Work Text:
They were visited on their first settling by almost all their relations and friends. Mrs Ferrars came to inspect the happiness which she was almost ashamed of having authorised; and even the Dashwoods were at the expense of a journey from Sussex to do them honour. Before either of these parties could arrive, however, Edward and Elinor had the happiness of welcoming her mother and younger sisters for their first stay at the parsonage, and for the avowed purpose of defending them against any objectionable behavior from their less amiable relations.
“I hope, Marianne,” said Elinor one day as they walked through the muddy November streets to the Misses’ Pooles millinery establishment in Dorchester, “That you will not feel called upon to defend me from Mrs Ferrars. I will never be ungrateful for the love you showed me at that time, even if the expression were unwarranted, but she will be a guest in our home and if she slights us we must simply respond politely and be grateful that she lives no nearer.”
Marianne pursed her lips and frowned — then, as Elinor looked at her quizzically, began to laugh. “Elinor! I was not serious. I hope I am more mistress of myself now than I was then — indeed, I am ashamed to remember how I acted so heedlessly.”
“Do not reproach yourself too much! Yours was a small fault compared to those of many others, and I cannot be too grieved at being so zealously defended. Certainly Colonel Brandon saw no fault in it, he has mentioned it once or twice.”
“Has he?” Marianne laughed again. “In that case, I must not repent of my actions so very much, for the Colonel would never approve of anything unmannerly or improper, it is not in him to act dishonourably. Did I tell you that he has lent me a Latin grammar? I have read through every French book at Barton Park for my studies and wanted a change, and I think Latin a very rational and sober language, altogether better for my mind than the frivolous things I once enjoyed.”
“Come now, Marianne, not every frivolity is an evil. Do you not still play dances on the pianoforte? And do you still rise at six every morning to begin your studies?”
“I must admit I do not, but I will try to begin again once the spring comes and the light is better.”
“And are you not coming to the Misses’ Pooles with me for a new hat?”
“Only at your insistence!”
“Yes, I insist. You have had almost no new clothes since we were in London a year ago, and even a woman who studies six hours a day need not dress like a Quakeress. I hope we shall be the best of hosts to Mrs Ferrars and John and Fanny, but I also see no reason why we should not look our best while doing so. It is hard to be insulted, but I want their pity even less. So today we shall be frivolous and indulge ourselves in new hats and trimmings for our older ones, that we may look as well and happy as we feel when they arrive.”
They were now at the door of the Misses’ Pooles and gratefully left the mud and chill of the street for the overly warm but pleasant interior of the shop. They were not the only ones who were seeking refuge there; the interior was crowded with people, half of them huddling with modistes before small mirrors and the other half huddling over the counters, and all of them chattering together like beautifully-feathered birds. Elinor smiled as she saw Marianne’s face light up at the array of ribbons and laces which could be glimpsed on the counters, and at the hats and bonnets and plumes and flowers that arrayed the shelves behind them.
“I have not trimmed a hat this twelvemonth, I believe,” said Marianne. “Partly for reasons you know, but also partly because I no longer had you there with me to advise me. Do you remember how Papa used to say that you had the eye, while I had the ear? It is quite true, I could never tell which colours looked best together or what suited me so well as you can. Poor Papa! How he must have worried for us — he knew John and Fanny too well to think they would be generous. I wish he could see us now, and know how happy and well-situated we are and what good friends we have around us.”
“I have no doubt,” said Elinor, “That he does know, and that he still loves us as much as we do him. And though Papa was the fondest of fathers, even he could not have thought my taste in colours equivalent to your taste in music. However, since you ask me to advise you, I will gladly do so.”
The two sisters plunged forward and were soon examining the rainbow of ribbons and the froth of laces with sighs of delight, their only sorrow being that they could not buy a length of everything in the shop. “Is not this lovely?” Marianne said, fingering some gold satin ribbon. “It would look beautiful on your brown chip hat, its old ribbon is becoming frayed.”
“On one of your hats it may, but I am too fair to be flattered by something so bright — it would far better suit you, you are dark enough to be ornamented and not overwhelmed by it.”
Marianne shook her head. “I am sure you are right but it is difficult for me — I see only a pretty ribbon and a pretty sister and think they would naturally suit each other. It is such a shame, is it not, that ribbons never look quite as beautiful at home as they in the shop, surrounded by all the other colours? But these are so lovely I shall like them anywhere. I do like this dark blue, it is almost purple.”
“Now that is something I would certainly choose for myself. And I like this lace exceedingly for lining a cap. Which do you think you would like for yourself?”
It was a pleasant hour, in which many hats both suitable and unsuitable were tried before a mirror, in which both Marianne and Elinor luxuriated in fretting over so inconsequential a thing as which particular lace would best suit Elinor’s new caps, and at the end of which both were well satisfied. The gold ribbon, along with many other little ornaments Elinor had insisted on getting, were now Marianne’s, along with a Joseph bonnet in crimson velvet, on whose artificial floral trimmings Marianne already had designs. Elinor herself was well contented with blue and silver ribbons, some knitted lace for her caps (for she would still be somewhat careful with her pin money, even at her most extravagant) and a slate chip hat. “Oh Elinor!” cried Marianne. “How very sober it looks, and you scolded me not to dress like a Quakeress!”
“Do not fear, Marianne,” was Elinor’s response as the assistant reached for a box to put it in. “After I have trimmed it properly, you will not think so. Oh!”
The last exclamation escaped her in spite of herself, just as a woman passed before them while walking towards the door — a woman who was the image of Sophia Willoughby. Elinor heard Marianne's faint gasp and clutched her sister’s arm, fearing she would be faint, but there was no need — her sister remained steady, and another moment revealed that the strange woman was not Mrs Willoughby after all. There was a similar fairness and mien, but that was all. The strange woman, now dwindled into an ordinary and unthreatening person, left the shop, and the sisters looked at each other and sighed simultaneously.
“It is strange,” said Marianne, as she happily received her packages from the assistant. “I felt so little, really, on seeing her, except a brief shock. Had it actually been Mrs Willoughby, I do not think I would have felt anything for her but pity. Imagine the horror of learning, too late, what dreadful secrets were being kept from one. There would be no peace, and never freedom. In a strange way, she spared me a dreadful fate.”
Elinor thought of Mr Robert Ferrars, also rich, shallow, and vain, and also, in a most unexpected and unintended fashion, her savior. He and Lucy would also be visiting, albeit not for several months. What a trial such people could be, and yet, how much happier she and her sister were for their existence! She shook her head. This was not the time to consider philosophy, but to be happy. As she and Marianne stepped back into the street, packages held in their arms and their arms shielded by their cloaks, she thought of the quiet joy of the evening to come: her mother and Margaret peacefully going over lessons, herself and Marianne transforming their hats, old and new, while Edward would insist on reading aloud. This was a life for which any number of unpleasant visitors could be endured, and she treasured it.