanor's style and with her delicate signature at the bottom.
"Edward!" Fanny nearly screamed for the third time. "What has gotten into you? You never behave in this manner! Has a dog turned rabid and bitten you? Where have you been? I've been looking for you nearly all day!"
"Nonsense Fanny! Betsy informs me it is only two hours. I have been gone three, if you must know. El-Miss Dashwood and I went riding. Have you been to the stables? Very fine stallion there - I think Cyrus was his name. Wait, no, that was the Clydesdale, the stallion was Percious, though I did fancy Cyrus at first. He's a large, brute of an animal, but very calm, and not at all dense."
"Edward! Stop!" Fanny begged. "You are simply making my head spin! I shall become faint!"
"Don't ever have children, Fanny! Especially ones like Miss Margaret! They'd drive you mad! Especially if you didn't have a governess. Even if you had twenty wet nurses, governess', nannies, and other care givers, I don't think you could escape seeing them at some time or another, and if you can't bear a full grown man completely in love...!!...With autumn, than I dare say I do not know how Miss Margaret has not driven you a bit touched since your arrival! Only give her time! She will accomplish the feat, I dare say, by the time you have thrown them out of the house!"
"Edward! You have forgotten yourself!" Fanny said sharply, not knowing whether to be frightened, saddened, or furious at her brother's sudden insanity.
"No, Fanny! I believe I have just found myself! But.....!" he asked, finally standing still in front of her, hands behind back, legs shoulder width apart, like a soldier. "What was it you needed oh so very desperately?"
"...Ooohhhhh....!" Fanny said in a perturbed manner. "You have completely driven it from my mind with your constant agitation! Oh! I am feeling feverish! Call Betsy! Call Betsy, I may faint!"
"Nonsense, Fanny!" Edward scolded. "What you need is a brisk walk. You don't go out of doors often enough, you know! Your face is as white as snow!" With that, he took her arm, pulling her to her feet. It was quite a sight to see, Edward leading Fanny around in circles, like a horse. He thought about this as Fanny fairly galloped to keep up with his long strides, and laughed internally. After a few minutes he sat her back down and posed his question again. "What did you need to see me about?"
"Oh! I, ah.......I....oh! Now I recall! I wanted to ask you how you found Miss Harrison, and to scold you for leaving the party so soon! It was very rude of you, leaving me in the lion's den all alone! Those ladies are the very highest of society! Everyone admires them, and they called upon me! And you left! But, tell me again, how did you find Miss Harrison?"
Edward laughed merrily at her ludicrous behavior. "I found Miss Harrison to be a very nice sort of girl," he admitted.
"Girl? Girl!? Nice? Nice girl? Miss Harrison?"
"She was very congenial, but I did not find her especially receptive or beautiful."
"Congenial? Not receptive? Not beautiful?!"
"Fanny, if you insist on repeating every word I say, this will grow tiresome very quickly," Edward whined, making his way towards the door, fully intending to seek out Eleanor once more.
"Well, what about that Miss Steele girl?"
Fanny had his attention, now.
"She was very quiet."
"Not after you left. She spoke of you very highly!"
"She spoke of me?" Edward feared the worst.
"Oh, yes. She said she had seen you during your schooling often, but had never been formally introduced. She had always wondered who you were."
Edward sighed.
"I shall search about and see if I can find any connections in her blood. She was dressed very elegantly, and a very sweet girl, but I believe her London relations to inhabit Cheapside. That would never do, of course, but if not Miss Harrison, then who?"
He had had enough. Opening the door, with one foot in the hallway, Fanny called him back.
"Edward Garret Ferrars! Stop right there! I have five or six wise words for your ear!"
Edward Garret stepped reluctantly further into the room again, and sat in the chair opposite Fanny's.
"Edward! You are my brother, and my mother's son."
Yes, I believe I already knew that, Fanny. Edward thought with exasperation.
She was waiting for an answer, so Edward replied dutifully, "Yes, Fanny."
"Our mother and I have frequently discussed your future, sir, and we have tried repeatedly to help you into a family of your own! Do you intend to stay a bachelor all your life? Mother and I will not stand for it! You must find yourself a suitable wife Edward, and soon. Shortly, no one will have you, and there will be no hope left!"
There's only one woman I care to have the favor of! I believe I have already won that!
"Fanny, I have long since noticed our mother's and your attempts to...throw me into the paths of rich, single females, and I appreciate your efforts, truly I do, b-"
"Then why do you not try harder? Edward, if you had spent but fifteen more minutes with any of the women mother and I have presented, you might be married, settled, and a father of six by now!"
"Six?" He thought about this for a moment. "Yes! I think that's a good number. When I marry, I shall have six children Fanny, but not till then. Now, quite seriously Fanny, as I was saying before, I thank you and mother for your pains, but the women you two have in mind for me are not the ones that I have in mind for myself. I do not care for society, I never have. The women I am expected to pay court to are all social seeking simpletons." Say that ten times quickly. "I do not wish for that sort of a wife."
"But Edw-"
"No more, Fanny, please. I wish you to trust my judgment in matters of my own heart from now on."
"Your heart? What has your heart to do with anything? We simply wish you to marry!" Fanny was near tears now, in frustration.
"That, my sister, is where we differ a great deal." Edward rose and walked to the door. "I will not marry where there is not love." He left abruptly, leaving Fanny to wonder and muse over the recent happenings.
Chapter Twelve
"How did you find your sister?" Eleanor asked, gently petting Marion.
Edward had returned immediately from the house to the stables in search of Eleanor, despite the overcast sky and the steadily increasing wind. She was still there. Waiting. For him?
"Ah, yes." Edward laughed. "Very ill, I believe, when I left her."
"That is nothing to jest about!"
"I beg your forgiveness," he laughed.
"You should not be begging my forgiveness, but your sister's."
"I stand corrected. I shall apologize when next I see her."
Eleanor smiled and changed the subject. "How long will you stay at Norland?"
"I have no business in London or such, and no desire to go elsewhere. I believe I shall stay here until I am ready to leave. There is such good company here, that I wouldn't dream of being anywhere else."
"Your sister must be very pleased to see you so often. Mr. Dashwood is rarely at home, and when he is, I believe that he is always in the fields."
"Norland is a grand estate. It takes much keeping."
"Yes, but I've concluded that Mrs. Dashwood is really more lonely and unhappy than she lets on."
"Is she?"
Edward sat on a nearby bale of hay.
"Understandably so. A woman with a great estate, yet no one to share it with. She can not suffer Marianne's company often, for she is too spirited, as it is with Margaret. My mother tries....but......"
"Fanny is invading already claimed territory......This is your home......"
Eleanor nodded, and turned away from him. What is she doing? Have I said something to offend? Oh L-rd, she is crying! What am I supposed to do now?
He stood and walked up behind her, fervently touching her shoulder, he called her name. "Eleanor?"
The sky had grown positively black by this time, admitting almost no light into the stables. Eleanor turned her head around to look at him as the first bolt of lightning struck, illuminating the one tear trickling down her face, followed by a loud rumble of thunder.
"I...I'm sorry," she apologized, trying to hide her face.
He pulled her to him tightly, feeling a sense of impropriety, yet caring no longer. He held her like this for a few minutes, and she clung to him. Pushing her away from him slightly, Edward held her arms firmly as they stood, looking into each other's eyes. He desperately wanted to kiss her. Maybe just one.......? One small, tiny, quick.....kiss? It is unthought of! She will most likely strike me if I take the liberty.....but.........
"We should go in...."
Edward nodded in agreement. His eyes increased in intensity as he leaned forward without further hesitation and kissed her gently. Should it have surprised him that she kissed back? And with such passion? Her arms went around his neck and her fingers laced themselves into the ends of his fine, layered, chestnut hair. Edward put his arms around her small waist and hugged her to him. Her off white muslin shawl fell to the stable floor.
"Sir! Miss! The Mrs. Dashwood's have sent me out a'lookin' for you and are in a terrible fright over the storm!"
Edward and Eleanor pulled back from each other quickly by reflex as the servant entered the stables carrying a lantern. Blushing profusely, yet smiling, Eleanor quickly followed, thanking Jones for the great-coats with hoods he bore for she and Mr. Ferrars. Edward, grinning like a fool, followed suit, and they were soon in the house, in their respective bedchambers, changing out of their drenched clothes.
Mr. Edward Garret Ferrar's bedroom window view was, of course, of the very fine stables of Norland.
Chapter Thirteen
Edward's spirits were still soaring as he sat down to dinner that night.
"Good evening everyone." He placed his linen napkin in his lap. "Fanny, I would like to apologize for my behavior this afternoon. I was terribly out of line, I must have forgotten myself. I can only hope that you will find it in yourself to forgive me."
Fanny's fork stopped mid air, at Edward's remark, and she was slightly aghast. Edward was sure that after today, he would never be able to surprise his sister with anything again. He cast a smile in Eleanor's direction with twinkling eyes, and she pretended to dab at her mouth with her napkin. Mrs. Dashwood, Margaret, and Miss Marianne simply looked questioningly at Edward, but their queries would not be answered. John Dashwood was absent from dinner yet again that night, and Edward was sitting at the head of the table in his place. Margaret was on his left, and Miss Marianne on his right. Eleanor and Mrs. Dashwood were next to Fanny, so he was thankful that the table was short in length. Polite conversation ensued, discussing the storm that was still blowing strong, what good the rain would do the dry lawns, but what harm the wind would cause upon the trees and late summer flowers, and such.
It wasn't long at all before Edward's conscience caught up with him. He paced about his bedchamber that evening, tightening his cravat and loosening it again, running his fingers through his hair, taking off his jacket and putting it back on, looking in the glass and despising himself, and staring out at the dark, dreary night.
What have I done? It was incredibly w-wrong! I should never have put her in that position! I love her, and I do want her as my w-wife, ten times ever more than L-Lucy, but.....! Should I tell her about Lucy? She d-deserves the honest truth of the sort of cad she would be engaged to. I know for a fact that I no longer love Lucy, nor have I ever loved Lucy. But I gave her my word! An o-oath of honor! And she loves me......How can I-I....How can I tell her that I p-prefer another over her? I-I can't! B-But I must! But how can I break the engagement? How can I tell her that she will n-no longer ever be M-Mrs. Edward F-Ferrar's, and that I was so u-disloyal these six years as to fall in love with another woman? Maybe.....Maybe I should tell Eleanor about Lucy....Tell Eleanor.....And if she will still have me, because Eleanor deserves the truth above all, then I will find some way to rid myself of Lucy......But if Eleanor turns me away. If she despises me, the enga-engaged man who kissed her this evening, then......I shall remain Lucy's forever, and I will inform the-the world of our engagement, no longer keeping o-our.....affec-affections secret. I-........I will tell her.
Chapter Fourteen
Breakfast was unusually silent, though it was a lovely day outside. Margaret was extremely tired for some unknown reason, though Edward suspected she had spent a night in her tree house by the twig that was still stuck in her mop of golden curls. Eleanor looked.....nervous. As well she had right to be....Edward hated being the cause of it. Miss Marianne was moody as always, and only slightly picking at her egg. Mrs. Dashwood acted as if something were bothering her, and Fanny looked like a cat with a canary in it's mouth. Edward was on edge, having slept very little, and not liking the conclusion that he had come to.
"Edward," He dropped his fork as Fanny unexpectedly broke the silence. "Mother wishes you to return to London today for the season. She is quite desolate without you, and is almost furious at your neglect as the eldest son."
"T-Today?"
"Well, yes! You can have no plans, as all you have been doing here anyway is lying about and playing with Miss Margaret. I dare say she will get along without your company as well as Miss Dashwood might."
Fanny was referring to Eleanor, and he caught her full meaning. He shot her an unhappy glance.
"I will have Betsy pack your trunks this morning, and you can leave after noon meal."
"If it must be done."
The look on Fanny's face said everything. It must be done; it would be done, and it had nothing to do with Mrs. Ferrars.
"I will leave after luncheon so that I might arrive early by 'morrow."
"You will be quite without company, Mrs. Dashwood," the elder informed her. "We too, must away very soon. We have finally found a new home."
"A-A new home?" Edward asked in astonishment.
"A distant cousin has offered his services to us, and we will be occupying Barton Cottage on his estate."
"B-But...!"
"You will come and visit us, won't you, Edward?"
"Mr. Ferrars, you will always be welcome in our home."
"I would be d-delighted. I will come as soon as permissible."
"Do you promise?" Margaret asked hopefully.
"I promise."
"M-Miss Elean-nor?" Edward was no longer sure how to address her.
"Good day, Mr. Ferrars."
Edward had found her shortly after breakfast, after he had mustered his courage. They were in the stables by Cyrus' stall.
"Madam, there.........there is something of great import of which I must tell you....." There was a long pause before Eleanor gave him a reassuring nod, and a questioning glance. "A-About my....my, uh...tutelage....I'm not aware if you know.....My professor was a, ah, one, Mr. Pratt." Did she comprehend?
"Pratt," Eleanor repeated, encouraging him to go on.
"Yes, I ah...I spent quite.....quite a few yea-"
"Edward!" a shrill voice shrieked. "Edward!"
He turned at the sound of his name, and saw Fanny running down the hill to the stables.
"Edward! It is mother! She needs you desperately! You must away at once!" Fanny gasped.
"At o-once? I'm leaving this afternoon as it is, c-can it not wait?"
"No! You must go immediately! She is quite frantic! Immediately! Time is of the utmost importance!"
Edward turned to Eleanor, knowing his fate to be sealed, and hers as well. He might never see her again. Edward searched Eleanor's brown eyes. They trusted him. They told him to go. She would wait.
"I....I must go..." he said regretfully, taking her delicate hands in both of his.
"Good-bye..." she whispered, gently giving them a squeeze.
He raised her hands to his lips, giving them a soft kiss. "Good-bye." His eyes never left hers as he did this. Fanny, who had run half way back to the house was now standing on top of the hill, calling his name.
She loves me! The realization, of course, could have come at a better moment, but Edward had none to spare.
"I will be right along, Fanny!" he yelled, looking over his shoulder. "Eleanor...I...I..." he couldn't say it. He wasn't able to get the words out. He glanced behind his shoulder again, seeking out Fanny. She was no where to be seen.....Safe! He grasped her hands more tightly, and laced their fingers so that they were palm to palm, holding them against his heart. He swiftly took a small step towards her, narrowing the small distance between them greatly. He leaned forward, gently caressing her lips with his. It was of short duration, but not hurried. "Good-bye, Eleanor."
Edward turned towards the door, as a small gasp escaped her lips. Their love was forced to remain unspoken....for now....He glanced over his shoulder at her beautiful form. He paused. I am a fool! I should stay! Why should I leave her?....Mother....I had quite forgotten about her......
Thinking of that, he summoned up all the strength he had in himself and forced his feet to hurry up the hill, though he did not will them. Edward glanced back at her periodically, trying to memorize her standing there. She was watching him ascend the hill, leaning against the door of the barn, holding her shawl close about her, a whisps of hair blown across her forehead. At the top of the hill, Edward came to a complete stop and just looked at her for a moment. He could feel his heart start to run back to her, but his feet turned in the opposite direction. Giving a small wave of farewell, he entered the house.
Chapter Fifteen
Edward stopped in his tracks on his way to the door. Margaret? He peeked through the crack in the open library door.
"Fanny will never use it, she doesn't even like the library! Mr. Dashwood will never use it, and they will never have children! Why can I not take my atlas?"
"Margaret! You should not wish such things upon your brother!" Mrs. Dashwood said sharply.
"He's not my brother, he's father's son! You're not his mother!"
"Margaret! The book belongs to the Dashwoods now. Not us."
"We are Dashwoods! It is not fair!"
Feet stomped across the floor towards the door, and Edward ducked into a nearby doorway as to stay hidden. They had already said their good-byes. Margaret ran up the stairs, and a few moments later, a weeping Mrs. Dashwood followed. After she was out of sight, Edward entered the library and looked around. He spied the object he was looking for lying open on the floor near the table Margaret had been hiding under when he first met her. He gingerly picked it up. The page was open to India, and there was a scrap of paper folded and tucked in the binding.
"Sir? Mrs. Dashwood is anxious for you to be away. The carriage is waiting in front." Betsy had knocked softly, but Edward had not heard her.
"Th-Thank you, Betsy," he said sadly, snapping the atlas closed. He followed her out the library door, and she handed him his hat and coat at the entrance.
"Madam, I thank you for everything. You have made my stay here a pleasant one."
"I declare, sir, you are a surprising one, you! You shall be greatly missed by the staff. Fanny was just about bearable with you around. We'll be lost without you, Mr. Ferrars," Betsy's cockney accent went along with her attitude, and her occasional slips of tongue. Edward was no longer surprised by them, and took them as lightly as they came.
He smiled downheartedly at her, and was about to talk when she began again. "Sir, you should 'ave asked her, ya know. She would 'ave well nigh said 'yes.'"
"Yes, Betsy. I should have....." There was a long pause before he continued. "But! Mother calls, so I must away. Give my regards to the family. Good-bye!" he tipped his hat, put the leather-bound atlas under his arm, walked out the door, and stepped into his carriage, leaving Netherfield and his heart's desire behind......
Chapter Sixteen
A mile later, Edward reopened the atlas, and again noticed the folded paper inside. He opened it, curious as to its contents, and found his own handwriting, along with his poor diagram of a ship, and a few currents and such he had sketched by Africa and Asia, that would be their route to India.
With heavy heart, he stared at the meaningless pieces of paper in his hand. Make believe. His whole trip to Norland had been lived as a dream without consequences, and was pure pretending. Now he had awakened, and was living with the aftermath of his foolish decisions.
I should never have kissed her....But I don't regret one moment I spent with her. Some dreams.....some dreams should be realities.
He spent the remainder of the voyage reminiscing the wonderful times spent at Norland. ......."Oh, yes! The Volga!" he said, smiling warmly into her eyes. "I than-"
"Whatever do you mean by this? The source of the Nile is a place at the top of Lake Victoria called Jinja, Uganda!" the curly mop of hair could stand it no longer and protruded from under the table, quickly standing up.
"Oh?" Edward faked his surprise. "I-I thank you, then Miss....?"
"Margaret Dashwood!" she said proudly, lifting her chin higher in the air and extending her hand.
"Edward Ferrars. I am very pleased to meet you."
Very different from the weeping child he held in his arms not an hour later.
"I miss Papa....!" she answered forlornly after a long pause. As she said this, she could no longer contain her tears and she began to cry. Edward could never bear to see anyone weep, and before he knew it, Margaret had climbed into his lap and was crying into his shoulder. "He b-built me m-my tree house-se!" she said between sobs. "H-He used to r-read to me every night! About soldiers a-and long voyages and t-the ocean.....a-and we used to play pirates!......Almost every day.....!.....We were going to go to India on our next sailing trip...!"
Edward patted her hair and hugged her to him, letting the fatherly instincts in him take over. He had known the girl not even an hour, and already she had won him over.............
.............."Eleanor would be furious if she knew that I had been so forward around a stranger. But you're not a stranger anymore, are you Edward?"
Edward could only shake his head 'no.'
"No, of course not! You're a dear, dear friend!" she hugged his neck again, practically strangling him, as he fought to keep his eyes from misting over.....
Edward's eyes were misted over now. Silly nymph....His thoughts soon wandered to another, seemingly distant, memory, though it was less than a month ago.
.......They fought for a few minutes, Margaret waving her sword about frantically, panicking as Edward's lightly tapped various areas she had left open. Something suddenly caught Margaret's attention and she immediately stopped what she was doing to wave at a first story window. Edward peered towards the window, shading his eyes from the sun, then realized that Margaret was waving at her sister Eleanor. He felt a little ridiculous and sheepishly waved to Eleanor also, from across the lawn, grinning at her like a fool. They were not so far away though, that Edward couldn't see the gentle smile form on her lips, and the hesitant return of the greeting. Margaret grabbed her chance, and jabbed Edward in the stomach viciously with the point of her sword, knocking the wind out of him. Edward's hand automatically went to his stomach, remembering the unfair blow.
And Eleanor...Fair, sweet, beautiful, Eleanor..."I'm afraid it's not very good." She said, critiquing her own drawing as he gazed over her shoulder intently.
"I-It's won-wonderful!" he sighed in his mind at his own inability to be articulate. Just say it! he reprimanded himself. "...I love it..." Edward said.
"There you are," she said, neatly tearing the sheet from her booklet, and handing it to him.
"Th-" Say what you want to say! Stop tripping over your tongue! "Thank you, Miss Dashwood."
"I am going to my tree house to make plans for my castle!" Margaret announced, and scampered off.
"Would you care to join me for tea, Miss Dashwood?" Edward asked, taking her hand to help her up.
"I should like that. Thank you." She smiled one of her elegant yet reserved smiles and dusted off her dress.
Edward felt in his coat pocket for the now familiar piece of paper. He had kept it with him always. It was now creased, and slightly worn...he had opened it so many times, reluctant to fold it up again....but it was still Eleanor's delicate hand that had put each and every line and shadow on that paper. He would keep it forever. He unfolded it, and looked at it for a few minutes. It's a very good likeness. It's better than the one I gave Lucy....The one I gave Lucy.....Miss Lucy Steele...... He sighed, and prepared himself for a journey with a very troubled mind.
Chapter Seventeen
"Send him in!" his mothers authoritative voice carried out the door to his ears.
A moment later, McDougal returned. "You may go in, sir," he said with his Irish accent. He whispered a bit of advice as Edward stepped towards the door. "Be careful, Mr. Ferrars. She's in an 'orrid mood these days!" Edward gave a small smile, and slowly entered the room.
"Edward. You are late," she said severely, not standing up, turning her cheek to him. She was waiting to be kissed.
"Hello mother," he said not at all cheerfully, complying with her wishes. "I came as quickly as possible. Business...."
"Business, you say!" Mrs. Ferrars' head quickly turned round to look at him with eagle eyes. "Does this 'business' include that.....that peasant woman?!" she spat.
"I know none of which you speak."
"Fanny has told me everything!" she snapped. "Do not attempt to deny it!"
"I deny nothing."
A knock came at the door before Mrs. Dashwood could continue.
"Madam? A Miss Harrison and Mrs. Lenn to see you."
"Oh, yes! Send the dear girls in!" she cooed.
Miss Harrison and Mrs. Lenn entered the room moments later, and curtsied to their hostess, who stood and curtsied as well, while Edward bowed, still standing near the window, though they had taken no notice of him as of yet.
"Mrs. Ferrars! I hope you are in better health?" Mrs. Lenn extended her hand to Mrs. Ferrars, to help her back into her chair.
"We were so terribly worried when we found you were ill!" Miss Harrison arranged her back pillow for her.
"I am as well as can be expected, my dears. I wish you to meet my eldest and cherished son, Mr. Edward Ferrars. The precious boy that he is, he came here from his sister's home to make sure I was properly cared for."
"Mr. Ferrars!" Miss Harrison exclaimed, casting a sly, silly glance at Mrs. Lenn as they both giggled. "We did not expect to see you again so soon! How fair your sister, Mrs. Dashwood, and her daughters?"
"Th-They were all in the b-best of health when last I saw them, M-Miss Harrison. It is a pleasure to encounter Mrs. Lenn and y-yourself so soon since last we met. H-How is your father?"
"He was very well when I left him at Abbey Wood not a fortnight ago, sir."
"Mrs. Lenn, Miss Harrison, will you not sit? It has been so very seldom of late that I have such beloved company."
"Oh, yes! Certainly!" Mrs. Lenn quickly sat upon the ottoman. "We have neglected you so, poor dear! We must stop by and visit more often to atone!"
"Edward!" Mrs. Dashwood summoned. "Do sit!" Her voice was commanding, though dripping with false adoration. Edward sat himself at the far edge of the circle of chairs, staying out of the conversation as much as possible.
His mind began to wander, and mentally, he was miles away in Norland's stables....With Eleanor.....This time Fanny did not interrupt....Edward successfully proposed. His words came out clearly, and with feeling. Not once did he stutter...Eleanor's eyes were sparkling, and the gold in her eyes danced. She clasped her hands by her heart, then threw her arms around him, hugging him tightly. Edward slowly pushed her away. She was crying.....He leaned forward to kiss away her tears, slowly making his way to her li-
"Mr. Ferrars? Mr. Ferrars!"
"Pardon me, what?" Edward had been inattentive, and was startled back to reality by Miss Harrison's voice.
"I said that we were all curious as to where you were off to that day at Norland. By your countenance, we would have guessed that something was terribly amiss!"
"Oh! N-No, nothing, really. I was o-overseeing some of my brother-in-law's d-duties in his absence. I needed to....to check up on a c-colt that was born the day before."
"Oh! I had not known! Really, Mr. Ferrars, you must tell us these things! Do they intend to sell? Father's birthday is coming up, and he mentioned wanting a new horse."
Edward was not listening, he had immediately began daydreaming again, but was unfortunately unable to conjure up the same image.
"Mr. Ferrars!"
"Oh! I, uh....I beg your pardon yet again, Miss Harrison, I believe t-traveling has began taking it's effect on me," he gave a fake yawn. "If you'll excuse m-me, I believe I shall retire." Edward stood up quickly and bowed to the ladies present. "Good e'en, Mrs. Lenn, Miss Harrison. Good night, mother."
I have to see her! I have not been away three days, and she is haunting my thoughts. I must make my daydream a reality. I shall journey to Norland and properly ask for her hand.......after telling her about Lucy..... Ascending the stairs to his bedchamber, he had a stroke of brilliance. Once inside, he rang for McDougal.
"Sir?"
"McDougal. I wish to em-employ a carpenter. F-find me the best one in all of London." Edward rubbed his brow, and thought about exactly what he wanted to say so that it would come out correctly. "I will visit him on the 'morrow at half past eleven. Inform him of my coming, and have my carriage waiting."
"Sir?!"
"McDougal, this is of the utmost importance. I ask that you tell no one, especially Mrs. Ferrars. You may go now."
"Aye, sir...!" McDougal cast his master a doubting glance, and exited the room.
Once the door had completely closed, Edward sat at his desk and tried accomplish a rough drawing of what he wanted the carpenter to make. He glanced at the atlas, estimating it's size. 2 ft X 1 ft X 3 in.
Chapter Eighteen
"Yes, but I don't want the edges to be sharp.... or rounded for that matter. Perhaps... Could you do this?" Edward demonstrated with a piece of parchment exactly what he wanted the mahogany box to look like.
"Yes, sir. I can do that."
"Good. How long will it take?"
"Ohhh...Business is pretty backed up nowadays; three weeks... maybe even a month," the carpenter said, scratching the back of his neck.
A month? Can I survive that long? I suppose I will have to... McDougal said this man was the best... "All right... I will give you twenty pounds now, for expediency. If you are able to get it done sooner, I will double the payment due. Inform me when it is finished. Here is my card." Edward tipped his hat and exited the shop. There! That wasn't so hard! I even got out all the words that I intended...
"Hello, Robert..."
"Edward. It has been awhile. Mother says you've employed your time poorly," came the voice of Robert James Ferrars, an absolute fop aged two and twenty.
"If spending some of the b-best weeks of my l-life in grand company is a waste of time, then yes, I have spent it badly."
"Yes, well, it was merely a civility; I did not expect an answer. I recently purchased a new pocket watch, and I've bought a new barouche. Would you like to view it?"
"The barouche?" Edward had been inattentive.
"No! The demmed pocket watch!"
"Oh... yes, of course, Robert."
Robert reached into his waistcoat pocket and revealed a large, grotesque looking watch of silver, ivory, and gold, lined with pearl. It was extremely tawdry, but Edward's younger brother seemed to be incredibly proud of it. "See where I've had them place the family emblem on the outside?"
"Robert..." Edward said slowly. "...Th-That's not our family crest..."
"Does it make a demmed difference? No one will acknowledge that excepting you. Mother said it looked very smart indeed, and that we might even change our crest to this."
"Absolutely not...!"
"Don't be drab Edward. Look, here's the best part..." he touched the spring that opened the vile thing. "An inscription! Now, isn't that marvelous? My own sheer genius, too, good fellow!"
"A-An inscription? To yourself?" Edward coughed slightly, trying to hide his emotions.
"Naturally! What else?"
Edward glanced at the writing before snapping the watch shut.
To a shrewd, debonair man, whom I will eternally admire.
He disgustedly handed it back to his brother and began to take his leave.
"You, Edward, are a demmed fool!"
Edward turned back with some anger. Robert's back was to him. "What did you say?"
"I said you're a fool! Falling in love with a peasant girl! A beggar, really, living off of our very own sister, Fanny!" His tone was laughing, scoffing at his brother's stupidity.
"Robert Ferrars, I warn you to never utter such lies again, if you value your life." Edward's voice was low and threatening. He was not by nature a violent man, and Robert knew it.
"Yes, Edward, of course... And I am the Prince Regent!" He waved his arms about in the air. "Hail me! Hail me!" His mocking wore on Edward's last nerve.
Edward stormed out of the room, and Robert laughed in his wake. He truly enjoyed provoking his brother, no matter how cruelly.
Chapter Nineteen
Edward gazed out at the rain, pouring down on London town. Why is England so blastedly full of rain? He saw servants and livery scampering to and fro, stopping under every entranceway in order to stay as dry as possible, though they had to be soaked through. A lone carriage occasionally went clattering down the road at top speed with a poor, drenched coachman huddled under his cloak, fearing death of pneumonia. Edward was still frustrated. He had been home hardly a week. Six days, to be precise, and yet he could barely contain his desire to leave again. To escape. I am a fool. Everything Robert said was right. The Dashwoods were living off Fanny and John.... But that was not their fault... oh, the mistakes I've made, mistakes I need to correct. Betsy said that Eleanor would have said yes. Betsy is their most loyal servant... Perhaps I should forget my previous plan; perhaps I should write Lucy and break off the engagement entirely. No... When the atlas' box is finished, I will personally deliver it, and ascertain Eleanor's affections then. If... if I find them to be as I wish, I will tell her of Lucy, and beg her to forgive me. If she will not have me, I may still fall back into a... a... Oh, admit it, Edward. He sighed aloud. You will use Lucy as a sad replacement for Eleanor and live the rest of your life in a loveless marriage.
Eleven days later...
"Sir?"
"Come in, McDougal."
"This came for ye, sir."
"Oh... Th-Thank you..." Edward took the slip of paper from McDougal and studied the outside. It was smudged with soot, and addressed in a man's poorly penned handwriting. Once opened, Edward realized the obvious--it was from the carpenter; the box was ready.
It was raining yet again, but Edward ordered a coach and threw on his greatcoat nonetheless. He could not wait to see the finished product. True, it was only a box, but this box was his main excuse to see Eleanor again.
"It's perfect..." he ran his hand over the smooth mahogany, felt the brass hinges, and traced the inscriptions. On the outside it read 1789 World Atlas. On the inside he had had the carpenter inscribe To Captain Margaret, Truly glad to see this returned to its rightful owner. Awaiting our journey to India at your beckon call. First Mate Edward Ferrars, E.G.F.
Edward handed the carpenter a small bag of coins; he knew not how much money was in the small purse, but he knew that it was more than enough.
"Thank ye kindly, sir!" The carpenter called after him, biting one of the coins to be sure of its value.
The next day...
"Edward, you have been here just over a fortnight after staying a month with your sister. I simply can not spare you."
"Mother, y-you have no employment for me here, so I feel no need to stay. I have business in Bath that I-I must attend to."
"Is that what you want?" Mrs. Ferrars snapped. "Employment?! You could have had that long ago, but you, Edward Garret Ferrars, refused to enter the military! Granted, first sons are in general not the ones who seek occupation, but if you wished to stay busy, you could have by all means had a noble profession!"
"Mother, you know I wan-"
"The clergy is what you want! An unfit profession for an unfit man! I do not see why you do not enjoy the time the good Lord has given you, as your brother Robert does." Mrs. Ferrars suddenly switched tactics. She began again in motherly tones. "Edward.... you are such a handsome man..." she sighed sadly, and even ventured to pet his clean-shaven cheek with her fingers. "I will even go so far as to say you are almost as good looking as Robert... You could please so many young ladies, and be at the height of society... Why do you not wish this for yourself? You could do so much. Why limit yourself? If it is employment you seek, I shall find something for you to do about here. I'm sure there are documents and bills lying about this town house that need your attention."
Edward took his mother's hand firmly in his own two. "No, mother. I must away." He rose from the footstool he had been sitting on at her feet.
"Then will you not delay your journey?" she called, almost frantically, as she refused to let go of his hand. "Just a fortnight?" Her tone returned to its normal, bossy nature, and she released his hand quickly. "Surely you can spare a fortnight more for your mother."
Studying his mother closely, Edward realized she must know something. Whether she was aware of his true destination or not remained to be seen. He ran a hand through his fine, chestnut hair, and contemplated his options. He did not have many. "Yes, mother," he finally answered. "You are right; one fortnight will not delay my work by much. I will stay." He took his leave and prepared to go for a walk. Two more weeks parted from Eleanor? I promised to call within a fortnight; my absence is no doubt regarded as ill mannered, even now. Two weeks... two more weeks... What am I to do to pass the time?
Chapter Twenty
"By George! It is you! Edward! Edward Ferrars, old chap!"
Edward started at the sound of his name, and turned to see his old friend from days when they both studied under Mr. Pratt. "Gregory Drakely!" he exclaimed, reaching out to take his hand. In that one simple act, his countenance changed considerably from gloomy to gladdened. "How are you, Gregory? How long has it been?"
"Oh, I'm fine Edward, five years, eh? Are you on a mission, or do you have time to stop by the next tavern we see, and have a drink with an old friend?"
"My time is yours, Drakely."
Once seated inside the Red Lion, Gregory struck up conversation. After twenty minutes of reminiscing, Drakely turned the conversation in a different direction. "So, Edward! What have you been about these last years? Married? Children?"
"N-No, thank Heaven, not yet! If it were up to my family I would have married long ago, and had se-seven children by now!" He grimaced, remembering Fanny's lecture at Norland. "What of you? Last I heard you were courting some young girl out of her inheritance."
"Courting a-!" Gregory pretended to be astonished, then laughed. "Yes, I heard that rumor, too. And was my wife surprised! She would have put me in the dog house, had I not had that kind of talk put to rest!"
"So you are married."
"Yes, but not to the girl you mentioned. I think you've met my wife on one occasion or another--Anna Marie Kunz?" Mr. Drakely took in Edward's shake of the head, and continued on. "Ah, it is of no consequence. But come, come, now Edward!" he exclaimed, and Edward could feel Gregory turning the tables. "The years are passing you by!" Gregory took a sip of his drink and continued on in a lower voice. "And whatever happened to that blasted female you were engaged to? Laura? Lavinia?" Gregory was the only other soul on earth who knew of Edward's engagement, and the information had been forced out of Edward.
"Who, Lucy?" he hunched farther over his drink. "I'd rather not discuss that here."
"What'd she do, old fool? Break your heart?"
"No, no...! I-....If you must know....Ohh...I may tell you at a later time....now is.....not the best time...."
Gregory nodded, and suggested that if Edward had no plans for the next day, he would come to luncheon at his town house, stay for a game or two of billiards, and remain on into the night for a small dinner party.
After Edward agreed most readily, Gregory also mentioned that his brother and Mrs. Ferrars were also welcome. To this, Edward hastily made their excuses, knowing that his mother and brother would much rather be dining with Sir Winston Marlow, and Edward would much rather have them there, also.
After saying their adieus and parting, Edward strolled back to the townhouse only to find Mrs. Ferrars and Robert gone, no doubt shopping for new muslin. Edward made use of his freedom, and sat down in the study to read Cowper in silence, something Mrs. Ferrars rarely allowed to happen. Fortunately or unfortunately, he could not decided, he happened across "The Castaway," the same poem Marianne Dashwood requested that he read that night at Norland. Thinking back, Edward was still embarrassed about his performance. I was never good at reading aloud, and I have not the passion for poetry Miss Marianne has. Or, if I have, it is all internal. Naturally, these thoughts lead to Eleanor, something he truly couldn't consider bad, but it brought him no good.
Chapter Twenty-One
Promptly at half past eleven, Edward exited the town house, and headed towards Grovsner's Square.
"May I help you, sir?" An elderly, uppity butler gravely opened the door to Drakely's home.
Edward handed the old man his card and said, "I-I am Edward F-Ferrars, here at the invitation of-"
"Right this way, sir." The butler interrupted, and led Edward to the parlor.
"Edward Ferrars! Glad you made it!" Gregory stepped forward to shake Edward's hand and clap him on the back. "Edward, I'd like you to meet my wife, Mrs. Anna Drakely."
They bowed, and Mrs. Drakely spoke. "We are very glad you could come, Mr. Ferrars," she said warmly, extending her hand. Her eyes were glassy blue, she had pale, golden hair, and delicate features.
"The pl-pleasure is mine, I assure you."
"Luncheon should be in about twenty minutes, if you'll sit and chat a moment," Mr. Drakely invited.
Two hours later, Edward and Mr. Drakely were finishing up a little business with Mr. Drakely's estate, and were heading towards a local dog breeder.
"Yes, I need a new pointer for this season. Anna has made a pet of Locks, I'm afraid, and he has no pure offspring."
After those affairs were settled, Drakely arranged to pick up the dog on his way out of town after the season, and they stopped by the black smiths to have a new shoe put on, they finally headed back to the Drakely town house.
"So....Edward....." Gregory said, once more sharpening his cue stick and shooting. "Why don't you tell me about.....Lucy." There was a long pause while Edward took his shot and remained silent. "I can see it has been bothering you, old man," Drakely said softly. "Why not just come out with it and have done?"
"I wish that it were that simple." Edward proceeded to tell all about Lucy in the past six years, and Eleanor, in the past six weeks. "And so you see, I am unsure of what Eleanor feels, though I do love her, and I am not in love with Lucy, who is in love with me."
"It would appear you have gotten yourself into a blasted bit of trouble, wouldn't it? Why have you not gone to Eleanor yet to find out her feelings?"
"Well....Partly because of...of my mother," Edward sighed and sat down in a near by chair, putting his head in his hands.
"And the other part?" Gregory asked sternly.
".....My own cowardice," he admitted, not looking up. "I do not want to be rejected."
"She would be a fool to turn down a wealthy eldest son."
Edward's head jerked up. "I do not want her to marry me because I am a first son, I want her to marry me because she loves me." He stood up and started pacing the room. "Is love such an uncommon thing these days?" He paced to the left. "Is it so selfish to want to marry for love?" And to the right. "Can not two people meet and fall in love?" Left. "Why is this such a...a...a...an impossible thing?" Right. "Is it really so unreasonable?" He finally stood still in front of Gregory and demanded, "Do you not love Mrs. Anna Drakely?"
"With all my heart and soul," Drakely replied seriously, leaning against the cue stick.
"Then help me....!" Edward cried, flopping down in the chair and holding his head again.
"All right.....I'll find out all I can. Dashwood, right? Eleanor?"
Edward peeked through his fingers and sighed through his upper lip, causing his hair to ruffle. "Yes. Eleanor Dashwood. They are residing in Barton Cottage."
"I shall see what can be done."
"Thank you..." Edward said hoarsely.
Chapter Twenty-Two
One week later....
"H-hello, Albert. I'm here to see Mr. Drakely again."
"I believe he is in the parlor awaiting you, Mr. Ferrars."
"T-thank you." Edward turned left into the spacious room.
He had called at Gregory's home every day the past week, and knew his way around rather well. Drakely has said that he would call for Edward when he had news, none-the-less, he had been unable to stay away. At ten o'clock that morning Edward had received a scribbled message that told him to come down as soon as he had time. Thirty minutes later, Edward was ready to go. Unfortunately, his mother had been successful in delaying him another hour and a half. It was high noon by the time Edward had finally escaped, and now he was heading towards Gregory's parlor door awaiting the few words that would decide his future.
Edward burst through the door unannounced. "What news?" he demanded.
"Albert, please set another place for luncheon," Gregory calmly told his butler. Once Albert had retreated from the room, Gregory squared his shoulders and slowly questioned Edward. "Do you love her?"
"Yes, of course! How can you doubt that? Is this what you called me here for?" Edward was aghast.
"Edward!" Gregory said sharply, slamming the door to the hall. "There is a difference between love and like. Fancy and affection. I want you to decide here and now! I will ask my question once more. Do you love her?"
".....Yes.....As surely as I have a heart or a soul, I do love Eleanor Dashwood."
"Very well." Gregory wiped the back of his hand over his mouth thoughtfully, eyeing Edward. "Sit down, Edward," he commanded. "Bear in mind that these sources are not extremely established. Anna's second cousin's friend is a great friend of Mrs. Jennings' personal maid. Mrs. Jennings is the mistress of Barton Park, the estate that the Dashwood cottage is on."
"You are too cruel, friend. I care not of your sources. I must know what knowledge you have of Eleanor."
"Very well. Sit down." Gregory sat comfortable on the ottoman, while Edward perched on the edge of the chair nearest it. "Edward, according to my cousin's friend, Miss Dashwood is not yet engaged," as Gregory said this, Edward breathed a sigh of relief. "But she is very much in the company of a certain Colonel Brandon, and there is rumored to be an upcoming attachment." Edward's head miraculously found it's way into his hands again. "I am sorry, old bloke. Maybe she tired of waiting. Perhaps she had given you up for lost."
"No.....If Eleanor truly loved, she would wait 'til the earth's end. It is in her nature. My sentiments must never have been returned. I thank you for your help, Gregory. I have business I must attend to before the day is over." With that, Edward rose and left the Drakely townhouse.
On returning to his mother's home, he retrieved the sacred atlas in its box and sat at his desk to write a small note of apology. He tried not to sound bitter, but the correct words to use evaded him. After several rough drafts, he finally produced what he thought was enough of a mask to conceal his broken heart.
Dear Mrs. Dashwood, Miss Dashwood,
Miss Marianne, and Captain Margaret,It gives me great pleasure to restore this atlas to its rightful owner.
Alas, business in London does not permit me to accompany it,
although this is more likely to hurt me far more than it hurts you.
For the present my memories of your kindness must be enough to sustain me.I remain always your devoted servant --
E. G. Ferrars
There....That should suffice....I do not sound ungrateful, I believe... Edward closed his eyes and allowed his head to fall to the desk, and he was suddenly extremely tired, but he forced himself to rise. He would send the parcel by the next post. The nights of worry would be over, but the nights of regret were just beginning.
Chapter Twenty-Three
My dearest Edward,
Oh, my love, how I long for you! I look at your picture each day to remind me of my dearest, sweetest Edward.
It has been long since I last had a letter from you. Why have you not written? Do not be cross with me, my darling! I would despair if I thought I had fallen from your graces! I am confidant that your business in London is the cause of your silence, and so I shall not be disheartened.
I am journeying from my good mother and father's to stay with a long lost distant cousin by the maiden name of Charlotte Jennings. I hope to make a good impression. Her mother gives very high praise to their new tenants at Barton Park. I believe them to be Dashwoods.
Mrs. Jennings says that the eldest daughter, by the name of Eleanor, is very genteel and mild, with adequate beauty. The second daughter is wild, romantic, and an exceptionally lovely young lady, who is also an excellent musician! So much praise for one woman I would not have expected. As for the youngest, I hear she is head strong and selfish, though a pretty enough girl when need be. I hope they provide me some amusement, for I find my cousin Charlotte to be a very agitated woman.
Were you not at Norland a short while ago? The Dashwoods have only recently moved to Barton Cottage, so I was wondering perhaps if you had met them during your stay. It would appear they are relatives of yours! It took me many an hour to decipher all, but here is the line of genealogy. Your sister is married to Mr. John Dashwood, who is the son of Mr. Dashwood, and the stepson of the new Mrs. Dashwood. Apparently, Mr. Dashwood married twice in his life time, the second being after you sister's mother-in-law passed on. This would make the Dashwoods your relatives by marriage! The next level is that Mrs. Dashwood's distant cousin is Sir John Middleton, the owner of Barton Park, and his mother in law is my very own aunt, Mrs. Jennings! My dearest Edward, I knew we were connected! I could feel it from the very moment I met you, and I have just given you the proof. However distant we may be, we share the same blood, and that will always comfort me, when I am not able to look upon you, and kiss your handsome cheek.
I depart now, my love, having crossed these two pages more than once.
I am eternally yours,
Lucy Y. Steele
Post Script: Oh my love! How I long to sign Lucy Ferrars as my name! Does not that sound fine? Mrs. Lucy Ferrars, wife of the distinguished Mr. Edward Ferrars.
Dear Miss St
Dear Lu
Dear Miss Lucy Steele,
I apologize for my tardiness in writing you, but you are quite right, business in London has kept me fully occupied.
I did have the pleasure of meeting the Dashwoods' on numerous occasions during my stay at Norland. Mrs. Dashwood is the best of women, and very kind, though her second daughter bears resemblance of what she must have been like when younger. I must correct you in your thoughts of the youngest, Margaret Dashwood. I found her to be an enchanting child, not at all common looking, and not in the least selfish. Your knowledge of Miss Marianne is generally correct as well. She is a romantic young girl with her head in the clouds, though she means well. I could not encourage you more to seek out an acquaintance with Miss Dashwood. I found her to be a caring and intelligent young woman of great refinement.
I hope that your stay at Barton is a happy one, I know not of Mrs. Jennings' character, nor that of her daughter's. The Dashwoods' are a great people and you shall find solace in them if your cousins prove too trying.
I was unaware of our relation until this point. Though we are only connected by marriage, if it brings you comfort, I am happy for it.
I remain ever yours,
E. G. Ferrars
I did not sound affected...I successfully sounded like a friend and nothing more to El- Miss Dashwood. I am nothing more to Miss Dashwood. Miss Dashwood is a dear friend....I am losing my heart alone, and therefore, I have nothing to regret....I may now look on the Dashwoods as good friends, and always be glad of their company, if we should ever meet again.
Continued In Next Section