28/9 Sense &Sensibility-Bedtime Tales With Stephanie Poppins

When Mr. Dashwood dies, he must leave the bulk of his estate to the son of his first marriage. This leaves his second wife and their three daughters Elinor, Marianne, and Margaret in difficult circumstances. They are taken in by a kindly cousin, but their lack of fortune affects the marriageability of practical Elinor and romantic Marianne.

When Elinor forms an attachment for the wealthy Edward Ferrars his family disapproves and separates them. And though Mrs. Jennings tries to match the rich and kind Colonel Brandon to Marianne, she finds the dashing and fiery John Willoughby more to her taste.

In this episode, the truth comes out.

Transcript

Sense and Sensibility by Jane Austen Chapter 28 Nothing occurred during the next three or four days to make Eleanor regret what she had done in applying to her mother,

For Willoughby neither came nor wrote.

They were engaged about the end of that time to attend Lady Middleton to a party,

From which Mrs Jennings was kept away by the indisposition of her youngest daughter.

And for this party,

Marianne,

Seemingly equally indifferent whether she went or stayed,

Prepared without one look of hope or one expression of pleasure.

She sat by the drawing-room fire after tea,

Without once stirring from her seat,

Lost in her own thoughts and insensible of her sister's presence.

And when at last they were told that Lady Middleton waited for them at the door,

She started as if she had forgotten that anyone was expected.

They arrived in due time at the place of destination and entered a room splendidly lit up,

Quite full of company and insufferably hot.

When they had paid their tribute of politeness by curtsying to the Lady of the House,

They were permitted to mingle in the crowd.

After some time spent in saying little and doing less,

Marianne and Eleanor,

Luckily succeeding to chairs,

Placed themselves at no great distance from the table.

They had not remained in this manner long before Eleanor perceived Willoughby in earnest conversation with a very fashionable-looking young woman.

She soon caught his eye and he immediately bowed,

But without attempting to speak to her or to approach Marianne,

Though he could not but see her.

Eleanor turned involuntarily to Marianne to see whether it could be unobserved by her.

At that moment she first perceived him,

And her whole countenance glowing with sudden delight.

She would have moved towards him instantly had not her sister caught hold of her.

"'Good heavens!

' she exclaimed,

'he's there!

Why does he not look at me?

Why cannot I speak to him?

' "'Pray,

Pray be composed,

' cried Eleanor,

"'perhaps he has not observed you yet.

' At last Willoughby turned round again and regarded them.

Marianne started up and,

Pronouncing his name in a tone of affection,

Held out her hand.

He approached and,

Addressing himself rather to Eleanor than Marianne as if wishing to avoid her eye,

Inquired in a hurried manner after Mrs Dashwood.

Eleanor was unable to say a word,

But the feelings of her sister were instantly expressed.

Her face was crimsoned over,

And she exclaimed in a voice of the greatest emotion,

"'Good God,

Willoughby,

What is the meaning of this?

Have you not received my letters?

Will you not shake hands with me?

' He could not then avoid it,

But her touch seemed painful to him,

And he held her hand only for a moment.

During all this time he was evidently struggling for composure.

Eleanor watched his countenance and saw its expression becoming more tranquil.

After a moment's pause he spoke with calmness.

"'I did myself the honour of calling in Barclay Street last Tuesday,

And very much regretted I was not fortunate enough to find yourselves and Mrs Jennings at home.

' "'But have you not received my notes?

' cried Marianne in the wildest anxiety.

"'Tell me,

Willoughby,

For heaven's sake,

Tell me,

What is the matter?

' He made no reply,

His complexion changed,

And all his embarrassment returned.

But he recovered himself again,

And after saying,

"'Yes,

I had the pleasure of receiving the information of your arrival in town,

' turned hastily away with a slight bow and joined his friend.

Marianne,

Now looking dreadfully white and unable to stand,

Sank into her chair,

And Eleanor,

Expecting every moment to see her faint,

Tried to screen her from the observation of others.

"'Go to him,

Eleanor,

' Marianne cried as soon as she could speak,

"'and force him to come to me.

Tell him I must see him again.

I shall not have a moment's peace until this is explained.

Oh,

Go to him,

Eleanor!

' "'No,

My dearest Marianne,

You must wait.

This is not a place for explanations.

Wait only till tomorrow.

' With difficulty,

However,

Could Eleanor prevent Marianne from following him herself,

And to persuade her to check her agitation,

To wait at least till she might speak to him with more privacy and more effect,

Was impossible,

For Marianne continued incessantly to give way in her low voice to the misery of her feelings.

In a short time,

Eleanor saw Willoughby quit the room,

And telling Marianne he was gone,

Urged the impossibility of speaking to him again that evening as a fresh argument for her to be calm.

She instantly begged her sister to entreat Lady Middleton to take them home.

Lady Middleton,

On being informed that Marianne was unwell,

Was too polite to object for a moment to her wish of going away,

And making over her cards to a friend,

They departed as soon as the carriage could be found.

Marianne was in silent agony,

Too much oppressed even for tears,

But as Mrs Jennings was luckily not to come home,

They could go directly to their own room.

She was soon undressed and in bed,

And as she seemed to zealous of being alone,

Her sister had leisure enough for thinking over the past.

That some kind of engagement had subsisted between Willoughby and Marianne,

She could not doubt,

And that Willoughby was weary of it,

Seemed equally clear.

Nothing but a thorough change of sentiment could account for it.

Her indignation would have been still stronger than it was,

Had she not witnessed that embarrassment which seemed to speak a consciousness of his own misconduct.

Absence might have weakened his regard,

But that such a regard had formerly existed,

Eleanor could not bring herself to doubt.

As for Marianne,

On the pangs which so unhappy a meeting must already have given her,

She could not reflect without the deepest concern.

Her own situation gained in the comparison,

For while she could esteem Edward as much as ever,

However they might be divided in future,

Her mind might be always supported.

But every circumstance that could embitter such an evil,

Seemed uniting to heighten the misery of Marianne in a final separation from Willoughby.

Chapter 29 Before the housemaid had lit their fire the next day,

Marianne,

Only half-dressed,

Was kneeling against one of the window seats for the sake of all the little light she could command from it,

And writing as fast as a continual flow of tears would permit her.

In this situation,

Eleanor,

Roused from sleep by her agitation and sobs,

First perceived her,

And said in a tone of the most considerate gentleness,

Marianne,

May I ask?

No,

Eleanor,

She replied,

Ask nothing,

You will soon know all.

The sort of desperate calmness with which this was said was immediately followed by a return of the same excessive affliction.

It was some minutes before she could go on with her letter,

And the frequent bursts of grief,

Which still obliged her at intervals to withhold her pen,

Were proofs enough of her feeling how more than probable it was she was writing for the last time to Willoughby.

Eleanor paid her every quiet and unobtrusive attention in her power,

And she would have tried to soothe and tranquilise her more had not Marianne entreated her not to speak to her for the world.

The restless state of Marianne's mind not only prevented her from remaining in the room a moment after she was dressed,

But made her wander about the house till breakfast time,

Avoiding the sight of anybody.

At breakfast she neither ate nor attempted to eat anything,

And Eleanor's attention was then all employed in endeavouring to engage Mrs Jennings' notice entirely to herself.

As this was a favourite meal with Mrs Jennings,

It lasted a considerable time,

And they were just setting themselves after it round the common working table when a letter was delivered to Marianne,

Which she eagerly caught from the servant and instantly ran out of the room.

Eleanor,

Who saw it must come from Willoughby,

Felt immediately such a sickness at heart,

As made her hardly able to hold up her head,

And sat in such a general tremor,

As made her fear it impossible to escape Mrs Jennings' notice.

That good lady,

However,

Saw only that Marianne had received a letter from Willoughby.

Upon my word,

I never saw a young woman so desperately in love in all my life,

She said.

I hope from the bottom of my heart he won't keep her waiting much longer,

For it's quite grievous to see her look so ill and forlorn.

Pray,

When are they to be married?

Eleanor obliged herself to answer such an attack as this,

And therefore,

Trying to smile,

Replied.

And have you really,

Ma'am,

Talked yourself into a persuasion of my sister's being engaged to Mr Willoughby?

I must beg you will not deceive yourself any longer.

I do assure you nothing would surprise me more than to hear of their being going to be married.

For shame,

For shame,

Miss Dashwood.

How can you talk so?

Don't we all know it must be a match,

That they were overhead and ears in love with each other from the first moment they met?

It's been known all over town this ever so long.

I tell everybody of it,

And so does Charlotte.

Indeed,

Ma'am,

Said Eleanor very seriously.

You are doing a very unkind thing in spreading the report,

And you will find that you have,

Though you will not believe me now.

Mrs Jennings laughed again,

But Eleanor had not spirits to say more,

And eager at all events to know what Willoughby had written.

She hurried away to their room,

Where on opening the door,

She saw Marianne stretched on the bed,

Almost choked by grief.

One letter in her hand,

And two or three others lying by her.

Eleanor drew near,

But without saying a word,

And seating herself on the bed,

She took her hand,

Kissed her affectionately several times,

And then gave way to a burst of tears,

Which at first were scarcely less violent than Marianne's.

The latter seemed to feel all the tenderness of this behaviour,

And after some time thus spent in joint affliction,

She put all the letters into Eleanor's hands,

And then covering her face with her handkerchief,

Almost screamed with agony.

Eleanor watched by her,

Till the excess of suffering had somewhat spent itself,

Then turning eagerly to Willoughby's letter,

She read as follows.

Bond Street,

January My dear Madam,

I have just had the honour of receiving your letter.

I am much concerned to find there was anything in my behaviour last night that did not meet your approbation,

And though I am quite at a loss to discover in what point I could be so unfortunate as to offend you,

I entreat your forgiveness of what I can assure you to have been perfectly unintentional.

My esteem for your whole family is very sincere,

But if I have been so unfortunate as to give rise to a belief of more than I felt,

Or meant to express,

I shall reproach myself for not having been more guarded in my professions of that esteem.

That I should ever have meant to you more will allow to be impossible,

When you understand that my affections have been long engaged elsewhere,

And it will not be many weeks,

I believe,

Before this engagement is fulfilled.

It is with great regret I obey your commands of returning the letters which I have been honoured from you,

And the lock of hair which you so obligingly bestowed upon me.

I am,

Dear Madam,

Your most obedient humble servant,

John Willoughby.

Though aware before she began the letter that it must bring a confession of this inconstancy,

And confirm their separation forever,

Eleanor was not aware that such language could be suffered to announce it,

Nor could she have supposed Willoughby capable of departing so far from the appearance of every honourable and delicate feeling,

As to send a letter which acknowledged no breach of faith,

Denied all peculiar affection,

A letter of which every line was an insult,

And which proclaimed its writer to be deep in heart and villainy.

She read it again and again,

But every perusal only served to increase her abhorrence of the man,

And so bitter were her feelings against him,

She dared not trust herself to speak,

Lest she might wound Marianne still deeper,

By treating their disengagement as an escape from the worst of all evils,

A connection for life with an unprincipled man.

In her earnest meditations on the content of the letter,

On the depravity of that mind which could dictate it,

Eleanor forgot the immediate distress of her sister,

Forgot she had three letters on her lap yet unread,

And so entirely forgot how long she'd been in the room,

That when on hearing a carriage drive up to the door,

She went to the window to see who could be coming so unreasonably early,

And was all astonishment to perceive Mrs Jennings's chariot,

Which she knew had not been ordered until one.

Determined not to quit Marianne,

Eleanor hurried away to excuse herself from attending Mrs Jennings,

On account of her sister being indisposed.

Mrs Jennings admitted that excuse most readily,

And Eleanor,

After seeing her safe off,

Returned to Marianne,

Whom she found attempting to rise from the bed,

And whom she reached just in time to prevent her falling on the floor.

Faint and giddy she was from a long want of proper rest and food.

A glass of wine Eleanor procured for her directly,

And she was at last able to express some sense of her kindness by saying,

Poor Eleanor,

How unhappy I make you.

I do wish,

Replied Eleanor,

There were anything I could do which might be of comfort to you.

This was too much for Marianne,

Who could only exclaim in the anguish of her heart,

Oh Eleanor,

I am miserable indeed.

Exert yourself,

Dear Marianne,

Cried Eleanor,

If you would not kill yourself and all who love you.

Think of your mother,

Think of her misery while you suffer,

For her sake you must exert yourself.

I cannot,

I cannot,

Cried Marianne,

How easy for those who have no sorrow of their own to talk for exertion.

Happy Eleanor,

You cannot have an idea of what I suffer.

Do you call me happy Marianne,

Said Eleanor,

If you knew,

And can you believe me to be so while I see you so wretched?

Forgive me,

Forgive me,

Marianne threw her arms around her sister's neck.

I know you feel for me,

But you must be happy,

Edward loves you,

What can do away such happiness as that?

Many,

Many circumstances,

Said Eleanor solemnly.

No,

Cried Marianne wildly,

He loves you and only you,

You can have no grief.

I can have no pleasure while I see you in this state.

And you will never see me otherwise,

Said Marianne,

Mine is a misery which nothing can do away.

You must not talk so,

Marianne,

Much as you suffer now,

Think of what you would have suffered if the discovery of his character had been delayed to a later period.

If your engagement had been carried for months and months as it might have been before he chose to put an end to it,

Every additional day of unhappy confidence on your side would have made the blow more dreadful.

Engagement,

Cried Marianne,

There's been no engagement,

He's broken no faith with me.

But he told you that he loved you?

Yes,

No,

Never absolutely,

It was every day implied,

But never professedly declared.

Sometimes I thought it had been,

But it never was.

Yet you wrote to him?

Yes,

Could that be wrong after all that had passed?

Ellen has said no more,

And turning again to the three letters which now raised a much stronger curiosity than before,

She directly ran over the contents of all.

The first,

Which was what her sister had sent him on their arrival in town,

Was to this effect.

Barclay Street,

January.

How surprised you will be,

Willoughby,

On receiving this,

And I think you will feel something more than surprised when you know I'm in town.

An opportunity of coming thither,

Though with Mrs Jennings was a temptation we could not resist.

I wish you may receive this in time to come here tonight,

But I will not depend upon it.

At any rate,

I shall expect you tomorrow.

For the present,

Adieu.

Marianne.

Her second note,

Which had been written on the morning after the dance at the Middletons,

Was in these words.

I cannot express my disappointment in having missed you the day before yesterday,

Nor my astonishment at not having received any answer to a note which I sent you about a week ago.

Pray call again as soon as possible,

And explain the reason of my having expected this in vain.

We were last night at Lady Middletons,

Where there was a dance.

I've been told you were asked to be one of the party,

But could it be so?

We must be very much altered indeed since we parted,

If that could be the case,

And you not there.

But I will not suppose this possible,

And I hope very soon to receive your personal assurance of it being otherwise.

Marianne.

The contents of her last note to him were these.

What am I to imagine will it be by your behaviour last night?

I was prepared to meet you with a pleasure which our separation naturally produced.

I was repulsed indeed.

I have passed a wretched night,

Endeavouring to excuse a conduct which can scarcely be called less than insulting,

But though I have not been able to perform any reasonable apology for your behaviour,

I'm perfectly ready to hear your justification of it.

You have perhaps been purposely deceived in something concerning me,

Which may have lowered me in your opinion.

Tell me what it is,

And I shall be satisfied in being able to satisfy you.

It would grieve me indeed to be obliged to think ill of you,

But if I am to do it,

If I am to learn that you are not what we have hitherto believed you,

That your regard for us all was insincere,

That your behaviour to me was intended only to deceive,

Let it be told as soon as possible.

If your sentiments are no longer what they were,

You will return my notes and the lock of hair which is in your possession.

Marianne.

That such letters so full of affection and confidence could have been so answered,

Eleanor,

For Willoughby's sake,

Would have been unwilling to believe.

But her condemnation of him did not blind her to the impropriety of their having been written at all.

And she was silently grieving over the imprudence which had hazarded such unsolicited proofs of tenderness,

When Marianne,

Perceiving that she'd finished the letters,

Observed to her they contained nothing but what anyone would have written in the same situation.

I felt myself,

She added,

To be as solemnly engaged to him as if the strictest legal covenant abound us to each other.

I can believe it,

Said Eleanor,

But unfortunately he did not feel the same.

He did feel the same,

Eleanor.

I was once dear to him as my own soul could wish.

This lock of hair which now he so readily gave up was begged of me with a most earnest supplication.

Have you forgot the morning we parted to,

When he told me it might be many weeks before we meet again?

His distress!

I can never forget his distress.

For a moment or two,

Marianne could say no more.

But when this emotion had passed away,

She added in a firmer tone,

Eleanor,

I have been cruelly used,

But not by Willoughby.

Dearest Marianne,

Who but himself?

By whom can he have been instigated?

By all the world,

Rather than by his own heart.

I could rather believe every creature of my acquaintance lie together to ruin me in his opinion,

Than believe his nature capable of such cruelty.

This woman of whom he writes may have been so barbarous to belie me.

Eleanor would not contend and only replied,

Whoever may have been so detestably your enemy,

Let them be cheated of their malignant triumph,

My dear sister,

By seeing how nobly the consciousness of your own innocence and good intentions supports your spirits.

No,

No,

Cried Marianne,

Misery such as mine has no pride.

I cannot,

Who knows that I'm wretched?

But for my mother's sake and mine,

Protested Eleanor.

I would do more than for my own,

Said Marianne,

But to appear happy when I'm so miserable,

Who can require it?

Again they were both silent.

Marianne seated at the foot of the bed with her head leaning against one of its posts,

Again took up Willoughby's letter,

And after shuddering over every sentence exclaimed,

It's too much.

Willoughby,

Could this be yours?

So cruel,

Whatever he might have heard against me,

Ought he to have suspended his belief?

The lock of hair which is so obligingly bestowed on me,

That is unpardonable.

Willoughby,

Where was your heart when you wrote those words?

Eleanor,

Can he be justified?

No,

Marianne,

In no possible way.

And yet this woman,

Who is she?

Whom did I ever hear of him talk of,

The young and attractive woman among his female acquaintance?

Another pause ensued.

Marianne was greatly agitated and it ended thus.

Eleanor,

I must go home.

I must go and comfort Mama.

Can we be gone tomorrow?

It would be impossible to go tomorrow.

We owe Mrs Jennings much more than civility,

And civility of the communist kind must prevent such a hasty removal as that.

Well then,

Another day or two perhaps,

But I cannot stay here long.

I cannot stay to endure the questions,

Remarks of all these people,

The Middletons,

The Palmers.

How am I to bear their pity?

Eleanor advised her sister to lie down again,

And for a moment she did so,

But in restless pain of mind and body,

She moved from one posture to another,

Till growing more and more hysterical.

Her sister could with difficulty keep her on the bed at all.

Some lavender drops,

However,

Which she was at length persuaded to take,

Were of use,

And from that time till Mrs Jennings returned,

Marianne continued on the bed,

Quiet and motionless.

Reviews

Well, willoughby is a perfect cad, and Marianne is simply over therethe top, but it makes for interesting writing! Thank you as always for nuanced reading ❤️❤️