‘Willingly,’ I said.

But as I gave it to her, I was struck with the difference between her and Miss Marianne, for I suspected that her broken lace was a ruse. It would have been disdained by Miss Marianne, for if she had wanted to walk down the hill with me, she would no doubt have said so and scandalized the entire party!

We reached the picnic spot. It was sheltered from the wind, and a milder air prevailed.

Mrs Jennings gave us a knowing look as we joined her on one of the rugs, and when the picnic was over, she called me a sly one and said that Miss Marianne had better look sharp lest Miss Carey should steal her beau.

Miss Marianne, overhearing her, glanced at me, and all of a sudden I saw the disadvantages of total honesty, for, by her look, it was clear that she did not know whether to reprimand Mrs Jennings for her impertinence or laugh at her for her absurdity.

Alas for my pride! The disparity in age might not trouble Mrs Jennings, but it was obvious that it troubled Miss Marianne; indeed, that it rendered the idea of a connexion between us ridiculous in her eyes.

Perhaps, when she has grown up a little, she will not see it as such a disadvantage, for despite my protestations I find myself increasingly attracted to her. She has a vitality that has aroused my interest in life again.



Sunday 18 September

‘Well, Colonel, have you decided which one it is to be?’ asked Mrs Jennings good-naturedly this morning as we returned from church. ‘Miss Marianne or Miss Carey? ’

‘I have no intention of marrying,’ I said, to silence her.

‘Intention? Intention? Of course you have no intention, no man ever does. Mr Palmer had no intention of marrying my Charlotte until I put it to him. “Wouldn’t you like a pretty little thing like that for a wife?” I asked him, and he had to admit that he would.’

‘Ah, yes, Sir John told me Charlotte was married. I congratulate you.’

‘Never a better man was there than Mr Palmer, unless it is Sir John,’ she said with satisfaction.

I was glad to have diverted her and, the children entering the room at the moment, I was left in peace.



Tuesday 20 September

I declined to accompany Sir John on his walk this morning, for I had some letters to write, but when he returned he had something to tell.

‘I called in at the cottage on my way home,’ he said.

‘And how are the Misses Dashwood?’ asked Mrs Jennings, with a knowing glance at me. ‘Was Miss Marianne at the pianoforte, practising for the Colonel? I tease her about it often and often. “What! Are you setting your cap at him? And a good thing, too, for he is worth winning!” Ah, yes, Colonel, you are in luck there!’

‘Not a bit of it,’ said Sir John. ‘You have missed your chance, Brandon. Miss Marianne has another beau now.’

He told us that she had been out for a walk with her younger sister when it had come on to rain. Running down the hill to get home, she had fallen and sprained her ankle, and a passing gentleman had rendered her his assistance by carrying her home.

‘What a pity it didn’t happen yesterday. You were out in the rain then, Colonel. I distinctly remember you coming in from your ride with your hair all soaking wet. If you had only gone out this morning instead of writing letters, it could have been you carrying her home!’ said Mrs Jennings to me. ‘But you were too slow!’ She turned to Sir John. ‘What is his name? I must know who to tease her about the next time she dines here, for if there is one thing a young lady loves, it is being teased about her beaux!’

I thought that she had entirely misjudged Miss Marianne, and said so, but she only laughed and said, ‘Tush! Colonel, and what do you know about it? But never fear, we will find you another wife. Oh, yes, one will come along, I have no doubt of it, one even handsomer than Miss Marianne. A man of your fortune was not meant to be single.’

‘You will never guess who it was,’ said Sir John, eager to impart his news.

Mrs Jennings abandoned her teasing of me and looked at him impatiently.

‘Well?’ she said.

‘Willoughby!’ he declared, with the air of one who surprises the room.

‘Willoughby!’ she said with delight. And then said, ‘I do not recognize the name. No, I do not know him, I am sure.’

‘Perhaps not, but I do, and he is a very good fellow, I assure you. He is down here every year. A very decent shot, and there is not a bolder rider in England.’

‘Well, then!’ said Mrs Jennings. ‘A fine catch, by the sound of it.’

‘He is at that. A pleasant, good-humoured gentleman, with the nicest little black bitch of a pointer I ever saw, though the ladies could not tell me if she was out with him today.’

‘Never mind about his pointer. Tell me more about him,’ said Mrs Jennings. ‘Is he young, old, handsome, rich?’

‘Young and handsome, certainly, and a fine dancer into the bargain. I remember last Christmas, at a little hop at the Park, he danced from eight o’clock till four, without once sitting down.’

‘That is something in his favour, for I’ll wager Miss Marianne likes to dance. And does he have a house here?’

‘As to that, no,’ Sir John admitted.

‘Then what is he doing here?’

‘He is staying with Mrs Smith.’

‘Mrs Smith? The lady at Allenham Court?’ asked Mary.

‘He is some kind of relation, her heir by all accounts,’ said Sir John.

‘Her heir,’ said Mrs Jennings, impressed. ‘So he will inherit Allenham? ’

‘He will indeed, and a tidy sum besides. And that is not all,’ said Sir John. ‘He has a pretty little estate of his own in Somersetshire.’

‘Then he is very well worth catching,’ said Mrs Jennings. ‘I would like to see her well settled. You will have to look sharp, Colonel, else you will lose her!’

‘I put in a good word for Brandon, never fear,’ said Sir John, looking at me. ‘Told her you would be jealous if she did not take care. I teased her about setting her cap at you. “That is an expression which I particularly dislike,” she said!’

He laughed uproariously and I imagined Miss Marianne’s pained expression at his coarseness.

Mrs Jennings joined him, slapping her knees as she rocked back and forth.

Gradually they sobered.

‘I promised to ride over to Allenham and see Willoughby tomorrow, and invite him to dinner on Friday,’ said Sir John.

‘You had better look lively, then, Colonel, if you want her. You had better speak on Thursday!’ Mrs Jennings said.

I took no notice of her, but I could not help feeling an interest in Willoughby, all the same.



Friday 23 September

We were a small party at dinner, just ourselves, the Dashwoods and Willoughby.

He was as young and handsome as Sir John had said, but although he was charming, lively and amusing, being fond of singing and dancing, and an expert in flirtation besides, I thought little of him for I had met his kind before. I knew that he would also be shallow and selfish, caring nothing for anyone’s feelings but his own. A not uncommon type: adept at making friends but not at keeping them, easily distracted and unreliable.

Miss Marianne was, however, attracted to him, for he was, at first glance, very desirable. They spent the evening talking together with great animation. She had neither shyness nor reserve and she spoke about her thoughts and feelings with such rapturous delight that it was small wonder that he agreed with her on everything, or, if he disagreed, he did so only for the pleasure of letting her talk him round. Who would not have agreed with so much beauty?

She had only to mention a book and it was a favourite of his; or to say, rapturously, that Mozart was divine, in order to have him say that Mozart was the only composer who deserved the title of genius; or to speak slightingly of second marriages to find out that he, too, thought that second attachments were impossible.

I could not agree with her on the latter, and I was surprised to find that my feelings on the subject had changed, because, for a long time, I thought the same. But I am beginning to think that second attachments, happy second attachments, might be possible: Miss Marianne is the child of a second marriage, and her mother has nothing but good to say of her experiences.



Saturday 24 September

I cannot decide if I am grateful to Willoughby for making Miss Marianne happy or if I am jealous of him; though to be jealous of him seems absurd, when he is so much younger than I am, and when there is nothing of substance about him, and when, indeed, I am not courting Miss Marianne. He sings, he dances, he charms — because he can do nothing else. As I watched him talking to her this evening, I found myself wondering if, when the first flush of excitement has passed, he will be enough for Miss Marianne, for she is intelligent and she feels things deeply, whereas he is all surface, with nothing underneath.



Monday 26 September

Miss Marianne again spent the evening talking to Willoughby, to the exclusion of everyone else. I found myself in conversation with her sister, and before long we were talking about my experiences in the Indies.

‘I have always wanted to travel,’ she said, ‘but I have not had the opportunity to do so. Was it very different there?’

‘It could scarcely be more different,’ I said, and I proceeded to tell her all about the heat and the mosquitoes, a little about the political situation and a great deal about the bazaars, with their fine silks and jewellery.

‘And are the animals as strange as I have heard?’