I found myself interested in making his acquaintance and seeing what manner of man he was.

‘And who do you think we have invited to stay with us?’ went on Sir John.

‘I cannot imagine,’ I replied.

‘The Misses Steele! Delightful girls, eh, Mary?’

‘Indeed, charming girls,’ said Mary.

I was astonished to find anyone could think them charming, but the reason soon became clear: the Misses Steele had made themselves useful at Barton, where they had doted on the children and flattered Mary, and thus had become indispensable.



Tuesday 14 February

I dined with the John Dashwoods tonight, and as soon as I walked into the drawing room, I saw Marianne! It was an unexpected pleasure, for I had not expected to see her there. She smiled when she saw me, and greeted me kindly, but she was otherwise pale and listless. A moment’s reflection, however, showed me that, so soon after Willoughby’s marriage, it was only to be expected.

I accepted her invitation to sit beside her, and I talked to her of music because I thought it would amuse her. I cannot say that I was altogether successful, but at least I gave a new turn to her thoughts, which, in that company, was a good in itself.

Mr John Dashwood made a favourable impression on me to begin with because he had a look of the Misses Dashwood about the eyes, but it soon became apparent that there the resemblance ended, for he had none of their goodness or intelligence.

His wife was very elegant, but in nature she was limited and selfish.

His mother-in-law, Mrs Ferrars, was a proud woman with an ill-natured aspect. For some reason she seemed to have taken a dislike to Miss Dashwood, and from time to time she favoured her with a sour look. Quite why she did not like Miss Dashwood I could not imagine; unless it was that Miss Dashwood, by her breeding, intelligence and common sense, showed Mrs Ferrars to be deficient in all three.

The Misses Steele added their own brand of silliness to the party, and Sir John, Mary and Mrs Jennings made up the rest.

Dinner was announced, and we went into the dining room, where I found myself disgusted by the opulence on display, for, in the midst of so much plenty, Dashwood had spared nothing for his sisters; they were not in London at his invitation but through the kindness of Mrs Jennings, and they were sitting at his table in old dresses.

I tried to tempt Marianne to eat, but she did nothing more than toy with the food on her plate, and she sat still and silent until the ladies withdrew. The gentlemen soon followed, and I was about to go and sit next to Marianne when her brother decided to show me some screens that Miss Dashwood had painted.

‘These are done by my eldest sister,’ he said, ‘and you, as a man of taste, will, I dare say, be pleased with them. I do not know whether you ever happened to see any of her performances before, but she is in general reckoned to draw extremely well.’

He might as well have said, ‘Will you not admire my sister, Elinor, Brandon? For she is exceedingly accomplished, and furthermore, she would make you an excellent wife.’

I disliked his attitude, but I praised the screens nevertheless, for they were very well done, and I am very fond of Miss Dashwood.

Mrs Ferrars, piqued by my praise, requested to look at them, but when she had examined them, she dismissed them with a ‘Hum, very pretty,’ and proceeded to say how well Miss Morton painted; Miss Morton being the wife she had chosen for her eldest son, Edward.

I turned away from her in disgust, but a moment later I was pleased that she had spoken, for Marianne was roused from her thoughts by the slight to her sister, and springing up, she took the screens into her own hands.

‘This is admiration of a very particular kind!’ she said. ‘What is Miss Morton to us? Who knows or who cares for her? It is Elinor of whom we think and speak.’ She looked at the screens and admired them herself as they ought to be admired, saying, ‘Look at the workmanship! The taste and the artistry! See how the colours complement each other. This is fine workmanship indeed.’

I loved her for her affectionate heart, and I was overjoyed to see a spark in her eye and some colour in her cheek.

But Mrs Ferrars was not to be outdone, and Marianne, in her weakened state, was no match for her. Having done all in her power to defend her sister, she moved over to her chair, and when Mrs Ferrars renewed her attack, she put one arm round her sister’s neck and one cheek close to hers, saying in a low but eager voice, ‘Dear, dear Elinor, don’t mind them. Don’t let them make you unhappy.’

I was overcome with sympathy for her tender heart. I stood up, oblivious of the company, and went over to her, for her spirits were quite overcome; and in another moment she had hidden her face on her sister’s shoulder and burst into tears.

‘Ah! poor dear,’ murmured Mrs Jennings, handing her some smelling salts, whilst Sir John changed his seat to one close by Lucy Steele, and gave her, in a whisper, a brief account of the whole affair.

In a few minutes, however, Marianne was recovered enough to put an end to the bustle, and I returned to my seat, only to find myself addressed by John Dashwood.

‘Poor Marianne!’ he said. ‘She is very nervous; she has not Elinor’s constitution, and one must allow that there is something very trying to a young woman who has been a beauty in the loss of her personal attractions. You would not think it perhaps, but Marianne was remarkably handsome a few months ago — quite as handsome as Elinor. Now you see it is all gone.’

I was tempted to say, ‘Marianne is the most beautiful woman of my acquaintance; and if you had any sense, you would see that I am in love with her, instead of trying to persuade me to offer for her sister,’ but the evening had had enough dramas, and so I kept my peace.

He invited me to dinner again, and though I had no desire to spend another evening in his company, I knew I would find Marianne at his house, and so I accepted.

To look at her and listen to her, and to be with her: this is my sole delight.

And, if she will allow it, to comfort her and to love her will be the purpose of my life.



Saturday 18 February

I was looking forward to dining with Mr Dashwood this evening, but to my disappointment, his sisters were not there: Marianne had a headache, and her sister had stayed behind to look after her.

His wife’s brothers were there, however, and two more dissimilar men it would be difficult to meet. Mr Robert Ferrars was a coxcomb who waxed lyrical about his new toothpick-case, before telling me that his brother was extremely gauche on account of having been educated by private tutors instead of going to school.

‘If Mama had only sent him to Westminster as well as myself, instead of sending him to Mr Pratt’s, he, too, could have been a man of fashion,’ he remarked.

Mr Edward Ferrars, far from being gauche, was a man of good sense and breeding. He was somewhat shy, it is true, but at least he did not breathe a syllable about toothpick-cases, nor did he lower himself by belittling his brother. Of Miss Morton he made no mention, and I suspect that the idea of a marriage is in his mother’s mind and not his own.

I liked him. He was not the sort of young man it would be possible to know in half an hour, or even half a month, but he had an intelligent mind, and I was sorry when our seating at dinner separated us, for, apart from Sir John, he was the only man there to whom I cared to speak.



Thursday 23 February

Mrs Palmer has had her baby, a son and heir! Mrs Jennings is delighted, and Palmer, though he says little, is evidently pleased; a fact which escapes Mrs Jennings, who cannot understand why he will say that all infants are alike, instead of saying that his son is the finest child in the world.



Saturday 25 February

I was impatient to see Miss Marianne again, but feeling I could not call too early at Mrs Jennings’s house, I called on Sir John instead. To my delight, I found the Misses Dashwood there!

‘I’m a lucky man, Brandon, to have two such pretty young ladies staying with me,’ he said heartily, his good humour making them smile. ‘We hope we will have you for some time to come: Mrs Jennings is besotted with her new grandchild and is out of the house all day, and so we have stolen her guests! Her absence is our gain, eh, Brandon?’

I murmured a reply, I know not what, for my eyes were on Marianne. I was delighted to see that she was looking brighter, and that her cheeks were not so hollow. Sir John’s company, rather than Mrs Jennings’s, was doing her good.

‘I am pleased to see you, Colonel,’ she said, coming forward with a smile.

The warmth of her greeting and the touch of her hand made my heart glow.

‘And I am pleased to see you looking so much better,’ I said.

Sir John being distracted by the children, I sat down with Marianne by the window.

‘Ah, yes, I was not very well the last time you saw me, was I? But I have recovered, and it is in no small part thanks to you. I honour you for taking my sister’s part the other evening. You were generous in your praise, and I could have listened to you for half an hour as you talked of her screens, for everything you said was true. You thought, perhaps, that I was too warm in my support of her — ’

‘Not at all,’ I said. ‘Quite the contrary, I esteemed you for your love and loyalty.’

‘Ah, yes, I might have expected as much, for you are a man who understands both of those emotions. It does me good to know that there are men such as yourself in the world, else I might be in danger of losing faith. For myself it is nothing; I will never love again; but for my sister, I want only the best: a loving husband, one who is honest and loyal and good; one who will esteem and value her, and make her happy.’