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Chapter Text

Evelyn

Norland Park, a large estate settled in the Sussex countryside, boasted a peaceful tranquillity much enjoyed by all its residents, or it did. Upon the death of Mr Henry Dashwood, the estate in its entirety had now passed to his only son Mr John Dashwood who has evidently grown to be a rather selfish and cold-hearted man. Evelyn wasn’t entirely sure when this change in her elder brother had occurred, certainly he had been a little self-centred on the few occasions the two halves of Mr Henry Dashwood’s family had cause to come together, but he had at least conducted himself with propriety. This propriety seemed to have been misplaced or perhaps removed by his wife Mrs Fanny Dashwood, who had just arrived with their young son and what appeared to be all the family’s belongings long before the mourning period for the late Mr Dashwood was over, a clear statement that the estate now belonged to them and that Evelyn and her family should leave at the earliest opportunity. Their abrupt arrival so soon after father’s passing and without any notice had instilled Mama with a hatred for the couple the likes of which Evelyn had never before witnessed. It was only due to Elinor, the eldest of the four Dashwood daughters, and her even temper that Mama was convinced not to leave Norland that very moment now that it had been made clear they were all little more than unwelcome houseguests.

Marianne, the second youngest of the four girls, was the most obvious with her dislike of Norland’s new owners, speaking to them only when it cannot be avoided and always with the iciest tone possible. Margaret, Evelyn’s youngest sister, had exercised her right as the youngest child to act without propriety and simply hide from not only the couple but most of Norland’s inhabitants as well. Evelyn herself endeavoured to only speak when directly spoken to, and whilst Elinor would have appreciated the help making conversation Evelyn believed she deserved credit for not reacting to Fanny’s thinly veiled jabs at her. Indeed, Evelyn was currently evading Fanny, and her constant comments about the rather disastrous time Evelyn had spent in London eighteen months ago, by looking for Margaret. Evelyn was out in the knoll of old walnut trees where the treehouse was nestled having spotted a head of golden curls hurrying out there shortly after breakfast, no doubt hoping the morning mist would hide her journey from watching eyes.

Gathering her skirts and not much caring how improper it is for a young lady to be climbing trees; Evelyn used the rope ladder to clamber her way up into Maragret’s favourite refuge. Margaret was sitting on the wooden floor restringing the small training bow their father had once given Evelyn, causing a small somewhat melancholy smile to form on Evelyn’s lips.

“We agreed you were only allowed to take the bow out when accompanied by father or myself” Evelyn said as she sidled over to sit beside her sister.

“But if I leave it inside, she’ll take it like she’s taking everything else.”

Evelyn’s heart ached as she looked around the little treehouse to see a neat pile of belongings along the opposite side. Momentarily leaving Margaret to her bow, Evelyn looked through the collection to see her own long bow along with several pieces of Marianne’s sheet music and Elinor’s watercolours. If her heart could break any more it would have at the touching sight and the notion that this was the only place Margaret felt safe enough to keep them.

“ They may have taken our home and sickness may have taken Father but we are not going anywhere” Evenlyn said as she tucked Margaret into a side hug. 

“But still you’re all probably going to get married soon and then it will just be me and Mama” the younger said as she rested her head on Evelyn’s breast.

“Well, given that my only foray into the marriage mart ended in spectacular failure, I believe you only really need to worry about Elinor and Marianne leaving. After all, unless society suddenly decides that looking like a ghost is desirable I doubt many suitors will be calling on me.” Evelyn tried for a conspiratorial tone as she said this but it clearly didn’t have the desired effect as a now teary-eyed Margaret looked up at her.

“Of course you’ll get married, you’re beautiful like Marianne and Elinor, and then you’ll run off to the other side of the world with your new husband and I’ll be left alone.” Margarets words were beginning to take on a nasal quality as she inched closer to crying.

“Well then, I promise that should I marry I will force my new husband to either allow you to come with me or to move our marital home as close to you as possible” Margaret finally let out a small giggle at that.

“How about I go and change and then we can have an archery lesson?” Evelyn suggested eliciting an enthusiastic agreement from the smaller Dashwood.

Climbing down from the treehouse, Evelyn felt her smile drop slightly as she thought about Margaret’s words. Just a couple of years ago she would have felt hopeful, perhaps even a little excited at the idea of marriage, but after her time in London the kind words of her sister fell flat. As Evelyn changed into the adapted riding habit she used when shooting she couldn’t help but indulge in some small amount of vanity. Gazing into the mirror atop her dressing table Evelyn secured her pale blonde hair in a more stable bun, tucking most of her loose curls into the style and out of her face. While her skin was fair enough to be in fashion, the combination of her pale blue eyes, light skin and hair had caused a number of the other ladies in London to refer to her as a ghost. This was sadly not the worst thing she had been called during the three awful months she spent in the capital. The worst came from those who felt that her lips were too dark in colour and altogether too red to be natural, nothing could convince them that the colour is in fact natural. That particular comment escalated into cruel comments alluding to Evelyn wearing heavy makeup much like a prostitute which thoroughly dashed any hopes she had of finding a good match. Many times Evelyn wished she possessed Elinor's quiet beauty, with her soft brown eyes, downy flaxen hair and delicate complexion. Or perhaps the brightness of Margaret, with her wild mass of golden curls and rosy cheeks. But no, Evelyn fell into a similar category as Marianne, she supposed, as both of them tended to be described as striking but even then the term seemed to sound more favourable for Marianne’s dark blue eyes and light brown ringlets as opposed to her own pale countenance.

Pulling herself from her less than pleasant musings, Evelyn made her way back towards the treehouse and her now much more cheerful sister.

-----

Shortly after Fanny’s arrival at Norland the Dashwood sisters' displeasure grew even further as the dreadful woman asked for the key to the silverware, the purpose for which Marianne surmised, was to count it. During luncheon one day the atmosphere worsened further as Fanny announced that her brother, a Mr Edward Ferrars, would be breaking his journey to London with them at Norland. The news was met with stiffening posture from the Dashwood women, Fanny broke the subsequent silence rather quickly by asking Mama if Margaret wouldn’t mind giving up her room for the duration of Edward’s stay. The outrage at the order disguised as a request was palpable even though Fanny only received a polite, if stilted, nod from Mama in answer.

The man himself arrived at Norland not but a handful of days after his sister and thankfully seemed to possess an opposite disposition to his awful sister. Edward Ferrars was a quiet man who often stumbled over his words leaving the Dashwood women at somewhat of a loss as they were all expecting a far more pompous and self-important man given Fanny’s descriptions of her brothers. Indeed dear Edward assuaged Evelyn’s concerns fairly quickly by insisting he be housed in the guest quarters, he even seemed to allow Marianne’s pointed comment regarding his view. 

One afternoon, Margaret having once again disappeared to the concern of all, the remaining Dashwood women were perusing the available listings for their new home. Elinor, ever the practical one, pointed out that we would not require anything as large as four bedrooms when we can share just two. Evelyn caught the fleeting look of horror cross Marianne’s deep blue eyes and squeezed her hand in reassurance. Both Marianne and Mama’s input to the discussion had thus far proven to be more luxurious than they could now afford. Evelyn could see the slight furrowing of Elinor’s brow, a sure sign that she was feeling the burden coming to rest on her shoulders, as such burdens often did. The timely intervention of dear Edward was most welcome and Evelyn once again felt indebted to the man for providing her eldest sister with a much needed distraction.

The house search currently stalled left Evelyn with an unexpectedly free afternoon. Not wanting to tempt fate Evelyn hurried up to her room to change into her shooting gear and this time collected her rifle and the various accoutrements before heading out for some light target practice. She was only 30 minutes in when Marianne settled on the garden chair their father used to occupy during their lessons.

“Tell me dearest sister, do you find some sort of catharsis in shooting that thing or is it the inevitable solitude from the noise the blasted thing makes that you enjoy?” A smile crept onto Evelyn’s face at Marianne’s dislike of the rifle.

“Oh ‘tis most definitely the catharsis dearest darling sister, of hitting my new favourite target right between her eyes.” Evelyn said as she lined up another shot and fired. The loud crack of the gun made Marianne quickly cover her ears whilst shooting a glare at Evelyn’s back.

“Ugh, even I know it’s basic shooting etiquette to give a warning before you fire oh dearest darling sister of mine.” Marianne said with just enough laughter in her expression that Evelyn knew she would pay for her stunt later. “Besides, you shoot those same targets every week, what could be so special about them now?”

Evelyn could no longer suppress her laughter as she lay down the rifle in a safe position and held up the top sheet from the pile to her left. 

“I may have made a few alterations to the targets” she said as she held up the crudely drawn caricature of Fanny for Marianne to see.

Evelyn’s artistic endeavours were rewarded with a cackle that forced itself from Marianne’s lips and only abated once she’d run out of breath.

“So is that why you abandoned us after dinner last evening?” Marianne said between gasps of laughter. “And here I thought Elinor was the only artist in the family.”

The following hour saw several of the crude drawings gain a variety of punctures between the fits of laughter from the two sisters. Marianne seemed much more in favour of Evelyn’s shooting given its current direction and now that Evelyn had provided her with some cotton to stuff in her ears she didn’t mind the sound nearly so much. Evelyn for her part made sure to make a greater show of lining up her shots after startling Marianne the first few firings. All in all the afternoon turned out to be far more enjoyable than either of them had expected.

-----

In the months that followed Evelyn packed away her rifle and bow in their respective cases and tried to focus on the things she wouldn’t be able to bring with her, namely the cello and the violin which technically belonged to the estate even though neither instrument had seen any regular use for years before she’d taken them up. Ordinarily she would have spent much of the summer months outdoors but she no longer had the heart to tend to her garden, this led to Evelyn spending more time with Marianne in the music room. She would also have spent this time with Margaret or Elinor but the latter was currently buried under a pile of listings and both seemed to be spending their free time with Edward. Evelyn was starting to feel almost guilty given how much of the man’s time was being taken up by the youngest Dashwood, who was apparently now learning the art of swordplay which she would need when she was sailing across the globe as a pirate captain. Although it was endearing to see how the attention the man showed to her youngest sister, it was the time he spent with Elinor that was of most interest to Evelyn. Thus, in an effort to relieve her guilt and definitely not because of any pact Evelyn may have made with Marianne to give the couple as much time together as possible, Evelyn kept Margaret as occupied as she could. Her efforts seemed to be paying off as now it was evident from the earnest and almost wistful look that came over the man’s face whenever he caught sight of Elinor that he was becoming quite infatuated with her elder sister.

As the weeks passed the attachment forming between Elinor and Edward became ever clearer. The pair could often be spotted sharing a walk or ride through the grounds of the estate. The sight of them never failed to bring a smile to Evelyn’s face, her joy at seeing her eldest sister happy was only rivaled by her relief that her youngest sister had seemingly come out of her grief, a change in her family once again brought on by Mr Ferrars.

One particular evening following the rather awkward reading Marianne had forced upon poor Edward, Evelyn heard Marianne enter Elinor’s bedroom reading one of the romantic poems she adored. Being the ever dutiful younger sister she was, Evelyn quickly took up a place at the door to eavesdrop. While the poem was a little too fanciful for Evelyn’s taste she could still appreciate the sentiment behind the words. Giving her sisters some time for their own conversation Evelyn listened in for the right moment to join.

“What a pity it is that Edward has no passion for reading,” Marianne states rather bluntly.

“You asked him to read, then you made him nervous,” Elinor replied with a perhaps justified measure of reprimand.

“Me?” Marianne for her part seemed genuinely surprised at Elinor’s admonishment.

“Yes. Since your behaviour towards him in all other respects is perfectly cordial, I must assume that you like him in spite of his deficiencies” Evelyn felt her lips pull up in a smirk at the dry wit Elinor often employed when Marianne or Mama were being particularly fanciful.

“I think him… everything that is amiable and worthy.” The pause in Marianne’s sentiment was rather telling and something Elinor naturally picked up on.

“Praise, indeed.” Evelyn winced at the disapproving tone in Elinor’s voice, a sure sign that Marianne was getting close to being removed from the bedchamber should she continue in such a way.

“But he shall have my unswerving devotion when you tell me that he is to be my brother.” Marianne said, the truth of her words shining through. “How shall I do without you?”

“Do without me?”

“I’m sure you will be very happy, but you must promise not to live too far away.”

“Marianne, there is no question of… That is, there is… There is no understanding” Elinor stuttered.

“Do you love him?” Evelyn froze at Marianne’s question, not daring to breathe lest she miss the answer.

“I do not intend to deny that I think very highly of him. That I… greatly esteem him.” Elinor replied in the halting way Evelyn knew meant that there were thousands more words she’d left unsaid. “I like him.” With that final small statement Evelyn knew that Elinor was most definitely in love and that her fear of that love being unrequited was equally great.

“Esteem him? Like him? Use those insipid words again and I shall leave the room this instant” Marianne appeared not to be able to read the truth behind Elinor’s words.

“Very well, forgive me. I believe my feelings to be stronger than I have declared but further than that you must not believe” Elinor’s reply all but confirmed Evelyn’s suspicions regarding Elinor’s true feelings. As she heard Marianne start to leave the room all while lightly admonishing Elinor with the words she found so insipid, Evelyn ducked back into her own room and waited for Marianne to clear the corridor. Once the coast was clear Evelyn crept into Elinor’s room herself.

“I don’t find your words insipid” she said as she settled herself beside Elinor on the bed.

“Is it too much to ask that I might have a private conversation?” Elinor replied as she rested her head on Evelyn’s shoulder. “I suppose you’re here to express your own opinions?”

“Firstly, there are four of us, privacy is practically nonexistent.” Evelyn said, a slight chuckle colouring her voice. “And secondly, my opinion is just that but I do believe it could be quite helpful.”

Elinor simply looked up at her in response, the indication to continue clear on her face.

“I think that it’s perfectly understandable for you to wonder whether your feelings are returned.” Elinor huffed at that and made to remove her head and turn away before Evelyn quickly placed a gentle hand on her chin to halt her movements. “But, if you saw the way he looks at you when he believes no one is watching, I don’t believe there would be a single doubt in your mind over his affection.”

With that final statement Evelyn pressed a kiss to her sister’s forehead and went back to her own bed.

-----

It was only a few days later that Elinor and Edward suffered a large setback. Mama had sworn both Evelyn and Marianne into strictest confidence as she told the pair of the conversation she’d had with Fanny that afternoon. Well, conversation was a strong word for what was really another of Fanny’s reminders of her and her family’s superiority over theirs. This one however had made plain that regardless of Edward’s feelings, his family would never approve of Elinor now that they were of such lower means. This incident had been the deciding factor that pushed Mama to announce our move to Devonshire in the coming days. They were to move to a small house on the estate of one Sir John Middleton, Mama’s cousin. The crestfallen look on Edward’s face was almost enough for Evelyn to confess the true reason for their sudden departure but ultimately she felt that it would be cruel to spring Edward with a choice between the woman he loves and his prospects. It was Margaret who provided a small ray of hope by securing a promise from Edward that he would come visit them when they were happily installed in Barton Cottage.

Much of the time before their departure was spent packing and often determining what they had to leave behind. For Marianne and Evelyn it was their instruments and the library, for Margaret it was her treehouse and her atlas, and for Elinor it was her horse, while the chestnut mare would have been useful they could not possibly afford her upkeep and so she would stay in her stable at Norland. Evelyn, having taken a que from Margaret, was making sure that they packed more than clothes and basic living necessities. As such, she was currently in the small plant nursery she had set up in the grounds gathering the journals she’d written containing all her notes regarding the proper way to care for certain plants. Almost on a whim Evelyn also took a cutting off her wisteria and planted it in a small pot with hopes that its addition to Barton cottage would make the place feel more like home.

Eventually their day of departure had finally come and the Dashwoods took one final look at their former home just before boarding the carriage that would take them to Barton Cottage.

Chapter Text

Evelyn

Their journey to Barton Cottage, while picturesque, was long. The small carriage seemed to hit every bump and divot, it was a wonder the wheel spokes hadn’t snapped. The many nights the family spent at various inns, living from their suitcases, over the weeks long trek were usually quiet affairs as the group fell into a routine of supper, a short walk to stretch and ease their aches, and then bed after readying whatever each of them were to occupy themselves with the next day.

Eventually, the sprawling fields of Somerset gave way to the rolling hills of Devonshire and the group became noticeably more excited as the end of their long journey was finally in sight. Even Elinor, who had been understandably dispirited for the journey thus far, appeared to be in a better mood.

Barton Cottage at first glance was a rather dull looking building. Although the day’s overcast sky and cold light was certainly not helping, Evelyn wondered if someone had made a conscious choice in making the entire house almost the exact same shade of grey or if it was the work of time. The only variation to the colour Evelyn could spot from the front was the ivy growing up the eastern side of the brickwork. Sensing that the rest of her family was feeling the same slight disappointment she was, Evelyn began walking up the narrow path towards their new abode.

“I suppose I should get planting then if we wish for the place to have any colour by spring,” Evelyn called back to her still unmoved family. “Well, if none of you are willing to even step past the gate I suppose I shall be deciding where we all sleep?”

The Dashwood women suddenly seemed to regain their ability to walk as they practically sprinted past her. 

“Honestly, you make one hammock out of your parents’ bed linens and suddenly nobody trusts you anymore.” Evelyn said with a huff.

“Yes, that hammock which was so structurally unsound that Marianne got trapped in it until Papa found her.” Elinor replied as she passed, her smirk evident in her voice.

“That was a first attempt, I’ve much improved since then.” Evelyn retorted, tilting her chin up to display a confidence in her words she did not feel.

“No, they haven’t.” Elinor called back as she entered the house and turned the corner, apparently Evelyn still needed work when it came to tricking her elder sister.

Evelyn had just finished cleaning the dirt from beneath her fingernails when she heard what she presumed to be visitors from the front of the house. Rounding the side of the cottage she came upon her family conversing with a jovial older couple with a surprisingly large number of dogs excitedly sniffing and pawing around their new acquaintances. Moving closer after pausing only briefly to take the unexpected scene in, Evelyn caught what she presumed to be the tail end of introductions.

“And you must be Miss Margaret, such lovely things your daughters are Mrs Dashwood.” The older woman said, the excitement at the new arrivals practically radiating off of her. One of the dogs trotted over to Evelyn’s feet, alerting the gathering to her presence.

“Ah, Sir John, Mrs Jennings, this is my second eldest, Evelyn” Mama said as she extended an arm to encourage Evelyn towards the group.

“My word Mrs Dashwood, each daughter you introduce to us seems even more lovely than the last” the older woman whom Evelyn now presumed to be Mrs Jennings said. “Oh, I feel as though I know you all already, delightful creatures are they not?”

“Indeed, Mama, and you know you must dine at Barton Park daily, oh every day.” Sir John seemed to be just as precocious as his mother-in-law.

“Oh, my dear Sir John we cannot possibly…” Mama replied in an attempt at propriety that seemed to fall on deaf ears.

“No, no no no no, I would not brook refusals, I’m quite deaf to them you know. But I insist!”

“Sir John let us only settle in a few days. But thank you so very much.” Elinor was once again fulfilling her role as the voice of reason.

Marianne had gone ahead of the rest of the party towards the cottage. Evelyn, not so far behind, could guess that Marianne likely found their new neighbours to be a little much. Evelyn on the other hand couldn’t help but warm to Sir John and Mrs Jennings, though they may be somewhat improper, she didn’t detect a shred of malice coming from them. Indeed, they seemed to simply be genuinely excited at their addition to the estate. Mrs Jennings reminded her of the one of the twittering birds flitting from branch to branch, as she was seemingly able to hold multiple conversations all at once. Sir John, while a touch more sedate than Mrs Jennings, was similar in temperament to his pack of excitable hounds and apparently just as stubborn when it came to acts of generosity.

When their neighbours finally bid them adieu Evelyn set to unpacking, taking care to find a suitable place for her rifle. Even though the case was locked, she still followed her Papa’s instructions diligently, especially when she had a younger sister with a dream of becoming a gun toting pirate. This slight delay in the rest of her unpacking seemed to be her undoing however, as when she entered what was now her, Elinor and Marianne’s bedroom she found that the other two had already laid claim to the double bed, leaving the cot by the window for Evelyn.

The window apparently had quite the draft and that night Evelyn resorted to cocooning herself in as many layers as she could lay her hands on. She was currently snuggled under all the bed linens she possessed along with several coats and even a few of her thicker winter gowns. The sound of Elinor’s hurried steps over to the hooks where they kept their shawls was her only indication that she was not the only one finding their new lodgings a little on the cold side. Indeed, Marianne’s complaint over Elinor’s chilled feet was shaky enough that it was obvious she was feeling it too. The three girls had taken the colder of the two rooms for a number of reasons, first, it would not do for their mother and Margaret to have to endure this, and second, the other bedroom didn’t have space for the cot Evelyn was now burrowed into.

Resolving to attend to their less than comfortable sleeping conditions on the morrow Evelyn fell into broken, fitful sleep punctuated by her sisters chattering teeth.

-----

The next days saw the Dashwood women settling into their new home. As usual, Elinor and Evelyn were the quickest at unpacking and had moved onto patching up the cottage, hoping to avoid any further frosty nights of barely sleeping. Evelyn was currently working on the window in their bedroom with the help of Tom, one of the two staff they could afford to bring with them. She was exceptionally grateful that the man had agreed to come with them as now he had given the two eldest sisters a quick lesson in home repair. Evelyn had thus far, tightened and oiled the hinges on several of the formerly creaking doors, helped nail down the squeaking floorboards, and weeded the planting bed in the garden where they hoped to grow their own vegetables. She had now moved onto the windows and was working on eliminating the awful draft plaguing her and her roommates.

By the time Marianne had decided upon an appropriate place for each of her belongings Evelyn had finished securing all the loose panes of glass, making the window air tight once again. It was work she had never imagined she would need to do and yet here she was with a slight sheen of sweat on her brow and her hands smudged with the dark grey putty like material one apparently used for such purposes. Putting what remained of the patching supplies away Evelyn scrubbed as much of the dark substance from her hands as possible but she suspected it would take a few rounds of vigorous scrubbing to completely remove it. Desperate to get out of the house and into the fresh air she exited the home swiftly to discourage anyone asking her to fix something else, after all, by now it was definitely someone else’s turn. Instead Evelyn took the opportunity to find a suitable place for a makeshift archery range.

Walking down past the end of their garden Evelyn took a moment to simply relax, to close her eyes and breathe. She missed Norland, but she had to admit that even before Papa passed there had been a heavy weight of expectation, one she had consistently failed to meet. Here she could simply be. In this new place where no one yet knew her, and where propriety seemed lax enough that she would not be ridiculed for her interests. Yes, she thought, life may be a little harder for a while but she believes she will like it here.

-----

Evelyn’s search proved fruitful as just a short walk from Barton Cottage there was a tree growing at the base of a steep bank. Its trunk was thick enough for a decent target and the bank would provide an excellent safety measure for any missed shots. Evelyn set to work carving some crude targets into the bark; they would do until she could fashion a proper one to hang on the trunk.

Finding a spot at a good distance Evelyn drew her bow and loosed a few practice shots. They hit their targets, though not as centrally as she would’ve liked, it had been months since she’d last practiced and it was showing. Allowing her irritation to fuel her, she spent the remainder of the afternoon finding her rhythm again.

As evening approached Evelyn had regained enough confidence in her abilities to move onto some speed shooting. While her father had often praised her for the ease at which she had picked up the proper technique for speed shooting, Evelyn had always felt that she wasn’t quite as fast as she could be. Thus began a minor obsession whereby she became so focused on the target and her form that she noticed little else.

With her attention so focused on her present activity, Evelyn failed to notice the lone figure walking along a track to the west with a small hunting dog dutifully sitting by his feet.

-----

Brandon

The light of the day had taken on the golden hue reserved for the hours just before sundown and Brandon was still a decent walk from his estate when he came across a curious sight. It appeared that a young woman, unfamiliar to him, was practicing archery using a tree for a target. His friend Sir John Middleton had told him repeatedly and at great length that Barton Cottage was to be occupied by his recently widowed cousin and her four daughters so he could only assume that the archer was one of them. Archery, while not an unusual hobby for a lady, was usually only indulged in for an audience so that an aspiring woman may show off her figure. And he doubted she was showing off her figure for the wildlife, regardless of how pretty that figure may be. Besides that her skill showed a passion for the sport few seemed to possess now that it was no longer needed for survival. The lady before him was displaying what must be the fruits of years of practice given her accuracy, rate of fire and that she was at the maximum distance she could reasonably be from the target given the terrain. At this distance he couldn’t make out much of her appearance save from her pale hair and slim frame, indeed he could only tell she was hitting her target from the distinctive dull thudding sound of arrows burrowing into wood. Brandon had always appreciated those who show such passion and single-minded focus in their pursuits and the young lady seemed to be just such a person.

Turning away, a small smile forming on his lips, and resuming his journey home he pondered the lady archer and hoped that his impression of her character was both correct and indicative of the rest of the new arrivals. After all, he would likely be seeing them a great deal given his longstanding friendship with Sir John and Mrs Jennings. It would seem that lunch tomorrow would be a more interesting affair than usual.

Chapter Text

Evelyn

This morn had been a hectic one, Margaret had taken to exploring the nearby countryside which at this time of year included a particularly muddy reed bed. This was the reason Evelyn and Marianne had spent much of the morning scrubbing all the dirt from the little hellion’s skin. Elinor had been on hot water duty as it had taken several basins for the water run clear after scrubbing Margaret’s hair.

Nevertheless, they were now on their way to Barton Park having changed into more suitable attire for the lunch they had promised Sir John they would attend. Barton Park was of comparable size to Norland but where their former home had been a combination of Tudor and Georgian in style, the red brick walls contrasted against the lighter beige quoins making the house look distinctly Jacobean. 

The ever eager Sir John and Mrs Jennings were out the front doors to greet them before the carriage had even come to a stop. Then again, as the only residents of such a large estate Evelyn supposed it was only natural that they should be so excited for company. The Dashwoods were swiftly led through to the dining room for luncheon, given that no further introductions needed to be made as Sir John had been a widower for some time now.

There was a period of much appreciated silence as they ate their meal, sadly ending all too soon as Sir John spoke up regarding the lone empty place setting at the table.

“Where can Brandon be?” Sir John said, looking up from his meal. “Poor fellow, I hope he’s not lamed his horse.”

“Colonel Brandon is the most eligible bachelor in the county.” Mrs Jennings stated as she picked the stone from a cherry before eating in with her fingers.

“Oh indeed,” Sir John huffed between mouthfuls.

“He’s bound to do for one of you,” the older woman continued, “mind I think he’s a better age for Miss Dashwood”

Mrs Jennings looked up at Elinor as she finished her dessert and the gleam in her eye had Evelyn’s hackles rising, her protective instincts sensing the need to intervene. While she could see only curiosity in Mrs Jennings' expression it was perhaps a little too enthusiastic and directed towards a subject Elinor was definitely not ready to discuss even privately.

“But I dare say she’s left her heart behind in Sussex, hmm” this had Evelyn’s alarm bells ringing, which unfortunately must have shown on her face. “I see you Miss Evelyn and Miss Marianne! I think I’ve unearthed a secret.” She said with an exceptionally pleased look upon her face.

“Ah, you’ve sniffed one out already have you Mother. You’re worse than my best pointer Flossy!” Sir John’s comment gave Evelyn a little more time to formulate a distraction as he and his Mama-in-law burst into laughter.

“What sort of man is he Miss Dashwood? Butcher, baker, candlestick maker?” She chuckled. “I shall winkle it out of you, you know.”

“She’s horribly good at winkling” the pair shared a brief conspiratorial look at Sir John’s assessment.

“You’re in lonely country now Miss Dashwood. We’ve none of us have any secrets here” Mrs Jennings previous curiosity now looked positively shrewd as her gaze homed in on poor Elinor.

“Or if we do, we do not keep them long.” Even with Sir John’s brief distractions Evelyn knew she would need to properly intervene soon but at this point Mrs Jennings at least was far too interested in the subject. Evelyn needed to give the woman something to satisfy her at least for now or Elinor would likely show no authentic emotion again.

“He’s curate of the parish I dare say.”

“Or perhaps a handsome lieutenant.”

“Give us a clue Miss Dashwood. Is he in uniform?”

The pair continued their back and forth, Mrs Jennings leading as Evelyn felt she probably always did for these kinds of conversations, their eyes practically boring into Elinor now.

“He has no profession.” Margaret’s chipper reply broke Evelyn from her fraught train of thoughts as she belatedly realised she should have been paying attention to their youngest sister. Margaret was most definitely unaware that they should look for a way to steer the conversation to other topics, not encouraging it. But alas, at only ten and three she wasn’t able to sense Elinor’s ever growing distress.

“No profession! He’s a gentleman then?” Sir John had entirely ceased eating now, his attention turned towards the loosest lipped Dashwood.

Sensing that there would be no better opportunity Evelyn took her chance and cut into the conversation.

“Yes, he is. I was actually helping him improve his shot before he had to away to London.” Evelyn had the full attention of both gossip mongers now, it was time to shift the topic completely. “Oh that reminds me, did I spot a shooting range in the grounds Sir John?”

“Uh yes, I like to stay practiced when out of hunting season.” Sir John’s brief pause was enough to show she’d broken him away from Elinor’s personal matters. Now she just had to provide an enticing enough idea for them to latch onto.

“Well then, I wonder if I might be so bold as to ask if you would indulge me in a little shooting contest? I’ve always wanted to test my skill against a decorated military man such as yourself”

“Ah so we have a marksman among us!” Sir John’s expression had regained its merriment and interest. “Well, why not now? I never shy away from a good challenge!” He said, back to his boisterously jovial tone.

“I’m afraid today won’t be possible, I am far from dressed for it and my rifle is at home”

“No matter, no matter. You can borrow whichever of mine you would like!”

“You’re very kind Sir John but I fear the recoil on even your smallest would send me all the way back to Sussex” Her joke landed well as both Sir John and Mrs Jennings erupted into laughter once more, even the Dashwoods joined with their more polite chuckles.

Now out of ideas Evelyn gave a swift kick to Marianne’s shin beneath the table and widened her eyes at her imploringly as she leveled Evelyn with a glare.

“Well, if there is to be no contest today, might I play your pianoforte Sir John?”

“Yes, yes, of course. My goodness.” The man said having recovered from his laughter. “Yes, we do not stand upon ceremony here my dear.”

Crisis now fully averted they all made their way into the music room, Elinor shooting her a grateful look as they left the dining room.

-----

Marianne’s sweet voice filled the room as she sang with her playing. She’d thankfully chosen Weep You no More Sad Fountains by John Dowland, a piece that while romantic was notably less gloomy than her recent choices had been. 

Evelyn’s position on the end of the row next to Elinor meant that she could catch the entrance of an unfamiliar man standing in the doorway. One did not need to be of great intellect to surmise that this must be the illustrious Colonel Brandon. The man seemed utterly enthralled with the performance as he gazed at Marianne, not entering the room further likely in an effort not to disturb. Marianne certainly made for a lovely sight at that moment, her head tilted down in focus so that the afternoon sun illuminated her light brown curls making them appear spun with gold. Elinor, having noticed the direction of her gaze joined Evelyn in her observing the new arrival, no doubt also noticing how captivated the man seemed to be with their sister.

As Marianne finished her performance, she too caught sight of the Colonel which finally alerted the rest of the room's occupants to his presence. 

“Brandon! Where have you been? Come, come meet our beautiful new neighbours.” Sir John’s booming voice once again rang out when he caught sight of his friend.

“What a pity you’re late Colonel. You have not heard our delightful songbird Miss Marianne.” Mrs Jennings followed with her own greeting.

“A great pity indeed.” The Colonel’s voice was deeper than Evelyn had expected. Indeed, the baritone the man possessed seemed to resonate even when speaking at a normal volume.

“Mrs Dashwood, may I present my dear friend Colonel Brandon. We served in the East Indies together. I assure you there’s not a better fellow in the world.” Sir John said, breaking Evelyn from the slight trance the Colonel’s voice had put her in.

“Have you really been to the East Indies Colonel?” Margaret chimed in, ever eager to hear about the shores beyond England.

“I have.” This time Evelyn was prepared for the Colonel’s rich voice, mostly.

“What’s it like?” Margaret’s grin was in danger of splitting her face in two at this point.

“Like? Hot.” Came Sir John’s lackluster answer.

“The air is full of spices.” The Colonel’s answer was far better and somehow caused Margaret to light up even more, much like she did when she was learning swordplay from Edward or when they would practice archery together.

Evelyn took a moment to really examine the Colonel now that she didn’t have to crane her neck to catch sight of the man. He was not classically handsome, his face fell squarely into the category of interesting, but his strong jawline made sure he was far from unpleasant. He was tall too, Evelyn’s head just barely reached the man’s shoulders. Shoulders she now noted were almost twice as wide as her own. Indeed, the Colonel cut a fine figure, and he lacked the pot belly most former servicemen seemed to develop. He also possessed a gentlemanly demeanor, if his countenance was a little grave.

The rest of the afternoon at Barton Park was spent in the gardens or having tea on the back terrace, and despite the impropriety of the estate’s residents taking a little getting used to, they had a lovely time. Evelyn spent much of it with Sir John and the Colonel discussing the advantages and shortcomings of the various guns in their collections. Margaret was practically attached to them, until Mama pulled her away, peppering them all with questions.

-----

As evening fell the Dashwoods boarded the carriage to return home. They had barely passed the end of the estate’s drive when Marianne made her displeasure known.

“And as for you, you have no right, no right at all to parade your ignorant assumptions…”

“They’re not assumptions. You told me.” Margaret was clearly becoming quite distressed at being on the receiving end of their sister’s ire, but it was Marianne’s turn to look up guiltily at Elinor now.

“I told you nothing.” Lie.

“They’ll meet him when he comes anyway.” Margaret fired back.

By now Evelyn had had more than enough of the two’s back and forth. “Enough, both of you. Marianne, she’s right and besides they’d already caught wind of something because all three of us let it show on our faces plain as day.” It was only right that she take the blame for her own mishap but Marianne sometimes needed to be reminded that she was not blameless herself. “And Margaret, I know Sir John and Mrs Jennings are nice people but that was Elinor’s information to share if she chose to.”

“Sorry” the youngest Dashwood’s voice held genuine apology which was good enough for both Elinor and Evelyn.

“We should all get used to this I suppose. To paraphrase Mrs Jennings, we’re in lonely country now.” Evelyn’s words turned the atmosphere solemn for a moment, but they had at least ended the arguing.

Marianne, it seemed, was not satisfied with the resolution, and continued to bicker with Margaret until Mama had to intervene with instructions that they were to restrict their remarks to the weather or stay silent if they cannot call a ceasefire.

-----

The next day saw the Dashwood sisters and Colonel Brandon collecting reeds for basket weaving while Mama, Sir John and Mrs Jennings picnic on the slope down to the reed bed. Evelyn was making quick work of the process thanks to the hunting knife she had thought to bring with her. Margaret, while not yet allowed a knife of her own, had the help of Tom and Elinor had designated herself as the collector and carrier of our work. Marianne however was obviously struggling as she twisted the reeds this way and that, trying to break the fibres. The Colonel had apparently noticed her struggle too as he bent down beside her, offering a small pocket knife out to her. Evelyn was gazing at the Colonel’s broad back when her knife cut through the cluster of reeds she’d been working on rather unexpectedly. Evelyn froze as she was jolted back to the task in front of her, luckily the knife had been far away from her other hand and she was cutting away from herself so hadn’t gotten so much as a scratch, but still. This was ridiculous, she’d met the man only yesterday and yet here she was staring at him like she was one of the heroines in the books Marianne so loved. Not to mention the Colonel himself seemed rather focused on her sister and outside of conversation had barely taken his eyes off her.

When Margaret had finally decreed that they had enough reeds the harvesters joined the rest of their party and settled themselves on the blankets across the grass. Now that the more arduous activities were done for the day they all began their own discussions. She and Sir John arranged a day to hold their friendly shooting contest which Sir John promptly roped the Colonel into. Marianne and Elinor were discussing the designs they were going to attempt with their baskets, or Marianne was, Elinor was trying to work out what size basket Margaret planned to make given the amount of material they had gathered. Margaret herself had found a stick and was poking every suspicious mound of dirt she could find while making sure to stay within earshot of the Colonel lest he say anything interesting about the East Indies without her hearing it.

-----

Brandon

Brandon was currently at Barton Park, performing some maintenance on his favoured rifle for the shooting contest Sir John had pulled him into with Miss Evelyn. His friend had been diligently working on his own rifle in silence thus far, but it would not be Sir John if such a thing were to last, so he was in no way surprised when his friend spoke up.

“You know what they're saying of course?” John asked.

Brandon was fairly certain of what the man was alluding to given his friend’s lack of subtlety but he had found over the years that it was better to let John finish all his questions than answer too quickly, lest he give up more than he bargained for.

“Hm? Word is you’ve developed a taste for certain company.” Brandon could feel John’s eyes on him from over his shoulder. “And why not say I? A man like you in his prime. She’d be a very fortunate young lady” John punctuated his last point by prodding Brandon’s arm with his cleaning rod.

“Marianne Dashwood would no more think of me than she would of you John”

“Brandon my boy do not think of yourself so meanly”

“And all the better for her.” 

Brandon did not enjoy cutting his friend off but sometimes it was necessary or he simply wouldn’t stop. He appreciated John’s attempts to bolster his self-esteem but in this case they felt more like platitudes than anything of substance. Brandon was not a fool, he’d experienced enough of the world and of the consequences for foolhardy behaviour to have grown past it. Still, he could not deny that Miss Marianne had captivated him. He knew that on some level it was that she reminded him of Eliza but that did not deter the attachment he felt. With Eliza he had been young and hopelessly in love only to be devastated when his father forced them apart, resulting in her ruin.

Brandon was not one to deny himself his feelings and he would earnestly try to see if they were in any way reciprocated, but he would not be a fool this time. Even then his words to John were truthful, he had seen thirty a little over five years ago and one as young as Miss Marianne would likely view him as far too old for her tastes. No, he would allow himself to act like the hopeless romantic he was and see if he could prove himself wrong but perhaps this time he might shield his heart from devastation a little.

Chapter Text

Evelyn

Evelyn was giddy with anticipation, practically bouncing in her seat in the carriage as they made their way to Barton Park. Despite being a very practiced marksman Evelyn had thus far only been able to compare her skill to her Papa’s. They had rarely received visitors at Norland and those that they did had not shared her passion for the sport. Even the running contest she had had with Papa had tailed off towards the last six months of his life, something Evelyn now saw as the first signs of his failing health, and even before that Henry Dashwood had never professed to be particularly good at the sport.

This was Evelyn’s first real chance to see how she stacked up against people with formal training in the area. Part of her was nervous, she could turn out to be completely mediocre after all, but her excitement greatly outweighed anything else.

She was out the carriage before it had even fully stopped, even beating Sir John and Mrs Jennings to the front steps. The pair were as excitable as ever and of course commented on Evelyn’s own obvious eagerness. The Colonel and the rest of the Dashwoods joined the trio, initiating the rounds of polite greetings Evelyn had entirely forgotten she was supposed to do.

They wasted no time in heading to the range, an instance where Evelyn was grateful for Sir John’s lack of propriety which would normally have had the gathering exchanging an appropriate amount of small talk first. The set up was quite simple, each of them taking part would do so in turn, the order of which would be determined by drawing lots. They would have a single shot at each target and once finished one of Sir John’s staff would go out and mark any hits with a different paint colour for each of them, red for Sir John, black for the Colonel and green for Evelyn.

Sir John ended up going first, Evelyn would be second, and the Colonel was bringing up the rear. Evelyn could make out that her family and Mrs Jennings were talking about her, probably lightly teasing her for how focused she was, but Evelyn was far too intent on the shooting to care. Sir John finished rather quickly though he did not seem to rush his shots, as though that were simply the pace he always shot at.

It was now Evelyn’s turn to take position. She was thankful that the heat of summer persisted into early September as it meant she didn’t require the heavy coats she wore throughout winter. Evelyn had donned her preferred shooting garb, a deep navy blue fitted waistcoat and a long skirt made of the same material with a loose shirt underneath that only tightened around the cuffs which extended almost to her elbows. The outfit was perfect; it allowed her complete freedom of movement around her shoulders. While not considered fashionable it didn’t tighten restrictively across her chest like many of her other clothes did thanks to the current style and her own slightly disproportionate breasts.

There was no set order in which they were meant to shoot each target but there was an obvious order to their difficulty. The easiest was a large target fairly close to her and the most difficult was a small target hung off of a tree branch quite a ways away that would swing at the slightest breeze.

Resting the butt of her rifle against her shoulder Evelyn took aim and fired, making short work of the first three. The fourth while stable on the ground was far enough that she would have to account for the slight arc of the shot but it still proved relatively simple. The fifth as she had suspected would be tricky, Sir John had only grazed it as a gust of wind had moved the thing at the last second. Slowing her breathing Evelyn took her time with this one, waiting for a lull in the breeze coming across the field while trying to predict where the target would be by the time the shot reached it. Finding her moment she fired and the abrupt backwards swing of the small target told her she’d hit it but at this distance she couldn’t make out if the shot was square or grazing as Sir John’s had been.

Putting her rifle in the rack next to Sir John’s she went to stand with the rest of their group now that it was the Colonel’s turn. The man in question did a last cursory check of his weapon while Evelyn’s shots were being marked and Evelyn herself was currently being pestered by Margaret who wanted to know when she would be able to learn to shoot with guns rather than just bows. The Colonel lined up his shot, the shooting form taking his figure all the way too impressive as it highlighted his strong shoulders and trim silhouette. Evelyn couldn’t help but cast a quick look at Marianne, trying to guess her thoughts on the man. Unless her sister had suddenly developed the ability to hide even a single one of her emotions, she looked upon the Colonel with only mild interest and certainly none of the ardor the man seemed to have developed for her. Evelyn wasn’t sure how she felt about this. She had been planning to tamp down her growing admiration for the gentleman if Marianne had reciprocated at all, knowing that she would find solace in her sister’s happiness with a good man. But this disinterest meant that Evelyn was free to her burgeoning feelings, a much messier situation given the Colonel’s affection towards her sister.

Disguising her ogling as interest in where the Colonel’s shots landed Evelyn watched as he aimed and fired on the last of the five targets, taking far less time than she had for the little dancing thing.

They now just had to wait for the Colonel’s shots to be marked and the targets gathered for their examination. Margaret once again joined in with Sir John and Mrs Jennings enthusiasm especially as the former had just offered to teach her how to handle one of his smaller pistols, much to Mama’s horror. Evelyn had found herself in a conversation with the Colonel and Marianne about music.

“Do you enjoy any other instruments besides the pianoforte Miss Marianne?”

“No not especially,” Marianne’s replies were rather succinct, and she almost seemed desperate to redirect the Colonel’s attention. “But Evelyn plays the pianoforte, the violin and the cello.”

“Really? Are you as accomplished a musician as you are a marksman Miss Evelyn?” The Colonel said, his hazel eyes turning to her and rendering her momentarily dumbstruck.

“Yes! She’s most accomplished in a great many things.” Marianne’s flattery, while appreciated lost some of its shine thanks to the obvious ulterior motive.

“To include the pianoforte in that is perhaps a stretch,” Evelyn said now recovered, “I’ve barely had any practice since you discovered your love for it at ten and practically glued yourself to the bench.” That comment elicited a good natured glare from her sister and evoked a chuckle from the Colonel, a sound Evelyn quickly found she liked a great deal.

Both Evelyn and Marianne were saved by Sir John’s loud proclamation that the results were in. They quickly gathered around the targets which had been laid flat side by side for them to examine. All three of them had gotten within the centre ring for the first three targets with the Colonel just slightly better than Evelyn who’s shots were consistently slightly left and Sir John who was much closer to the ring’s border than the other two. The fourth target kept things interesting as Evelyn and the Colonel had managed the centre ring, this time Evelyn’s was just a hair better, and Sir John announced himself out of the running as his had hit just outside the centre. The final target was the decider and had been flipped over evidently so that Mrs Jennings could do a dramatic reveal. As one of the staff flipped the target, they all gathered round to see who the victor would be. As Evelyn had guessed Sir John had only grazed the very outer edge, The Colonel had hit just shy of the centre, leaving Evelyn as the only shot in the centre ring.

Evelyn suddenly found herself overwhelmed with congratulations and praise, so when Sir John’s voice rang out above the others Evelyn latched onto it like a lifeline.

“My dear, that was excellent, just excellent! You must join Brandon and I hunting from now on I insist!”

“I would love to,” the words were out before she’d even fully comprehended the invitation, “that is if it’s amiable to you Colonel?”

“You would be a welcome addition Miss Evelyn.” Shivers raced down Evelyn’s spine at that.

“Wonderful! The deer have been wreaking havoc on the local farms as of late, we could certainly use an extra hand!” Sir John said with a good natured nudge at the Colonel.

The rest of the day passed with friendly conversations and ended with the group dispersing back to their respective homes shortly after dinner. The excitement of the day had caught up to Margaret who was now fast asleep using Mama’s shoulder as a pillow in the carriage. Evelyn was staring out the window at the sunset, trying not to get ahead of herself now that it seemed she would be seeing a certain Colonel on a regular basis at least for the time being.

-----

September saw the Dashwoods as a regular feature at Barton Park, much to the delight of its residents. While the Colonel could not always join them, he had also become a consistent feature in their new lives. Evelyn had just recently been on her first hunt with both Sir John and the Colonel, apparently the deer were actually causing quite a few problems and needed their numbers reducing swiftly. It had been a relatively quiet affair as even Sir John knew to be silent when they spotted a target lest they startle it off. It had been a fruitful endeavour and while they would need to revisit the issue soon, once their quarry emerged from hiding, they would likely all be eating a significant amount of venison for the foreseeable future.

The weather had held today and so they were once again enjoying the grounds of Barton Park. Marianne, Margaret and the Colonel were competing at bowls with Sir John occupying a dual role of referee and dog wrangler after the first few bowls were intercepted. Evelyn was enjoying some tea with Elinor, Mama and Mrs Jennings having been banned from competing with the rest of them by Margaret who was adamant that she was cheating, she wasn’t. Mollifying herself with the thought that she was simply too good at the game Evelyn watched the rest of them contentedly.

Mrs Jennings’ voice pulled her from her reverie, “Besotted.” At first Evelyn thought she had been caught staring at the Colonel but quickly realised the woman was referring to him and Marianne, dampening her mood.

“An excellent match,” she chuckled, “for he’s rich and she’s handsome.”

“How long have you known the Colonel?” Elinor’s question saved her from carrying the conversation on that particular subject.

“Oh, Lord bless you. As long as ever I’ve been here, and I came fifteen years back.” Evelyn shifted closer, intrigued as this was the first she had heard so much about the Colonel. “His estate at Delaford is but four miles hence and he and John are very thick.”

“He has no wife nor children. He had a tragic history.” Evelyn was now listening intently, as Mrs Jennings was likely to be the best source of such information.

“He loved a girl once. Twenty years ago now. A ward to his family, but they were not permitted to marry.”

“On what grounds?” Evelyn asked softly.

“Money,” Mrs Jennings said knowingly, “Eliza was poor. When the father discovered their amour she was flung out of the house, and he was packed off into the army.” Evelyn felt a surge of pity for the Colonel. She could not imagine what it must be like to have that kind of love and have it forcibly taken from you.

“I think he would have done himself a harm if not for John.” Mrs Jennings said in a much lower voice, now turned to Evelyn and Elinor.

“What became of the lady?” Elinor asked the question she could not bring herself to.

“She was passed from man to man. Disappeared from all good society.” Mrs Jennings had been using a much graver tone for the entire subject but it deepened with pity at this.

“When Brandon returned from India, he searched heaven knows how long… only to find her dying in a poorhouse.”

“Once I thought my daughter Charlotte might have cheered him up. But she’s better off where she is.”

“But look at him now! So attentive!” As Mrs Jennings turned their conversation back to the present Evelyn drifted off into her own world which was now filled wondering at what exactly had happened to the poor Colonel. As such, she missed Mrs Jennings' decision to try an experiment with the poor man and Elinor’s attempt to dissuade her.

“Colonel Brandon, we have not heard you play for us of late.” She called, leaning over her chair, to Marianne and the Colonel who were just now making their way to join them at the table.

“For the simple reason that you have a far superior musician here.” He said, indicating her sister.

“Perhaps you did not know Miss Marianne that our dear Brandon shares your passion for music.” It seemed Mrs Jennings was having none of the Colonel’s polite deflections “He plays the pianoforte very well.” This was news to Evelyn as although the Colonel had seemed interested in Marianne’s musical talents she hadn’t assumed he played as well.

The Colonel gave Marianne a somewhat stiff smile at Mrs Jennings’ praise, clearly a little uncomfortable.

“Oh, come, come, you know as many melancholy tunes as Miss Marianne.” Mrs Jennings pressed. “You must play as a duet. Let us see you both side by side.”

At that Mrs Jennings’ machinations had been fully revealed, making them all quite uncomfortable save the woman herself. It was no surprise to Evelyn when Marianne curtly replied that she knew no duets, which was a rather thinly veiled lie the poor Colonel seemed to have picked up on.

-----

When the Dashwoods arrived home Marianne finally broke the silence she had been stewing in since they left Barton Park.

“Are we never to have a moment's peace?” She said trying and failing to untie her bonnet. “The rent here may be low but I believe we have it on very hard terms.”

“Mrs Jennings is a wealthy woman with a married daughter. She has nothing to do but marry off everyone else’s.” Elinor said matter-of-factly as she sorted Marianne’s bonnet for her.

“There’s a parcel arrived for you Mrs Dashwood” Betsy, our only staff besides Tom, called from the other room.

Turning towards the table Evelyn spied a rather large rectangular package wrapped in green hessian sitting atop the polished surface. They all went to inspect the unexpected delivery, Margaret leading the charge of course.

“It is too ridiculous. When is a man to be safe from such wit if age and infirmity do not protect him?” Marianne continued still trapped in her bonnet.

“Infirmity?” Elinor exclaimed incredulously.

“If Colonel Brandon is infirm, then I am at death’s door.” Mama said, reminding Evelyn where she got her wit from.

“Indeed, I hardly think the word infirm could ever be properly used to describe shoulders like his.” All eyes turned to Evelyn as soon as the words left her mouth, causing her cheeks to flush scarlet as she pointedly looked away from her family.

“Hmm, it is a miracle your life has extended this far.” Elinor said after only a beat of silence. Praise the Lord for her wonderful sister.

What remained of the conversation ceased as Margaret opened the package to reveal her atlas. The very one Edward had promised to accompany. The sisters all shared a look as Mama broke the wax seal on the letter attached to the wrappings.

“Dear Mrs Dashwood, Miss Dashwood, Miss Evelyn, 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 likely to hurt me far more than it hurts you. For the present my memories of your kindness must be enough to sustain me and I remain your devoted servant always. E.C.Ferrars” Evelyn looked to Elinor as Mama finished the letter, not sure what she would read on her sister’s face but sure she would read something.

“Why hasn’t he come?” came Margaret’s small voice.

Elinor, as though feeling Evelyn’s eyes on her, promptly left the room under the guise of hanging up her own bonnet and substituting her outer dress for her normal house apron. Marianne left the house entirely, almost dragging Margaret with her to go for a walk for which the two eldest sisters were grateful. 

“I fear Mrs Jennings is a bad influence.” Mama said as she helped Elinor do the ties at her back. “You must miss him, Elinor.”

“We are not engaged, Mama.” Elinor replied, keeping her true feelings private as usual.

“But he loves you, dearest of that I’m certain.” Mama tried again to get her eldest to open up. Meanwhile, Evelyn lent against the wall, watching and waiting for their Mama to give up for Elinor would surely outlast her.

“Mama I am by no means assured of his regard for me.” Elinor replied, still in complete denial. “And even were he to feel such a preference, I think we should be foolish to assume that there would not be many obstacles… to his marrying a woman of no rank who cannot even afford to buy sugar.”

“But Elinor your heart must tell you-”

“In such a situation Mama it is perhaps better to use one’s head.” Elinor’s tone held a finality that allowed no room for any further arguments to the contrary.

Evelyn, still silently observing her sister, pushed off the wall and plucked the sewing Elinor was just starting on from her hands. As Elinor looked up at her in exasperation, she simply extended her hand.

“The sewing can wait, dearest. I want to show you something.” Elinor well knew Evelyn was not going to take no for an answer and so stood from her seat and took the outstretched hand.

Evelyn led her sister to the tree she used for archery practice and showed Elinor the hollow between the roots and the steep bank. The pair nestled down into their hiding spot, completely hidden from the rest of the world.

“I found this when I missed the branch I was aiming at. It’s the only spot I’ve found that offers any true privacy.” Evelyn said, closing her eyes and resting her head against the trunk.

“And you think that by bringing me here I will suddenly pour my heart out, that I will break down into floods of tears?”

“No, I shan’t lie and say that was not the main reason I brought you here but, no, I don’t expect you to break just because of this.” Evelyn could feel Elinor’s gaze on her and it was obvious she was about to run out of patience.

“I think I may be falling for the Colonel.” Evelyn said, causing Elinor to pause and resume her seat beside her, listening in silence.

“I think I may be falling for a man who looks at our sister as though she shines.” Evelyn sighed, opening her eyes and staring up into the canopy.

“But even so, you cannot have missed that Marianne does not reciprocate.” Elinor said her voice soft with concern and comfort. 

“It may actually be better if she did,” Elinor’s face grew puzzled at this, “the fact that she so clearly doesn’t keeps giving me hope, as though one day he would see me.”

Elinor was silent once again, her face tinged with pity at Evelyn’s predicament.

“Besides, it’s not only that.” Evelyn paused trying to find the right words. “I actually find myself jealous of the way Mrs Jennings bothers the both of you about your love lives.”

“Ah, well I can assure you, you are better off,” Elinor said, with a touch of humor.

“Hm, you say that but it’s not only her. It seems that every time those kinds of conversations arise I am forgotten.” Evelyn began running her fingers over the mossy roots surrounding them. “I wonder if my interests are too masculine, if I am too competitive, too strange looking. I always seem to be too something”

She met Elinor’s eyes again, and the two shared a look, both understanding that they could see the beauty in one another but not in themselves.

“But that is more than enough about me, I brought you out here for you after all.”

“Evelyn, I greatly appreciate that you have shared your feelings with me but, truly I am just fine-”

“Exactly, you’re always just fine.” Evelyn cut in, before Elinor could completely repress everything again. “You focus so much on holding yourself together that you don’t see the damage that can do.”

“Now you’re beginning to sound like Mama and Marianne.” Evelyn’s infuriating sister replied.

“My point Elinor, is that we both know you are not really so unfeeling. If however you keep pushing them aside then at some point, you will be able to no longer.” Evelyn said imploringly. “I am not asking you to share such things with anyone, but please dearest, allow yourself to feel them sometimes”

“And I suppose that is the true reason you showed me this place.” Elinor said, her voice a little thicker than usual. “You were right. This place is by far the most private anywhere near.”

It was Evelyn’s turn to be quiet now; she had accomplished what she had set out. She had simply wanted Elinor to have a place she was not so scrutinised, else Evelyn feared her sister may never allow herself the full extent of her feelings.

“Thank you for showing me.” Elinor said, taking her hand as the two of them stood and made their way back to the cottage.

Chapter Text

Evelyn

She and Elinor had just entered the cottage when the first drops of rain began to fall. They were now awaiting the return of Marianne and Margaret who would be soaked through now that the rain was coming down in sheets.

Evelyn was reading the copy of Hamlet she’d swiped from Norland, as the outside was currently too inhospitable for anything else she might like to do, when she heard shouting from downstairs. Marking her place, she set the book down and hurried to the commotion.

She had just descended to the entry hall to see a drenched Marianne being carried into the sitting room by a tall, dark-haired gentleman.

“I can assure you it’s not serious. I took the liberty of feeling the bone and it’s perfectly sound.” The gentleman said his voice slightly breathy from the exertion of carrying her sister Lord knows how far.

“I cannot even begin to thank you,” Mama said.

“Please do not think of it. I am honoured to be of service” He said now catching his breath.

“Please, will you not be seated?” Mama offered while she and Elinor hovered over Marianne. Meanwhile, Evelyn brought Margaret over to the basin to wring the water from her hair.

“Pray excuse me, I have no desire to leave a watermark.” He said repeatedly glancing at Marianne. “But permit me to call tomorrow afternoon and inquire after the patient?”

“We shall look forward to it.” Mama said clearly picturing some kind of epic love story for Marianne and the handsome stranger.

Mama showed the man out, thanking him all the while. Once he reached the front door Marianne, in what barely qualified as a whisper, asked her to procure the mystery man’s name.

“John Willoughby of Allenham at your service,” came the reply much to Marianne’s pleasure.

“John Willoughby of Allenham.” Marianne repeated the name in such a way that it was exceedingly obvious to all that she had immediately developed an attachment to the man. Mama was just as swept away, and the two began discussing Marianne’s saviour, gushing over his gallant rescue and handsome visage.

Evelyn, having quickly checked that Elinor did not require her help with Marianne’s ankle, brought Margaret upstairs for a dry change of clothes. Helping Marianne into a drier ensemble proved a touch more challenging, as their resident hopeless romantic waxed poetic about her new beau. It was only thanks to Elinor’s reminder that catching cold would cause the damsel's nose to swell that she even agreed to it. Eventually the two drowned rats were snugly installed in front of the fire, still happily discussing Mr Willoughby and his valiant rescue along with Mama until the three were practically falling asleep atop one another.

-----

The next day saw Sir John paying them a visit once word had reached Barton Park of Marianne’s injury. He seemed to have rushed here, no doubt to offer his aid, before the carriage had even been ready as he was for once without Mrs Jennings. Evelyn felt that this was all rather overdramatic for something as minor as a twisted ankle, but then she was familiar enough with both her own family and Sir John to at least not be surprised.

Marianne for her part had wasted no time in getting Sir John up to speed and was currently probing him for information on the mysterious Mr Willoughby.

“Mr Willoughby’s well worth catching Miss Dashwood. Miss Marianne must not expect to have all the men to herself.” Sir John said likely trying to ensure the Colonel’s hopes were not dashed.

“But what do you know of Mr Willoughby, Sir John?” Marianne questioned.

“Decent shot, though not nearly so good as your sister nor Brandon. And there’s not a bolder rider in all England.” Evelyn had to suppress a chuckle at Sir John’s unhelpful answer. Having gotten to know the man over their hunting she had known that the things he notes in others would not be the information Marianne desired.

“But what is he like?” Marianne continued.

“Like?” It was becoming increasingly difficult to contain her laughter as Sir John couldn’t fathom what else one could wish to know about another.

“What are his tastes? His passions? His pursuits?” She continued, her stubborn streak rearing its head.

“Well…” Sir John thought for a moment, “he has the smartest little bitch of a pointer, was she out with him?”

Evelyn had resorted to biting the inside of her lip, desperate for a distraction, as she hoped no one noticed her humor.

“Where is Allenham Sir John?” Mama enquired, giving Evelyn a chance to bring herself under control.

“Allenham? Nice little estate three miles east. He’s to inherit it from an elderly relative I believe. Lady Allen is the name.” 

Evelyn’s laughter finally started to abate now that the conversation had moved onto more standard information.

The sound of Sir John’s dogs barking altered them to another caller, Margaret of course jumped up to see who it was.

“It’s Colonel Brandon,” she announced, “I shall go outside and keep watch.”

Evelyn felt herself sit up a little straighter, resisting the urge to check her hair or clothes, lest she give her affections away.

“You’re all on the lookout for Willoughby eh. Dear me poor Brandon, will none of you think of him now.” Sir John said. Evelyn did not meet Elinor’s brief look as she tried not to let herself feel hurt at being overlooked once again. After all, surely she had not done such a good job at concealing her feelings to any who actually took the time to look past her sisters.

They heard a knock from the ever polite Colonel and Elinor bid the man come in. There was an air of discomfort about the room now as Marianne prepared herself to rebuff the Colonel’s affection and Sir John felt pity for his friend and his lack of luck in love. Evelyn was more concerned that the Colonel had certainly heard Sir John’s prior comment, she knew the feeling of being subjected to such things from experience and to say it was less than pleasant was an understatement, even coming from those who cared about you.

The man was met with polite greetings from all those in the room but Marianne who remained silent. The bouquet he was carrying caught Evelyn’s attention almost immediately; it was composed entirely of camellias in various shades of pink, red and white. Given that such plants were not suited to the English climate Evelyn could only guess that the Colonel had a hothouse at his estate. The realisation brought Evelyn the first true pang of homesickness as the memories of all the time she had spent tending to her own in Norland washed over her. Knowing Fanny, all Evelyn’s plants would have been disposed of in favour of the fruit trees and shrubs the London aristocracy preferred, if the building still stood at all.

“How is the invalid?” The Colonel’s voice betrayed none of his true feelings, only a mask of geniality.

“Oh, thank you so much, Colonel.” Marianne said as she accepted the flowers. They must have been in her hand for little more than a second before she had handed them off to Elinor to be put in a vase.

“Miss Marianne, I cannot think why you should set your cap at Willoughby when you’ve already made such a splendid conquest?” Sir John had somehow found a way to make the atmosphere even more uncomfortable.

“I’ve no intention of setting my cap at anyone, Sir John.” Marianne replied pointedly.

“Mr Willoughby, Lady Allen’s nephew?” The Colonel’s tone was far more neutral now, having lost some of its happiness.

“Aye, he visits every year for he’s to inherit.” Sir John said with none of his usual vigor, before quickly recovering. “And he has a very pretty estate of his own, you know, Miss Dashwood, Combe Magna in Somerset.”

“If I were you, I would not give him up to a younger sister for all this tumbling down hills.” Sir John’s suggestion was met with eye rolls from Marianne and Elinor while the Colonel stood stoic as ever. 

No one had a chance to say anything in response however, as Margaret’s excited shouts announced Willoughby’s arrival.

“The man himself. Come, Brandon, we know when we are not wanted. Let us leave him to the ladies.” Sir John said, his feelings regarding Marianne’s choice quite plain.

The two men left, leaving Evelyn torn; she wanted to go after the Colonel, despite that surely being a terrible idea. What would she even say, I apologise for my sister crushing your heart to tiny little pieces, or perhaps, Not to worry Colonel I think you’re wonderful? Definitely not.

The next thing Evelyn knew she was up and walking after the Colonel and Sir John, her legs apparently having a mind of their own. She caught up with them just as they’d finished a brief chat with Willoughby, to whom she spared only the swiftest of greetings.

“Colonel,” she called, “forgive me I realise you must want to be going but I couldn’t help but notice the flowers you gave Marianne, camellias are they not?”

The words had practically tumbled from her mouth which had apparently followed the lead of her legs in acting on its own.

“Indeed, they are.” His reply was rather curt but she could hardly blame him.

“Yes, Brandon here keeps a hothouse over at his estate.” Sir John’s intervention was, for once, exceedingly welcome as he stepped closer to Evelyn and the Colonel, all the while looking her up and down with a twinkle in his eye that distinctly suggested he was planning something.

“Well then, if it’s not too bold could I possibly trouble you for a few cuttings from your hardier plants? I’ve been wanting to start a garden since we arrived.” Evelyn somehow felt she was lying in some way despite the fact that she had uttered no falsehoods.

“Ah certainly not too bold, it would be my pleasure.” The Colonel’s polite smile was firmly in place but his lingering disappointment still showed in his eyes. “I shall have someone deliver a selection forthwith.”

“Nonsense, nonsense! Brandon my boy, you must give the young lady the guided tour!” Sir John cut in.

“Oh, it’s perfectly alright if-”

“Of course, it would be my pleasure.” She and the Colonel said, their sentences overlapping.

“That would be lovely but only if you’re sure Colonel?” She amended, still giving him a means of escape if he so chose.

“Yes, of course, I am sure.”

They quickly made arrangements for her visit to Delaford, Sir John had tried to insist she borrow his carriage which she instead managed to negotiate down to a horse. She was to meet the Colonel at his estate that Friday afternoon, not but two days hence and despite her best efforts Evelyn was not completely able to suppress her smile as she walked back into the cottage.

-----

When Evelyn rejoined her family and Mr Willoughby in the sitting room, she found the man reciting Shakespeare with Marianne. Her sister was clearly becoming more enamoured with the gentleman by the second. When he revealed a pocket copy of the very same sonnets Marianne had read numerous times herself, Evelyn believed her sister would have married the gentleman on the spot.

Willoughby left soon after, promising to return the next day, much to Marianne’s delight. 

Evelyn, still giddy from her interaction with the Colonel, missed the start of the growing discontent between Elinor and Marianne, as they stood just outside the front door with Marianne leaning on Evelyn for support.

“Another meeting will ascertain his views on nature and romantic attachments and then you will have nothing left to talk about and the relationship will be over.” While humorous, Elinor’s sarcasm was unlikely to sit well with their sister given the subject matter.

“I suppose I have erred against decorum. I should have been dull or spiritless or talked only of the state of the roads.”

“No, but Mr Willoughby can be in no doubt of your enthusiasm for him.” Evelyn’s eyes were moving from one sister to the other hoping that they would go no further than mildly hurtful sarcasm.

“Why should he doubt it? Why should I hide my regard?”

“No particular reason, only that we know so little of him.” A growing part of Evelyn would like to throttle Elinor at that moment for they both knew it was ill advised to antagonise Marianne in such a way.

“Time alone does not determine intimacy. Seven years would be insufficient to make some people acquainted with each other, and seven days can be more than enough for others.”

“Or seven hours, in this case.”

“I feel I know Mr Willoughby already.” Marianne said, her optimism unlikely to be deterred with the gentleman so fresh on her mind. “If I had more shallow feelings, I could perhaps conceal them as you do.”

“Marianne, that is both unfair and deeply untrue.” Evelyn said, now that the spat had definitely gone too far.

“I’m sorry Elinor, I did not mean-”

“Don’t trouble yourself Marianne.” Elinor’s voice was completely flat as she went back inside, clearly hurt.

Marianne tugged on Evelyn’s arm in an attempt to go after their sister but Evelyn held firm.

“You are not wrong for your feelings, nor for the speed at which they developed, one cannot control one’s heart.” Evelyn began, her voice soft and hopefully sure enough to pierce through Marianne’s stubbornness. “But this notion you have, whereby people only possess the depth of emotion they display outwardly will no doubt damage your future relationships. I find it is usually worth taking a closer look at people before rendering judgement.” 

Her point made, Evelyn brought Marianne back inside and made sure she was once again comfortably installed on the settee before searching for the eldest Dashwood.

She found Elinor in their room, sitting on the floor with her back ramrod straight, collecting the various pieces of damaged clothing from the armoire. Evelyn knelt beside her and began sorting the damaged articles into two piles, those that can be saved and those which are destined to be used as material for other garments.

“If you plan to tell me that she did not in fact mean what she said, then kindly do not trouble yourself.” Elinor said, succinctly.

“No, I plan to tell you that you cannot protect her from everything, least of all herself.”

“So I am to do nothing?” Elinor questioned, turning her exasperation on the sister she had thought would agree with her on such matters. “Should I simply watch her pour all of herself into this man, whom I remind you we have had only two interactions with, and hope that he is who she wishes him to be?”

“It is her life, Elinor.” She said, keeping her tone even and voice soft. “Should things turn sour then it is still her mistake to make, all we can do is ready ourselves to support her should she have her heart broken. Besides, it is early days yet, we do not yet know how things will fall.”

“You cannot be serious, you actually think that merely watching is acceptable?” Elinor asked, incredulously.

“I think that should we wish for her to confide in us, in the event she needs help, then sarcastic jabs designed to make light of her feelings is far from the way to go about this.” 

Seeing that this conversation was quickly becoming unproductive, Evelyn stood and left the room with her pile of sewing. Leaving Elinor the time she needed to calm down.

-----

Brandon

It was well into the evening now, and Brandon was nursing a brandy in his study. Perhaps, he thought, it was time to give up on his feelings for Miss Marianne. It had always been quite plain that she did not feel the same as he, and that the constant pushing from John and Mrs Jennings only worsened her impression of him.

At this point he wasn’t even sure if his feelings were for the woman herself or if her similarities to his Eliza were what was truly drawing him to her. He had to acknowledge that the two shared a likeness in temperament if not in appearance, they both had a flair for dramatics and a deep passion for music. Their greatest similarity however, and the root of his affection, was their freedom in expressions of emotion.

Miss Marianne did indeed share several qualities with his lost love, but ultimately, she was not Eliza and it was unfair to both her and himself for him to entertain these feelings any longer. For he would never be able to stop likening the two, and one day he would notice the differences. Should those differences then dim his feelings for Miss Marianne then how could he ever honestly profess to love her and not the memory he sees in her.

It was time, he thought, to let Eliza’s memory rest. After all, if he truly wished to honor Eliza’s wishes then he must refocus his efforts in tracking down her daughter. He had given his ward permission to visit one of her friends in Bath once she’d turned sixteen but he had not heard from her in almost seven months now. The supposed friend she had been staying with was refusing to tell him of her location nor her wellbeing, leaving him greatly troubled. He had sent yet another request only that morn, this time in addition to another letter addressed to the girl’s father, hopefully this time things would bear fruit.

As he went to place his now empty glass on the seldom used drinks cart in the corner, he caught sight of the vase of camellias which were now starting to wilt. He was immediately reminded of the bouquet he’d gifted Miss Marianne that afternoon, reinforcing his resolve to let go of any lingering attachment to the lady. Instead, he turned his thoughts to another interaction he’d had with an entirely different Dashwood that day.

He did not know Miss Evelyn overly well, although he knew her better than the other Dashwoods, save Miss Marianne. He quickly stopped himself, having once again conflated Miss Marianne with Eliza. No, Miss Evelyn was in fact the only member of the family he was properly acquainted with really. He realised that despite spending more time with the young lady than the other Dashwoods, thanks to the now regular hunts they went on with John, he still knew very little of her. From their previous interactions he knew Miss Evelyn to be noticeably quieter than the rest of her family, he believed she was simply more reserved, as the lady had not seemed nervous when talking to himself or others.

As Brandon finally made his way to bed, he decided he should like to better get to know Miss Evelyn. After all, his friends were military men and were spread far and wide, other than John, it would be nice to have another closer to home.

Chapter Text

Evelyn

Dawn had only just broken on that Friday morning and Evelyn had already been up for at least an hour. Honestly, she was acting as excitable as Marianne and Margaret. Thus far she had been laying in her cot bed trying and failing to go back to sleep. Sighing, she gave up, untangling herself from the cocoon of blankets always proved irritating , but it was a far lesser evil than freezing to death. The patching she’d done, particularly around the window had helped significantly , but the house was still cold given their need to ration the coal.

Evelyn glanced over at Marianne and Elinor to find both still sound asleep, tucked under the thick woollen blanket Evelyn had bought. She had bought six of the things, originally intending for everyone to have one, including Tom and Betsy, but she had ended up giving her own to Elinor and Marianne after she heard them shivering one night. She did not mind though; it was thanks to the deer hunting with Sir John and the Colonel that she had afforded the blankets in the first place, after selling the hides. Indeed, the meat had taken a great deal of pressure from their finances and had stopped Mama complaining about the lack of beef.

Given that she did not need to set off for Delaford for several hours, yet Evelyn utilised the rare moments of quiet for some reading. She made it through the first fifty or so pages of Robinson Crusoe before any of the other Dashwoods arose for the day. Evelyn tried to continue but once Marianne and Margaret were awake maintaining focus quickly became an unwinnable battle. Setting the book down Evelyn returned to their room to ready herself for the day choosing her shooting attire as she would be riding today.

When Evelyn re-emerged she was met with several confused looks from the rest of her family.

“Evelyn, if you plan on going off somewhere do remember to come back before Willoughby is due.” Marianne called as she flitted about adjusting her hair and redoing the ties of her dress, probably not for the first time.

“Marianne, may I remind you that I will be visiting the Colonel’s hothouse. I will likely be gone most of the afternoon.” Evelyn replied, causing all the other Dashwood women to look at her in surprise.

“And when were you planning on informing us of this?” Mama’s question held a reprimanding tone, one Evelyn most definitely did not deserve.

“I did inform you.” Evelyn said, trying to keep the frustration from colouring her voice. “Both yesterday and the day before when I made said arrangements.”

There was a beat of silence as Evelyn’s family looked to one another to see if any of them possessed any memory of this.

“I told you all yesterday over breakfast, I tried to tell you again before lunch , but you were all so focused on Marianne and Mr Willoughby that you apparently didn’t listen.” Evelyn sighed, this had not been the first time something like this had happened, and sadly, she doubted it would be the last.

The other Dashwoods were guiltily looking anywhere but at her now, even Elinor, whom Evelyn had hoped would have done better after their talk under the tree, but alas it seemed that her family had once again focused on things they deemed more important. No longer wishing to be around the others, Evelyn went outside to the small garden shed where she had been preparing the pots she would need when she obtained the cuttings from the Colonel. Once planted, they would need to be moved into the cottage long enough for them to take root at which point they can be properly installed in the garden.

Evelyn quickly realised that she didn’t have nearly enough preparations left to occupy her time, and now that she had left the house the thought of going back in seemed particularly unappealing. She’d even readied a saddlebag with her horticulture journal and a large jar to transport the cuttings in. Accepting defeat she left the tiny shed and began what became a long meandering walk through the Devonshire countryside.

-----

She only returned home when the sun reached its peak and then just to collect her bag before leaving for Barton Park. It was when she reached the stables of the estate that she began to regret her excessively long walk, her legs were sore , and she had underestimated the weight of her journal resulting in an aching shoulder. The relief of being on horseback, her bag now properly attached to the saddle, was almost instant and desperately needed. She even found the bouncing gait of the horse helped loosen the cramping muscles in her legs.

Evelyn had only caught the occasional, far-off glimpse of Delaford before now. She had been able to tell that the house was impressive, but this was the first time she could truly appreciate it. It was Jacobean in style, but that was where the similarities to Barton Park ended. Delaford boasted a far more interesting silhouette, with towers at each corner of the huge, three-storey, main house and a clock tower centred over the main doors. From her vantage point, Evelyn could clearly see the lake to one side of the grounds and even from here she could tell that the grounds of Delaford were more than the empty lawns of Barton Park.

The ride to Delaford was not a long one, resulting in Evelyn dismounting the horse without catching sight of the master of the house. They had said afternoon but given her eagerness it could only be one o’clock at the latest, perhaps she was too early.

The rich baritone that came from behind startled her slightly.

“Good afternoon Miss Evelyn.”

Whipping around, unable to keep the wide smile from her face, Evelyn replied.

 “Good afternoon Colonel, I hope I’m not earlier than expected.”

“Not at all, you’re perfectly on time.”

Their greetings exchanged the two wound their way over to a large single storey building situated amongst the manicured lawns and flowerbeds. It would have been easy to tell that this was the hothouse even without the Colonel as her guide. The many tall arched windows lining the walls and the domed glass roof were perfectly designed to let as much light in as possible.

The Colonel opened the door for her and she felt her smile stretch further, she’d dearly missed the tranquil warmth of a hothouse, the one at Norland had acted as something of a refuge for her. 

Stepping fully into the hothouse Evelyn closed her eyes and felt complete, perfect, serenity wash over her.

-----

Brandon

Shutting the hothouse door Brandon turned back to the young lady to find her standing completely still. He only just managed to stop himself from speaking when he saw the look of utter bliss written across the features of her upturned face as she stood bathed in the midday sun.

Brandon found himself enraptured. He didn’t dare move nor make a single sound lest he break the moment. His eyes were drawn unerringly to Evelyn’s face, he found that he’d never really taken it in before, his full attention always elsewhere. But here, now, he took in the delicate arch of her brow, the long pale lashes resting on her cheeks and her soft lips which currently hung just slightly open.

He wasn’t sure how long he spent studying the young woman but the next thing he knew her eyes had opened and he was gazing into their dazzling cornflower blue hue as the light danced through them. His heart skipped. He hadn’t an idea of what expression he was wearing, only that he didn’t break from it until Evelyn spoke.

“My apologies Colonel, I don’t know what came over me,” she said a blush colouring her cheeks.

“No apologies necessary, Miss Evelyn. I am happy it is to your liking.” He replied, finally snapping from his stupor.

They spent the following few hours discussing the varieties of plants he had on display, Evelyn taking cuttings from the few species which could survive outside. He found himself quite unprepared for the amount of knowledge she had in the subject, the journal she brought contained an impressive amount of information, especially for something she had clearly written herself. While hothouses were a popular thing to possess among the gentry, it was rare for their owners to tend to them themselves, however. He had thought himself somewhat of an outlier when he’d picked up the hobby upon inheriting Delaford five years prior and perhaps he still was but it was nice to find someone who shared his interest.

He had enjoyed his time with the lady far more than he had anticipated, he’d initially agreed to the visit due to John’s interference, and later decided it would at least make for a good distraction or even an opportunity to make a new, proper, friend. Things had somehow turned out vastly different, Evelyn possessed a dry and unexpected wit that had him laughing in a way he hadn’t in a long time. And now as he walked her back to the stables he found himself searching for a reason for her to stay.

“Thank you for today Miss Evelyn,” he said after he’d hitched her saddlebag onto the horse, “your expertise has been most helpful.”

“It is I who should be thanking you Colonel,” she replied looking up at him with the light dancing through her eyes again, “Barton Cottage should finally gain some colour.”

“Miss Evelyn, I don’t suppose you would mind lending me your green thumb, on a regular basis perhaps,” he started, the words feeling like they were tumbling from his mouth, “the hibiscus in particular seems to be set on giving me trouble.”

His heart sped slightly as he waited for her answer.

“I would love to.” Her words were so quick he almost missed them, but the delicate blush staining her cheeks told him he hadn’t imagined them.

“Wonderful.” He cut in not wanting her to qualify or expand upon that statement for some reason.

“May I?” He asked, indicating to the horse.

“Uh, yes, thank you Colonel.” 

At her acceptance he moved to stand behind her and gently placed a hand either side of her waist before lifting her to the saddle.

She rode off soon thereafter, but not before they had reminded one another that they would see each other again in only hours for dinner at Barton Park. As he watched her figure get smaller and smaller he wondered at his relationship with the young lady. Not two days ago he had finally decided to let Eliza’s memory rest and his feelings towards Miss Marianne with it, and now here he was developing new ones towards Evelyn.

He was then struck with the realisation that at some point over the afternoon she had become ‘Evelyn’, not ‘Miss Evelyn’, which was perhaps the greatest suggestion that his former attentions to Miss Marianne had not been completely genuine. Regardless, he vowed not to allow himself to get so quickly swept up by said emotions this time, lest he appear to be some cad with a taste for younger women.

As he entered the main house, he found a smile lingering about his mouth as a pair of dazzling blue eyes once again occupied his mind.

-----

Evelyn

Evelyn had never been so grateful for the walk between Barton Park and the cottage before, as it gave her cheeks an excuse for their flushed appearance which did not seem willing to abate. She arrived home to find the rest of her family with the addition of Willoughby enjoying the unexpectedly warm late September afternoon. They exchanged only short greetings, using the need to get her cuttings properly planted as a convenient excuse, which to her credit was not entirely untrue.

The planting process did not take as long as she had expected and soon she had moved her new collection onto the windowsill in the kitchen she had asked Betsy if she could use. In this spot they should receive enough light and warmth to take root at which point she could install them into the garden.

Her tasks done, Evelyn went to change into more suitable attire for dinner, as it was now only an hour or so before the carriage collected them. The earthy smell of the potting soil reached her nostrils as she washed the dirt from her hands, she felt her smile widening as her thoughts once again returned to the hothouse. The time with the Colonel that afternoon was quickly becoming one of her favourite memories. They had gotten to know one another quite well over the few hours spent in one another's company, and Evelyn had a new favourite sound in the Colonel’s laughter.

Now clean, she selected a lavender cotton gown with small flowers embroidered in silver thread; the dress was one of her favourites if not one of the finest she brought from Norland. As she did the ties at her back, Evelyn allowed her heart to lift slightly with hope, hope that now her feelings were just a tiny bit less one-sided now.

Her elation only seemed to increase as the carriage arrived to collect them for dinner, and for once it seems that she didn’t go completely unnoticed with her family. Evelyn headed to the carriage first as Marianne, Margaret and Mama were, of course, not yet ready despite spending the entire day at home. Elinor however, was hot on her heels and used the otherwise empty carriage to her advantage.

“So am I to take it from your barely contained glee that your visit to the Colonel’s estate went well?”

“It was wonderful, it felt like for the first time he truly looked at me.” Evelyn said, a quiet happiness colouring her expression as she looked down at her hands. “We got to know one another a lot better, he feels more like a real person now, not like the idealised man my imagination was dreaming up.”

“I’m happy for you, dearest,” Elinor said as she reached over and laid her hand atop Evelyns’, “and I am sorry for my part in forgetting you since Mr Willoughby’s dramatic arrival.”

“It’s alright, Elinor, I don’t blame any of you.”

“It’s not, and you should” Elinor said just as the remainder of their party opened the door and joined them in the carriage.

-----

Elinor

That evening at Barton Park saw them playing various card games while Marianne and Mr Willoughby sat off in a corner so that Marianne may draw his silhouette. But for once, since the gentleman’s appearance in their lives, Elinor was instead focused on the interactions between Evelyn and the Colonel. The two were currently trouncing Sir John and Mrs Jennings at Whist, and, Elinor noted, the Colonel’s now customary glances at Marianne had completely ceased. Instead, he seemed far more focused on the interactions in front of him, his usual grave countenance also seemed to have lifted as he laughed at Evelyn’s quick tongue on several occasions.

As Elinor watched the pair she hoped that things would go as Evelyn wished. Her sister deserved to be happy, she was exceptionally kind and too often overlooked even within her own family, especially in her own family. Elinor felt guilt rising in her once again as she thought of how Evelyn had once again gone unnoticed. After this morning's incident Elinor was determined to do better, a resolve which only strengthened when she had gone into their room that afternoon and finally taken proper note of their sleeping arrangements. While the bed she and Marianne shared was not the most comfortable, it had to be far better than the cot Evelyn had, at least the bed did have a proper mattress if a bit lumpy. It was the blankets that had really brought her clarity; the thick wool coverings were a little itchy but made things infinitely warmer, and Evelyn was the only one in the household without one. Evelyn’s hunting had brought them not only the blankets but also a steady supply of venison, easing their finances immensely.

Elinor would need to do a lot better. She also felt it would be necessary to point out all these things to the rest of their family as they were unlikely to notice them on their own. Thinking of the other Dashwoods outside Evelyn, she often worried that their romantic temperaments had a negative impact on their judgement but it was how they could get so caught up in their own emotions that they became quite selfish which Elinor genuinely disliked.

But now as Elinor looked at her sister’s laughing face, and the man who seemed intent on bringing that laughter out, she prayed that he was everything she deserved.

Chapter Text

Evelyn

The weather stayed unexpectedly mild over the next month, Evelyn had successfully transferred all her new plants to their respective positions in the garden and was confident they should all survive the winter. She’d made sure to resume Margaret’s archery lessons, as Evelyn felt she had neglected the youngest Dashwood with all the excitement since their move to Devonshire. Then again Margaret had been well occupied between the frequent outings to Barton Park and seemed content to watch Marianne and Willoughby whenever the two were together.

Outside the time spent with just her family, Evelyn had had one of the best months of her life. Her visits to Delaford had indeed become a regular occurrence, between her trips to the hothouse, the gatherings at Barton Park and their hunting it had become rarer for her to spend a day without seeing the Colonel at least once. At this point Evelyn felt that at the very least she could now happily consider the man a friend. Whether or not they were becoming something more was still unclear to her, however.

She thought back to her most recent visit. They had once again been working in the hothouse, still tending to the rather stubborn hibiscus, when their conversation had turned personal.

“Miss Evelyn, it occurs to me that, despite our time tending to them, I still don’t know your favourite flower.” He’d said, she remembered the way his voice had halted as though nervous and how the dappled light had gilded his light brown hair.

“Wisteria,” she’d answered, almost instantly, “it’s the only cutting I brought with me from Norland, and yours, Colonel?”

“Honeysuckle.” He’d gained a certain gleam in his eyes upon hearing her answer, one she was beginning to believe she had imagined, as nothing seemed to have come from the conversation as of yet.

Evelyn had yet to determine what the Colonel now felt towards Marianne, she believed that his feelings had changed certainly. The hopeful parts of her heart told her that he no longer had any attachment to her sister, and had maybe developed feelings for Evelyn herself. But still, she couldn’t shake the nagging doubts, the ones that told her it was only due to Willoughby’s entrance that he turned elsewhere, and that she was just a convenient replacement.

—--

Sadly, Marianne seemed determined to tarnish her good mood today. That morning her sister had been seen joyriding with Mr Willoughby, which in and of itself was bad enough, add to that the speed at which they were going through Barton village and you end up with several angry residents. Mrs Jennings was the one who informed them about Marianne’s conduct, indeed Evelyn had never witnessed the woman show anger before today.

Worse was that Marianne seemed completely unresponsive to anyone’s criticism of her and Mr Willoughby’s actions.

“If there were any true impropriety in my behaviour, I should be sensible of it, Elinor!” Their stubborn mule of a sister began.

“It has already exposed you to some very impertinent remarks. Do you not begin to doubt your own discretion?” It was clear that Elinor was not going to get through, but that stubborn streak was present in all the Dashwood sisters it seems.

“Enough, Marianne!” Evelyn seldom got angry, or raised her voice, but Marianne had become rather adept at inciting it as of late. “I know you care little for the opinions of others, but I assure you, you would if you had run someone over today.”

“Oh, don’t be so dramatic Evelyn. We were perfectly safe-”

“Have you truly become so obsessed with your own enjoyment of life that you’ve stopped considering others?” Evelyn couldn’t believe the blasé attitude Marianne was showing, and it pushed her ire to new heights, causing her tone to flatten and her voice to go cold. “I don’t care how good a driver you believe Mr Willoughby to be, it was luck that prevented you from causing serious harm today. I have never before felt such disappointment in you.”

Marianne took a step back as though physically struck, tears welled in her eyes but Evelyn’s remained hard. She would not cave to her sister’s tears, Marianne needed to see that her behaviour had been unacceptable, and if hurt feelings were the result, then so be it, it was far better than the alternative. Marianne turned on her heel and ran back into the cottage, no doubt to cry to Mama about how cruel she felt Evelyn had been.

“I worry that Mr Willoughby is having a negative effect on her.” Elinor said, stepping closer to Evelyn as the latter tried to calm herself.

“I have no doubt that he encourages it but don’t pretend that it was entirely his influence.” Evelyn said, letting out her lingering anger on a long breath, her face upturned to the sky.

Before Elinor could reply they heard hoofbeats approaching. Schooling her features, Evelyn turned to see the Colonel riding towards them. She felt the tension in her shoulders ease a little at his unexpected appearance, as though his mere presence lessened her problems.

“Morning,” the Colonel called, the cheer in his voice further helping pull Evelyn to more pleasant emotions.

“Good morning, Colonel.” Evelyn and Elinor said in unison, both attempting to keep the very recent argument with Marianne from showing on their faces.

“Miss Dashwood, Miss Evelyn, I come to issue an invitation.” He said, dismounting and coming over to stand before them. “A picnic, on my estate at Delaford.”

Evelyn thought she could just make out a smile directed at her from Elinor’s direction, but with her attention so focused on the Colonel she couldn’t really say.

“If you would care to join us on Thursday next.” He continued, nervously gripping the rim of his hat. “Mrs Jennings’ daughter and her husband are travelling up especially.”

“We should be delighted, Colonel.” Evelyn finally managed in response, she’d thought that by now she would have gotten past the flustered phase but apparently not.

“And you may of course let Miss Marianne know the invitation includes Mr Willoughby.” As he spoke, Evelyn searched his face for any possible sign that his feelings for Marianne still persisted.

She found none, he simply gave her one of his small, sweet, barely there smiles.

—--

Brandon

Mr Willoughby arrived at Barton Cottage shortly after he’d issued his invitation. Miss Marianne could only be glimpsed given the speed at which she darted down the path towards the gentleman. The pair were off in Willoughby’s high-perch phaeton soon after.

“Your sister seems very happy.” He said, feeling quite relieved that he in fact felt nothing for Miss Marianne.

“Yes, she does.” There was a tightness to Evelyn’s voice that he hadn’t heard since their first few meetings. “Thank you again Colonel, I shall go relay your invitation to Mama.”

Evelyn was off up towards the cottage before he could say anything further. He was suddenly struck with the idea that she had thought him still infatuated with her sister, and that was the reason for her upset.

“You know Colonel,” Miss Dashwood said, still standing next to him, “I have found that to the untrained eye, Evelyn can appear to conceal her emotions.”

Miss Dashwood held his full attention now, hopefully she could enlighten him as to what exactly he had said wrong.

“But the reality is quite the opposite, she’s as obvious with them as Marianne, but unlike our sister Evelyn shows her affections in thousands of small ways every day. Something we, her family, have taken for granted.”

Miss Dashwood turned to face him fully now, but he dared not speak.

“My point, Colonel, is that Evelyn deserves someone who will not overlook her. So if you do still harbor any feelings towards Marianne, then please, don’t use Evelyn as an alternative.”

“Miss Dashwood, I believe I should make a confession. I once loved a lady very like Miss Marianne, they shared the same impulsive sweetness of temper. When I met Miss Marianne, she reminded me of her almost instantly. My affections towards her were not genuine, something I realised some time ago. Miss Evelyn however, has always been entirely her own person to me.”

Not yet ready to see Miss Dashwood’s reaction, and possible disapproval, he mounted his horse and set off home.

He couldn’t say he was surprised by Miss Dashwood’s conclusions, or that Evelyn likely shared them given the timing of her exit. His regard for Miss Marianne had been obvious, and given the lady’s equally obvious rejection, he understood why one may think he was only using Evelyn.

This picnic was his attempt to negate those thoughts entirely. He’d been wanting to do something for a while now but hadn’t any clue what until Evelyn had told him her favourite flowers. At present his staff were busy preparing the area surrounding the gazebo for Thursday’s festivities. The gazebo itself was to be the focal point, or at least the huge mature wisteria that almost covered it was.

—--

Evelyn

Thursday had finally arrived, and Evelyn found herself trapped by her older sister. They had arrived at Delaford a little less than half an hour ago and had been whisked away by Mrs Jennings almost instantly. Evelyn had only managed a single brief greeting with the Colonel and after what Elinor had told her she was rather desperate to talk to the gentleman properly.

A few days ago, just after receiving the Colonel’s invitation, Elinor had pulled her out to the archery tree and told her of the conversation she’d had with the man after Evelyn had left. She had never considered that it was his feelings for Marianne that were untrue, and now she possessed a desperate, ardent hope that he could feel the way she did.

But alas, here she was, surrounded by Mrs Jennings and her relatives with little hope of escape in the near future.

“Imagine my surprise, Mrs Dashwood, when Charlotte and her lord and master appeared with our cousin Lucy.” The older woman was in top form today, Evelyn was becoming a little worried she would run out of air. “The last person I expected to see.”

“She probably came to join in the fun, for there are no funds for such luxuries at home, poor thing.” Mrs Jennings at least had the decency to lower her voice for that comment, not that it had made a difference.

“I’d not seen you for so long. Dear Mrs Jennings, I couldn’t resist the opportunity.” Miss Lucy said, her voice much softer than the rest of her family’s, something Evelyn’s ears were becoming quite grateful for.

“Oh, you sly thing!” Mrs Charlotte Palmer on the other hand possessed a set of pipes which could only rival her mother’s. “It was the Misses Dashwoods she wanted to see, not Delaford, Mama.”

“I have heard nothing but ‘Miss Dashwood this’, ‘Miss Dashwood that’ for I don’t know how long.” Mrs Palmer continued, with the same uncaring geniality as her mother. “And what do you think of them now you do see them, Miss Lucy?”

“My mother has talked of nothing else in her letters since you came to Barton Cottage, Mrs Dashwood.” Mrs Palmer didn’t give anyone a chance to answer her previous question before turning to her husband.  “Mr Palmer, are they not the very creatures she described?”

“Nothing like.” Evelyn raised a single brow at the rude reply from the dour man. Although, she was inclined to give him a little grace seeing as his temperament seemed so at odds with his wife’s.

“Mr Palmer, do you know, you are quite rude today.” Mrs Palmer was obviously rather used to her husband making such comments and seemed inclined to laugh them off as if they were jokes.

Evelyn tuned out of the conversation at this point, it was unlikely there would be a chance to get a word in edge-wise anyway. Instead, she cast her gaze over to where Marianne was waiting for Willoughby.

They had yet to make up since their argument. Marianne still believed she’d done nothing wrong and was set on trying to get the rest of their family to side with her. It was not working. In response, she had gotten even closer to Mr Willoughby and was getting more selfish by the day.

As if she had summoned him, Mr Willoughby’s ridiculous phaeton rounded the corner. The high-perch version of the already dubious carriage made it even more unstable than the standard kind. The result was a fast moving death-trap that went up on two wheels for every corner, the danger of riding in one was probably what Marianne liked most about the awful thing.

As was polite they gathered round to greet Willoughby. Evelyn hung back to take precious few seconds to ease the tension in her shoulders, lest she say something she’d later regret.

“May I beg a seat beside you Miss Dashwood?” Evelyn rejoined the world just as Miss Lucy Steele made her request and Elinor nodded in agreement.

“I’ve so longed to make your acquaintance,” she continued, “I’ve heard nothing but the highest praise of you.”

Evelyn couldn’t help the slight suspicion she felt, likely left over paranoia from London, as she wondered why Miss Steele was so intent on Elinor.

“I would be delighted,” Elinor didn’t share her paranoia it seems, “But Sir John and Mrs Jennings are too excessive in their compliments.”

Evelyn, deciding that she was reading too much into things, began to look for the Colonel. She spied the gentleman going over the preparations with one of his staff.

“I’m sure everything is in hand Colonel,” she said as she approached, “at some point you will have to leave people alone long enough to actually carry out your orders.”

“Teasing me already, are you, Miss Evelyn?” His smile and soft eyes betrayed his enjoyment of their jesting.

“Only lightly. Besides, you’re neglecting your guests.” She said peeking up at him through her eyelashes. “I can assure you they feel bereft of your company.”

“Ah, well then I shall have to rectify the situation with haste.” He said, not making a single move to the rest of his guests.

Looking up at him now Evelyn was sorely tempted to just ask him the question that had been plaguing her the last few days. But now was hardly the time or place, she had no idea who was in earshot and she didn’t much fancy making a spectacle of herself.

Oh, sod it.

“Colonel, Elinor told me of your conversation the other day and I must ask, was it true? Do you truly feel nothing for my sister?”

There, she’d said it. It was out, hanging in the air between them.

“Every word, I-”

The Colonel’s reply was cut short as Sir John’s call alerted them to a messenger headed for Delaford at some speed.

The messenger quickly dismounted and handed over a letter to the Colonel, who gave her a glance before opening the correspondence. She watched his brow furrow and his shoulders tense as he read it over.

“My horse,” he called to one of the stable hands, “I must away to London.”

Evelyn could hear Sir John and the other guests’ exclamations but she only had eyes for the Colonel in that moment.

“It’s important?” she asked the conflicted looking man before her.

“Yes.”

“Then this can wait.” I can wait were the words she did not say.

“Thank you.” He said just as the stable hand returned with his horse.

“Forgive me.” This he called to the rest of the guests gathered on the gravel drive before riding with all speed out of the estate.

Chapter Text

Evelyn

“Frailty, thy name is Brandon.”

They were sitting on the grassy slope outside the cottage. Evelyn was still reeling from the Colonel’s sudden departure, and was most certainly not appreciative of Mr Willoughby’s comments.

“There are some people who can’t bear a party of pleasure.” Evelyn felt her eyes whip over to Marianne. They couldn’t possibly think that the Colonel had simply fled a party, surely her sister had not lost so many of her wits to make such an ignorant statement.

“You are a wicked pair.” Mama said without the true reprimand Evelyn had been hoping to hear. “Colonel Brandon will be missed.”

Evelyn could feel Elinor’s eyes snap to her, again, as they had been since the event itself. She once again chose to ignore her sister, instead focusing on the apples she was peeling.

“Why?” Evelyn froze at Willoughby’s whiny question. “When he is the sort of man that everyone speaks well of and no one remembers to talk to.”

Evelyn could practically feel one of Willoughby’s obnoxiously shiny riding boots stomp down on her very last nerve.

“Mr Willoughby,” her tone had frosted over once again, “I can assure you that the Colonel will indeed be missed. If you would like a reason I have several, first, unlike you he does not feel the constant need to bolster himself by insulting those who’ve only ever shown him kindness.”

She remained still as she spoke, still peeling the apples at an even pace, the white knuckled grip on her knife the only visible indicator of her anger.

“Second, unlike you Mr Willoughby, the Colonel does not flaunt his good qualities, instead he allows them to quietly show themselves, which incidentally is how you know there is any actual substance to them.”

She was on her last apple now.

“And third, unlike you the Colonel does not place his own momentary pleasure so far above the wellbeing of others that he becomes a danger to them.”

Having finished her peeling she stood and finally took in the wide gaping mouths around her.

“You can do far, far better.” She said to Marianne as she entered the cottage.

—--

Evelyn was distinctly ignoring the rest of her family after verbally eviscerating Mr Willoughby. She was now releasing the rest of her ire by making the archery tree look like a pincushion. Her ears pricked at the soft footsteps approaching her, probably Elinor, Mama did not often handle conflict, Marianne likely wanted nothing to do with her and Margaret would probably follow Marianne’s lead.

“You’re quite frightening you know,” Elinor said, coming to stand at her side, “I think Mr Willoughby has developed grey hair.”

“If you wish for me to apologise to the odious man, you shall be waiting a very long time.”

“Whilst I may think that you were rather harsh,” Evelyn tensed, causing her shot to go wide and sink into the bank, “given the direction of Mr Willoughby’s comments I can understand your reaction.”

Evelyn sighed and finally lowered the bow, un-knocking the arrow as she did. “Only a few weeks ago I cautioned you about being overly-protective and now not only do I see you were right, but I have probably pulled them closer given Marianne’s need for rebellion.”

“Probably, but I do believe that it was inevitable ever since he carried her all the way home.” Elinor said, the two of them now sitting side-by-side on the grass. “I’d hoped that she would come to see the flaws in both Mr Willoughby’s character and her own conduct, but her recent behaviour has thoroughly dashed them.”

The two remained huddled in their spot together for a good while, neither of them looking forward to going back inside, Evelyn least of all. When the sun began to dip and the sky darken, Elinor had to practically drag her back inside.

Evelyn was expecting Marianne’s tirade upon seeing her but she had most certainly not been expecting her sister to reveal Mr Willoughby’s plans to propose. She felt a surge of defeat, once Marianne had tied herself to the man her sister would be stuck. Now all she could do was pray she was completely wrong about his character, but the sinking feeling in her stomach said otherwise.

—--

The next morning saw all the Dashwoods in church, save Marianne who was being proposed to by an insufferable cad as Evelyn sat on the uncomfortable pew feeling utterly powerless. Mama had mistaken Evelyn’s dejected mood as regret for her words to Mr Willoughby yesterday. Indeed, Mama was far more focused on the propriety of speaking to a guest in such a way, and had evidently dismissed said guest’s inciting comment.

As they now walked up the path to the cottage, Evelyn’s dread reaching its peak, her steps feeling like they were being weighed down. As they were to reach the doorway Marianne’s sobs could be heard, causing Evelyn’s dread to be momentarily replaced with confusion.

“What is wrong dearest?” Mama’s concern mirroring that on all their faces. “Willoughby? What is the matter?”

Evelyn hadn’t noticed the man as he stood before their fireplace, guilt colouring his expression. “I am s-”

“Forgive me, Mrs Dashwood.” Willoughby said, with a small respectful bow. “I am sent… That is to say, Lady Allen has exercised the privilege of riches upon a dependent cousin and is sending me to London.”

Willoughby’s eyes shifted between them, never quite making contact with their own, causing Evelyn’s suspicion to raise. There was something the gentleman was omitting.

“When? This Morning?” Mama’s tone was beginning to become frantic.

“Almost this moment.”

“What a disappointment. But your business will not detain you from us for long I hope?”

“You’re very kind, but I have no idea of returning immediately to Devonshire.” Evelyn couldn’t help the small selfish part of her that was rather happy with Mr Willoughby’s statement. “I am seldom invited to Allenham more than once a year.”

“For shame, Willoughby. Can you wait for an invitation from Barton Cottage?”

Willoughby reply was halted and stuttering, as though holding back a great deal of emotion.

“Well, my engagements at present are of such a nature… that is to say I dare not flatter my… It is folly to linger in this manner.” He said, moving towards the door. “I will not torment myself further.”

With that Willoughby stormed from the cottage, leaving a still sobbing Marianne and the other Dashwoods in shocked silence. Elinor and Mama went to comfort Marianne without delay, Evelyn remained unmoving beside the doorway, and Margaret had been sent to request tea for Marianne.

Her now inconsolable sister thwarted any attempts at comfort however, dashing up to their bedroom and requesting to be left alone.

Once they heard the door slam, and the sobbing continue, Mama, and Elinor began to speculate.

“They must have quarreled.” Elinor began, clearly looking for an explanation that was not Evelyn.

“That is unlikely.” Mama’s voice firmed as she was reminded of one possible reason behind Willoughby’s sudden departure. “Perhaps Mr Willoughby was made to feel so unwelcome that he felt it necessary to leave.”

Mama was giving Evelyn a very pointed look now.

“Mama, if this is indeed my doing then I shall, of course, apologise to Marianne.” Evelyn said, trying to sound more resolute than she felt. “But given that everyone else was there to soothe his damaged ego, of which I’ve no doubt you did, I believe Mr Willoughby does not care so much for my opinion.”

“Mama,” Elinor said, a contemplative look upon her face, “did Willoughby seem nervous to you, as he was talking of his reason for leaving?”

“Oh, Elinor, not you too. What devious motive could you be dreaming up?” Mama’s incredulous and dismissive question appeared only to harden Elinor’s determination.

“Mama, I can hardly give you a distinct suspicion, but his manner was almost guilty, not wounded, and since when has he been so secretive with anything?”

“I know you will think me biased against him, but I have to agree, Mama.” Evelyn said joining her sister in the centre of the room. “Do you really think that if it were because of me that Willoughby would not say something of the sort? Or even address me at all?”

“And I suppose you both think that he has been acting a part to your sister for all this time?” Mama stared up at them, her heartbreak for her closest daughter plain to see.

“No, he loves her, I’m sure.” Elinor had moved to sit beside their mother on the window bench now, leaving Evelyn standing alone.

“Of course! See, Evelyn, Elinor agrees!”

“Mama,” Evelyn began, shifting uncomfortably, “I too agree that they love each other, I just think that loving a person does not make them good for you.”

“Has he left her with any assurance of his return?” Elinor asked, filling the ensuing silence. “Cannot you ask her if he has proposed?”

“Certainly not! I cannot force a confidence from Marianne and nor should you.”

Mama strode from the room then and headed upstairs to be with Marianne.

“I shouldn’t worry, we will receive an answer to that question soon enough.” Evelyn said, slumping down heavily next to Elinor.

“How so?”

“Well, if he has not proposed to her then I anticipate that there is a finite amount of time left before her sorrow turns to anger, which will be directed at me.”

—--

Evelyn was startled awake that night. Her eyes flew open, to little use in the darkness.

“This is all because of you.” Evelyn felt herself freeze as Marianne’s voice, still raw from crying, came from above her.

As her eyes adjusted to the scant moonlight, she began to make out her sister’s shifting form. Marianne stood next to her cot, looming over her, Evelyn thought she could just make out the small glint of tears but she couldn’t be sure.

“You’ve ruined everything. HE’S GONE BECAUSE OF YOU!”

Marianne’s shout had most certainly woken everyone now, it had definitely roused Elinor who almost fell from the bed in her shock.

“HE LEFT BECAUSE OF THOSE AWFUL THINGS YOU SAID!” 

Marianne lunged at her then. Evelyn barely had time to shield her head and curl in on herself before blows were raining down on her.

It was utter chaos from then on. Evelyn just about heard Mama burst into the room between Marianne’s continued shouts and felt Elinor’s attempts to pull Marianne off of her.

While Marianne’s blows were almost comically ineffectual Evelyn felt the sharp sting of pain as the extra weight and jostling caused the leg of the cot to collapse, sending her crashing onto the floor. The momentary interruption gave Elinor and Mama a chance to restrain Marianne, Evelyn wasted no time getting to her feet and putting distance between herself and her crazed sister.

Catching her breath, Evelyn took in the scene before her. Someone had thought to light a candle, leaving the room bathed in a warm glow not at all fitting to the situation. Marianne had crumpled to the floor, her rage turning to sadness once more as she sobbed into Mama’s shoulder. Evelyn managed a quick nod when Elinor asked if she was ok and the eldest Dashwood had instead gone over to Margaret who was standing in the doorway, wide-eyed and fearful.

Evelyn slid down the wall as the adrenaline left her, she would doubtless have a few bruises to show for the incident but it would have been far worse if Marianne’s most strenuous hobby was not the pianoforte.

The sleeping arrangements for the rest of the night were decided quite quickly, Mama and Marianne would take Mama’s bed and Elinor would share with Margaret, who had yet to let go of Elinor’s Chemise. As Evelyn’s cot now sat at an angle on its remaining legs she would be occupying the settee for the rest of the night.

It took what seemed like hours for Evelyn to finally get back to sleep. She had never believed Marianne capable of such violence, her sister must genuinely hate her.

—--

It was clear that none of the Dashwoods had managed much sleep last night. Evelyn had risen with the dawn and made herself a simple breakfast before bundling up in no less than three coats before taking her little feast down to the little hollow in the archery tree. She stayed down there all morning, reading the rest of Robinson Crusoe. She only headed back towards the cottage when her stomach’s demands grew too loud to ignore.

Her intention had been to resupply and retreat back to her tree but Mama caught sight of her the second she entered the door. Evelyn had been swiftly taken by the arm and sat on the settee, cutting off her means of escape.

“Evelyn, given the events of last night…” Mama’s pause and inability to look her in the eyes were all signs that she wouldn’t like what she was about to hear. “And your sister’s need to be around her family during this trying time… I believe it would be best for you to stay at Barton Park for the time being.”

Evelyn felt her mouth drop open. 

“Mama you cannot be serious.” She said, but her mother’s gaze was stalwart and unflinching. “You mean to send me away, when I am not even the one who became violent.”

“I have already asked Sir John. He is sending the carriage to collect you before dinner. Elinor has packed for you.” That was all Mama said before leaving the room.

Evelyn sat in stunned silence. The vicious parts of her mind were telling her that this was just another example of her family choosing anyone other than her, again. When she saw Marianne’s form momentarily cross in front of the doorway Evelyn had to resist the urge to duck out of sight. It would have been unnecessary though, Marianne had a look of incensed focus and a pair of fabric shears in her hand.

Against her better judgement, Evelyn darted up to their room after her sister, just in time to see her bending over her shooting gear, shears open. Evelyn, once again ignoring the warning signals her brain was sending, wasted no time in closing the gap between her and her sister.

“Marianne, what do you think you’re doing?” Marianne had apparently been quite oblivious to her surroundings, for when Evelyn’s voice rang out she whipped around shears in hand.

Evelyn couldn’t stop the surprised cry of pain that escaped her lips as the shears whipped across her arm. The wound bled immediately and quite profusely, giving Elinor quite the scene when she entered the room with Evelyn’s gun case and bow in hand.

The room grew chaotic once again, Elinor called for Mama who looked as though she may faint when she caught sight of the blood dripping from Evelyn’s arm. At least this time, Marianne surrendered her shears without issue and left the room without a single word to any of them. Evelyn was the first to recover from her shock and set about bathing the wound, it stung but thankfully was not so deep as to be too serious. The cut was slightly jagged where the shears had torn rather than sliced, it would definitely scar but shouldn’t require stitches. Elinor reemerged with some dressings and helped her bandage the wound. Mama had gone, likely following after Marianne.

They’d devolved into silence once again, Elinor helped her repack the clothes Marianne had been attempting to destroy. Evelyn noted that it was all her favourites which had been on Marianne’s chopping block. Elinor helped bring her belongings to the entryway, all while Evelyn was trying, and failing, to not feel as though she were being tossed out.

Evelyn remained just outside the front door, perched on her suitcase. Mama came out to join her just as Sir John’s carriage came into view.

“Evelyn-”

“Don’t trouble yourself Mama, I no longer have any problems staying at Barton Park.”

With that single terse reply, Evelyn gathered her things and boarded the carriage without a single look back.

Chapter Text

Brandon

Brandon had arrived at the address of his ward’s location in London, still breathing a little hard from his hasty, overwrought journey to the capital. When she finally opened the door he was struck with the reality of her situation. His ward, Eliza Williams, was heavily pregnant. She looked about to give birth at any moment. The letter he had received only two days ago had told him of her condition but seeing her in this state was another matter entirely. He’d ridden through the night to make it there so quickly, only breaking enough for his horse, leaving him utterly drained and struggling to keep the images of the late Eliza during her final days from his mind.

It had been late when he’d arrived but he hadn’t wasted time in relocating Eliza to his own townhouse rather than the inn she’d been staying at. Once they’d gotten settled Eliza had finally opened up to him about the events leading up to her current predicament. She confessed that her intentions in visiting her friend in Bath had been to take advantage of the ailing health of her friend’s father to run amok. It was in Bath that she had met Mr John Willoughby, who seduced her. They had run away together in February, when Brandon had stopped hearing from her, and Eliza remained living with Willoughby until he abandoned her. Brandon’s blood had boiled as he thought of how the cad had been in Devonshire, all the while Eliza was left alone with no means of reaching the man. To think of the way Willoughby had been acting with Marianne, as though he had not just abandoned another young woman he’d professed to love. 

Brandon had penned several letters since then, one to Mrs Dashwood, telling her of Mr Willoughby’s actions and warning her that he may do the same to Miss Marianne. The next letter was to find the current whereabouts of Mr Willoughby, Eliza had informed him that she had not only sent a letter to him at Delaford but also one to Lady Allen. From what little he knew of the lady she did not seem the type to forgive such behaviour, and if she had disinherited him he was probably making haste to London as well. His third and final letter was to his solicitor updating his will to include provisions for Eliza’s unborn child and with very strict instructions to give the contents of a small chest in the study of his townhouse to Evelyn, but only in the event of his death.

Now his time was spent caring for his ward and reviving some of his old military contacts. Eliza had told him of Willoughby’s preferred lifestyle and he had several of his old comrades on the lookout should he show his face. With his affairs in order and his dueling pistols ready, all he had to do now was wait.

—--

Evelyn

She must have been quite the sight when she’d arrived at Barton Park, a suitcase beside her. At least her coat had hidden the bandage and bruises, she didn’t much feel like telling the story of how she got them but wasn’t capable of lying at that moment.

She had mostly been able to blend into the background with Mrs Jennings’ family occupying most of her and Sir John’s time. The boorish and rude Mr Palmer had turned out to be a surprisingly welcome distraction. They now had at least one daily chess match, and while the man’s personality hadn’t improved Evelyn had found that trading insults with him was actually quite fun.

Evelyn knew her time of avoiding questions was up when Mrs Jennings joined her in Sir John’s library one afternoon. The Palmers were out visiting a nearby acquaintance, Miss Steele had become quite fond of Elinor and was presently out walking the countryside with her, and Sir John was dealing with some problems the local farmers had raised. This left Evelyn entirely at the mercy of the older lady.

“So my dear, now that there is no longer an audience, are you going to tell me what exactly happened to result in your staying with us?” She sipped her tea innocently as if she hadn’t just asked such a loaded question.

“I suppose you have given me far more time than I thought you would.” Evelyn said, setting her book down. “I suppose the crux of it is that I’ve given Marianne cause to hate me.”

“Surely it cannot be so simple as a tiff between sisters if your Mama has seen fit to separate you both to this extent.”

“It is quite the tiff.” Evelyn sighed, knowing it was better to just come out with it. “The day of the Colonel’s departure Mr Willoughby made a couple of particularly cruel comments. He referred to the Colonel as someone everyone speaks well of but no one remembers to talk to .”

Mrs Jennings was both silent and unmoving now that Evelyn had begun to divulge.

“I didn’t take kindly to what he said, and I ended up summarising my thoughts on his personality.”

“Which, I take it, were not positive?”

“Decidedly not. Mr Willoughby left the next day, and though he did not tell us of the reason for his departure, Marianne believes it to be me.”

“Ah, screamed at you did she? Not to worry dear, I’m sure all this will blow over as soon as Miss Marianne receives a letter from him.”

Evelyn couldn’t help the huff of laughter that came at Mrs Jennings’ assumption.

“If it were just screaming, I would still be at the cottage.” 

Evelyn’s hand had unconsciously come to rest atop the bandage hidden under her sleeve, something Mrs Jennings’ noticed.

“Miss Evelyn, you don’t mean to say things became violent?”

Mrs Jennings motioned to Evelyn’s arm as she asked the question.

Evelyn hesitated a moment before holding the limb out in offering.

Mrs Jennings gasped when she revealed the bruised skin, which in Marianne’s defence, were at the most ugly stage of healing. The cut had also scabbed over several days prior but had proven so easy to reopen that Evelyn kept it bandaged, at least then she could save her clothing.

“Oh, you poor thing.”

Evelyn had to admit, the care and concern felt nice, even her own mother had sent little of it her way since Evelyn’s outburst.

“To be completely fair, the cut was an accident,” Evelyn said as she withdrew and re-covered her arm, “and besides there is a chance she’s right and I have ruined her chance at happiness.”

“But I detect you do not believe that to be the case.”

“Mr Willoughby has never been one to be secretive, yet his manner as he was leaving was rushed and almost guilty, like he was fleeing something.”

The rest of the conversation quickly devolved into Mrs Jennings’ many wild theories behind the true reason for Willoughby’s sudden departure. Over the next hour or so she’d come up with everything from a secret torrid affair, to being involved in a crime syndicate. Evelyn had been thoroughly amused and grateful for the uplift she’d needed.

Sir John was the first to arrive back, and finding no one else, came and joined them.

“My, my, if the two of you have been left alone then I’ve no doubt you’ve been discussing Brandon.” His statement caused Mrs Jennings’ face to alight once more.

Evelyn stood before she could be questioned on the subject, thoroughly drained from the previous topic of conversation.

“I’m afraid I find myself rather too tired for such matters at the moment,” Evelyn said as she began making her leave before pausing at the door, “all I will say on the subject presently is that the Colonel is quite the catch and he should make any woman very happy.”

Evelyn proceeded to leverage her younger physicality as she made haste to the guestroom she’d been occupying since her arrival. Promptly collapsing on the bed like some overly romantic damsel. She had hoped that she could avoid any conversations concerning her feelings towards the Colonel. After all, she was now fairly confident that he had moved on from Marianne, but she still had no affirmations that he was in any way inclined towards her.

—--

Only a week following her tête-à-tête with Mrs Jennings saw Evelyn finally able to shed her long sleeves, the bruises now gone. The cut still appeared as an angry red line across the inside of her arm but as it was so close to her inner elbow, she managed to hide it for the most part.

She was currently sitting in what had almost become her chair in the library, attempting to read a book on the uses for various plants. She’d made little progress, her mind continuously sticking on the plans for that evening. Her family were joining them for dinner. This was far from a rare occurrence, but today Marianne was coming. Her sister had excused herself from dining at Barton Park begging a broken heart from Willoughby’s departure. According to Elinor, Marianne had seldom left the cottage, preferring to stare bleakly out of windows.

Giving up on the book, Evelyn turned her gaze out the window to see that it had gotten much later than she thought, and her family were just now alighting the carriage. Evelyn hurried down to the foyer, slipping next to Mr Palmer at the rear of the welcoming party. As soon as she caught sight of Elinor, she made a beeline for the eldest Dashwood, joining in her conversation with Miss Steele while trying not to make her avoidance of Marianne obvious.

Dinner went better than Evelyn had expected. Marianne seemed as down as Elinor had said, leaving Evelyn at war with herself. On one hand, she felt immeasurable relief that Marianne’s ire seemed to have fizzled out. On the other, her sister was even more despondent than Evelyn had thought. Evelyn stuck by her assessment of Mr Willoughby, he was completely unworthy of her sister, and now her sentiments for the man were worsening at the man’s audacity to leave her sister in such a manner.

After dinner saw the usual spread of card games and quiet conversation. Evelyn was once more playing chess with Mr Palmer and shamelessly using the boorish man as a social buffer, deterring anyone from approaching them save Mrs Palmer of course. Mrs Jennings was, as usual, in her element as she made a number of pointed comments regarding the love lives of the Dashwoods. To her surprise Evelyn was included in the mix this time, although, considering the noticeable blush that formed in her cheeks whenever the Colonel was mentioned she ought not to be.

Evelyn’s seating position allowed her a good vantage point from which to survey the room. Glancing up from the board, she caught sight of Miss Steele and Elinor taking a turn about the room. Her brow furrowed as she caught sight of Elinor’s expression. Her sister was utterly distraught, though any indication of that was quickly suppressed. Mrs Jennings seemed to mistake Elinor’s distress for interest and promptly began demanding to know what the two ladies were talking about.

“I cannot stand it any longer. I must know what you’re saying, Lucy.”

Evelyn saw the fraught whisper Miss Steele made to Elinor, but was much too far to hear what was said.

“Miss Dashwood is quite engrossed,” Mrs Jennings stood and moved over to the two. “Well, and what can have fascinated you to such an extent, Miss Dashwood?”

“Tell us all!” Mrs Palmer called, as keen as her mother, causing another derisive snort to erupt from Mr Palmer.

“We were talking of London, Maam,” Miss Steele must be lying, there was little chance that simple talks of the capital could have elicited such a reaction from Elinor, “and all its diversions.”

“Do you hear that Charlotte?”

Mrs Palmer practically bounded to her mother’s side, such was her excitement.

“While you were so busy whispering, Charlotte and I have concocted a plan.”

“Oh, it is the best plan in the world!”

“I make for London shortly, and I invite you, Lucy, and all three Misses Dashwood, to join me.”

Evelyn, whose head had bounced between the mother and daughter as though she were watching tennis, felt all her muscles go rigid.

Her one and only visit to London was not something she wished to repeat. Add to that a weeks-long journey stewing in the tension with Marianne and she could hardly think of fewer things she wished to do.

“London?” Marianne’s voice was as unexpected as the excitement coating it.

After sharing a brief look with Mama, that told her it would be rude to refuse the invitation, Evelyn reluctantly went over to the gaggle of women.

“I shall convey you all to my house in Chelsea and we will taste the delights of the season.” As Mrs Jennings spoke one could almost picture the presumably vast list of soirees, she wished to drag them all to.

“Oh, Mr Palmer, do you not long for the Misses Dashwood come to London?” Mrs Palmer said as she trotted over to her husband. Said husband had retrieved his paper only to have it partially crushed as his wife held his hand, shaking with exuberance.

“I came to Devonshire with no other view,” came the expectedly sarcastic reply.

“Mrs Jennings you are very kind, but we cannot possibly leave our mother.” Elinor said, that slightly panicked look lingering in her eyes.

“Yes, it would not do for us all to leave over the holidays.” Evelyn said, latching onto any reason not to go.

“Oh, your mother can spare you very well. Why, she has already spared one of you.” If Mrs Jennings’ intention had been to thoroughly shut Evelyn up she had just succeeded with that reminder.

“Of course I can.” Mama’s tone held only delight as a trip to London would likely see Marianne reunite with Willoughby.

“Of course she can!” Mrs Palmer was still somehow the most excited of the group.

“I could not be more delighted,” Mama said, making her opinion inescapably plain, ”it is exactly what I would wish.”

“I will brook no refusal, Miss Dashwood, Miss Evelyn. Let us strike hands on the bargain.”

Evelyn tuned out the rest of the chatter, too busy remembering all the reasons she disliked the capital.

That night as she lay in bed, a thought came unbidden into her head. If she went to London, perhaps she would not have to wait so long to see the Colonel.

Chapter Text

Evelyn

The journey to London was not so bad. Marianne was much too focused on the prospect of seeing Willoughby to pay Evelyn any mind. Indeed, her sister had spent the time in the coach staring out at the countryside and rarely engaging in any conversation. Additionally, when they stopped for the evenings Marianne would disappear as soon as dinner was finished, spending the evening in their room writing and re-writing a letter to Willoughby.

It was Elinor who held most of Evelyn’s attention however, as her conversations with Miss Steele proved most interesting. Miss Steele’s hushed tone had still been loud enough for Evelyn’s keen hearing to pick up in the relative silence of the coach. Evelyn had not yet had the chance to ask Elinor what had caused her distress the other night, but she was getting a clearer picture by the second.

From what she could tell, the two frequently discussed dear Edward and what was particularly surprising was Miss Steele’s apparent attachment to the man. Evelyn had managed to get Elinor alone one night to get to the bottom of what she’d overheard, and to say she had been shocked was an understatement. Apparently Miss Steele had confessed that she and Edward had been engaged for the last five years! Evelyn had been reeling, after all, it meant that Edward had been engaged to another woman all the while getting closer to Elinor. If there was any truth to Miss Steele’s words then Edward had done them a greater disservice than even Willoughby.

Evelyn was still struggling to reconcile the idea of the sweet gentleman they’d welcomed, with his obvious transgressions. Surely his attentions towards Elinor had not merely been platonic. Elinor had said little on the matter, clearly believing Miss Steele’s many assurances that Edward had never once given her any cause to worry that his affections were straying. 

Evelyn however, had yet to buy into Miss Steele’s view of things. It had always seemed so odd to her, how the young lady had instantly latched onto Elinor. Evelyn was swiftly beginning to view Miss Steele as a skilled liar and manipulator, capable of sprinkling truth between the lies to give the illusion of credibility.

It was Miss Steele’s comment, made as they drew closer to London, that cemented this view for Evelyn. She professed herself to be a jealous woman, all while reassuring Elinor that she had no cause to feel insecure in the matter.

—--

They were all grateful for their arrival at Mrs Jennings’ townhouse, even Evelyn who was barely stopping her nose from scrunching at the city’s foul smell. Since determining the true nature of the lying, manipulative, backstabbing, charlatan Evelyn had made it her mission to insert herself into as many conversations between Elinor and said charlatan as possible. It was exhausting.

Mrs Jennings’ townhouse was thankfully a little larger than what was typical, allowing each of its current residents their own rooms. The arrangement suited Evelyn as, thanks to her stay at Barton Park, she had gotten used to the privacy they all used to enjoy at Norland. Marianne had insisted on having one of the rooms facing the street, no doubt to avidly watch for messengers, desperate as she was for a reply from Mr Willoughby.

Unable to give her mind a break, Evelyn spent much of their first Evening in London ruminating on the now plural messy relationships among her sisters, one of which she was the crux of. Her conscience had been growing heavy as she compared her opinion of Edward and Mr Willoughby. All evidence told her that Edward had done far more grievous a wrong to her family and yet she still held him in higher regard than Mr Willoughby. Although she could believe Edward to be the type to fall prey to opportunistic young ladies, it didn’t change the fact that he had strung Elinor along for months. And, for all his failings, Mr Willoughby did truly seem to love her sister.

She had just finished readying herself for bed when she finally amassed enough courage to swallow her pride.

Padding her way to Marianne’s room she saw light coming from beneath the door. Not allowing herself the time to rethink her course of action, Evelyn knocked.

Hearing the faint ‘come in’ from her sister, Evelyn took a deep calming breath before entering and closing the door behind her. Marianne was clearly quite tense now that she knew who it was, but Evelyn continued over nonetheless, perching on the opposite side of the bed.

“I owe you an apology.”

Marianne’s only response was to keep her eyes firmly on her book.

“I won’t do either of us the disservice of lying and say that my opinion of Mr Willoughby has changed dramatically, I clearly don’t see in him what you do.”

This time she got a derisive snort, which she supposed was better than nothing, or all out war.

“I’m sorry for what I said. Regardless of what I feel, that was far from the way to express it.”

“And yet it didn’t stop you.”

“It didn’t and it should have,” Evelyn sighed, “so, to demonstrate my apology I will give Willoughby another chance, and I will try to make sure it is a fair one. But I need you to promise me something.”

“What could you possibly ask for that you believe I would grant?” Marianne huffed, finally putting down her book and looking Evelyn in the eye.

“Promise me you won’t lose yourself in him, I’ve missed my sister as of late.”

“You say that as though I’ve somehow become a different person.” Marianne made to pick up her book again, but Evelyn rested a hand atop it to thwart her attempted dismissal.

“My sister was never so selfish in her actions, she did not make unnecessary cruel remarks about others and she wasn’t at all violent.”

Marianne looked down at her lap for a different reason now.

Seeing that no answer was forthcoming Evelyn stood and returned to her bed, tucking herself in and drifting off with her now lighter conscience.

—--

Despite her best intentions, Evelyn did not sleep well. Her head had felt over-full sometime around midnight and by the next morning it had graduated to pounding. All three Dashwoods were presently in the front-room, listening to Elinor as she read their correspondence.

“John and Fanny are in town,” Elinor said, her brow furrowing in displeasure, “I think we shall be forced to see them.”

“We shall be forced to arrange to see them,” Evelyn replied, arm slung over her eyes in a poor attempt to alleviate her headache, “I’m sure one of us can conveniently feign an illness.”

“I’m sure I could muster up a suitable performance,” Marianne said, her voice coming closer to them.

“Of course this would be the thing the two of you agree on.”

Elinor’s muttered response was interrupted by a knocking sound which had Marianne darting back to her vantage point at the window.

“I think it was for next door.”

“Yes, you’re right.” Marianne’s footsteps once again drew closer.

“Marianne, do sit down with us for two seconds.”

“At this rate you’ll wear out your shoes,” Evelyn hummed, earning a light swat on her arm from Marianne.

Since last night the two had called for a truce, both wishing to let go of the anger they each held towards the other.

Another knocking sound came, this one was definitely not next door and had Marianne almost jumping from her seat. The muffled sound of a visitor being welcomed in sent Marianne into something akin to a frenzy, convinced as she was, that it was Wiloughby. Evelyn hastily pulled herself into an upright sitting position and attempted to rub the evidence of her headache from her face.

They all stood as they heard the visitor approaching the door, Marianne once again leading the charge in her eagerness. When the door opened to reveal none other than the Colonel, Marianne visibly deflated, Evelyn on the other hand instantly forgot about her headache and suddenly felt much more awake.

“Oh, excuse me Colonel.” Marianne said, promptly exiting the room.

“Colonel, what a pleasure to see you.” Evelyn said, her genuine happiness at seeing the gentleman quite plain.

“Have you been in London all this while?” Elinor chimed in, a smile tugging at her cheeks seeing her sister’s abrupt recovery.

“Forgive me, Miss Dashwood, Miss Evelyn,” his tone was grave and Evelyn got the impression he was not here for a social call, “I have heard reports through town that… Are either of you aware of any understanding between your sister and Mr Willoughby?”

Evelyn felt her stomach sink and her headache return with a vengeance as she felt her doubts flare.

“Though neither one has informed us of their understanding… I have no doubt of their mutual affection.” Elinor saved her from needing to answer, the pity clear on her face, for whom Evelyn was unsure.

“Thank you Miss Dashwood,” the Colonel said, while continuously glancing at Evelyn who was now trying to school her features, “then I wish them only happiness and hope that Mr Willoughby’s past behaviour remains in the past.”

Both Dashwood sisters now found their brows furrowing.

“What do you mean?” Elinor’s gaze was wholly focused on the Colonel now.

The gentleman seemed to hesitate, as though struggling to formulate his reply.

“You recall my abrupt departure from Delaford? I had just received word from my ward who had disappeared for some months.”

Both sisters were utterly enraptured now.

“When I found her I learned that not only was she with child but that the father had abandoned her.” 

They gasped at this; they had heard tales of men who behaved in such a manner and the women they ruined before, but never from so close a source.

“Forgive me Colonel,” Elinor said, her shock still evident, “but I fail to see what this has to do with Marianne and… oh.”

Elinor, it seems, had just reached the same conclusion Evelyn had.

“Mr Willoughby was the father, and he abandoned her?” Evelyn asked, momentarily distracted from her own emotions.

“Indeed. I have no reason to believe her story to be anything but truthful.” The Colonel said, Evelyn had resumed her seat now, as her legs seemed much less capable of supporting her than they had a sentence ago.

What proceeded was a lengthy conversation where the two Dashwood sisters gleaned as much intel from the Colonel as possible. By Miss Williams’ account, Willoughby had professed his love for her and had been the one to suggest their running away together. He’d then proceeded to leave her almost immediately after learning of her condition and went about his life as though she didn’t even exist.

With his information properly imparted the Colonel left them to process the revelation. The two sisters were utterly at a loss. Even Evelyn, with her less than glowing opinion of the man, had not thought him capable of something so heinous as this. The stress of it all was making her head far worse, and she was beginning to feel rather nauseous, though that could have been a more direct result of the news.

“How on earth are we going to tell her?” Elinor said, sounding just as lost as Evelyn felt.

“I’ve no idea. Oh, Lord, I even apologised to her last night.” Evelyn groaned, “I promised her I would give him a fair shot. But now…”

“We mustn’t delay, if we do I fear we will never be able to get the words out.”

“You’re right.” 

As Evelyn stood the world tilted and swam in a way that was distinctly unhelpful to her stomach, only to find herself righted by Elinor’s supportive grip on her shoulders.

“Or perhaps I should tell her, you look as though you’re about to keel over.”

Evelyn wanted to refuse the suggestion and help her sisters but the lightness of the day had grown painful now and she didn’t have it in her. Elinor escorted her back to bed and made sure she didn’t simply fall into it fully clothed. The last thing Evelyn remembered for the day was the sound of the door softly closing.

—--

Elinor

Elinor had hoped that tracking down Marianne would have taken longer. She had no clue how she should broach such a subject, especially knowing it would send her sister back into the depression from which she had only just come out of. In the end, Marianne saved her from having to speak first.

“Has the Colonel finally left? What on earth were you all talking about for so long?”

“Dearest,” she said, taking Marianne’s hand and guiding her to sit beside her on the settee, “the Colonel was telling us of something most distressing.”

“Indeed, he must have, you look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Marianne’s voice still held a light, genial quality to it, Elinor was not looking forward to seeing it go.

“The Colonel told us of his ward, a young lady named Eliza Williams who has found herself seduced, with child and abandoned by the man who professed to love her.”

“Oh, how awful, how could someone have so little honor as to do that to another?”

“Dearest,” Elinor said, interrupting Marianne before she could go off on a tangent, “the man Miss Williams named as the father of her child…”

Elinor hesitated, Marianne was staring into her eyes, the look of confusion on her face showing she had no clue what was coming.

“...the man she named was Willoughby.”

Marianne stood, withdrawing her hands as if burned.

“No, that is impossible.” She began pacing across the width of the room, “Willoughby would never do such a thing.”

Elinor simply watched in silence as her sister’s desperation grew.

“Someone must have lied, perhaps this is some ploy from the Colonel, you’ve seen how he looks at me.” Marianne said, grasping for any explanation other than the truth she didn’t wish to entertain.

“Dearest, even if I believed that such a thing were within the Colonel’s character, you should know that his affections have not been directed towards you for some time now.”

“What? What are you talking about?” Marianne paused her pacing to stare at her, as though she’d truly not noticed the difference in the Colonel’s behaviour towards her.

“This is besides the point but the Colonel and Evelyn have been rather smitten with each other, though I believe they have yet to out their affections for one another.”

“But no, Elinor, don’t you see?” Marianne’s voice held a frantic edge now. “He has to maintain feelings for me, if he does not then he would have no reason to lie and…”

“I’m so sorry dearest.”

“No, I shall not believe it. Not until I hear it from Willoughby himself.”

Elinor left Marianne to her thoughts shortly thereafter, she knew there would be no convincing her sister of anything further. At least, for now she was satisfied that Marianne would not do anything reckless.

Chapter Text

Brandon

Following his visit with the Dashwoods Brandon found himself doubting if his chosen course of action had been correct. While he felt justified in trying to protect another lady, he foresaw falling for the lies that had ensnared Eliza, he now found himself frustrated. Getting the words out at all had been a struggle, he’d been only too aware that the timing of everything had been awful. He’d seen Evelyn’s face fall as soon as he’d asked after Miss Marianne’s understanding with Willoughby. She doubtless took his inquiry as a confirmation of attachment towards her sister. It didn’t change the fact that he’d needed to ask, after all if the pair had been engaged he would’ve had to approach the rest of the conversation with more delicacy. Some part of his mind had decided the problem lay in his phrasing and was now unhelpfully suggesting alternatives.

His need to show Evelyn where his true affections lay was growing greater with each setback. He’d wanted to take her aside and lay them bare as soon 

When he arrived back at his town house, he found the normally quiet home to have erupted into chaos. Collaring one of the staff, he finally learned what all the commotion was about. Eliza was in labor.

—--

Evelyn

Mercifully Evelyn had awoken this morning to find her migraine gone. Though now, as they trailed behind John and Fanny through some of London’s more upscale markets, she almost wished for it back. John and Fanny had been their usual selves all day, bragging and boasting at every available opportunity.

Marianne had been in better spirits than Evelyn had expected, though she felt that was more the product of denial than genuine optimism. Her sister had yet to receive any replies from the wayward man. The only letter they had received thus far was from Mama, whom the Colonel had also informed of Willoughby’s transgressions, and its contents had been frantic pleas for Elinor to keep Marianne away from such a scoundrel.

The current outing was to be one of many, as per the arrangements made by Mrs Jennings. True to form, the older lady seemed intent on parading her charges in front of as many eligible bachelors as possible, thus their days were to be filled with walks around the more popular areas of London such as Hyde Park and Covent Garden. Their evenings were, at present, blessedly quiet, aside from the ball they were to attend not three days hence. Said ball was quickly becoming a source of dread for Evelyn. The last one she had attended had been during the season of her debut, something her parents had arranged when Papa had still been alive. They had believed that the pickings around Norland to be too thin and while Elinor had managed to weasel out of it Evelyn hadn’t. Worse still had been the fact that she had stayed with John and Fanny, alone. Fanny had ceaselessly commented on any and every fault she could find, from her quietness to how her hobbies had made her both too thin and too muscular around the shoulders to be fashionable. Evelyn had hoped to meet someone around her own age who might empathise with her but the other young ladies had agreed with Fanny’s assessment.

Shaking herself from those thoughts she found that Mrs Jennings was querying Fanny about her brothers. This could not end well, the last thing Elinor needed was Mrs Jennings pushing the matter of her and Edward’s relationship, not with Miss Steele hanging over it like a storm cloud.

—--

The dreaded day had finally arrived. Evelyn was being set upon by Marianne who had insisted upon doing her hair as Evelyn’s own attempts were deemed unsuitable by her younger sister. Despite her protestations, Evelyn was enjoying repairing the relationship with her sister, it was only as it healed that she became aware of how much it had weighed on her. 

They hadn’t heard anything more from the Colonel since he’d told them of Willoughby. Evelyn kept telling herself she was fine with this, after all he clearly still sought Marianne over her. Despite many mental affirmations of her fineness, Evelyn had been doing double takes at every gentleman which even vaguely fit the Colonel’s description.

Marianne’s exclamation that she was done jarred Evelyn back to the present. Admiring the new hairstyle in the mirror she had to admit her sister had done a good job, much better than anything she was capable of. Evelyn disliked many of the current fashions but few more so than the one which demanded women maintain a fringe of tight curls; Evelyn found it irritating enough when even small locks of hair got in her eyes, she dare not imagine what it would be like if she were more fashion-forward. The style Marianne had worked Evelyn’s hair into suited her perfectly, it swept the silvery blonde locks away from her face and artfully knotted them around a long dark blue ribbon at the back of her head, a few wispy curls allowed to escape at her neck.

Hair finally taken care of, Evelyn moved onto her dress. The midnight blue garment was laid out on the bed, it was by far Evelyn’s favourite and one she rarely had occasion to wear. The dark blue silk was embroidered with silver thread to make it look like the night sky and instead of the popular puffed cap-sleeves it had flutter sleeves made of gauzy chiffon. It was beautiful, and Evelyn was elated to have an excuse to wear it even if she was not keen on the event itself.

Now ready Evelyn joined Elinor and Mrs Jennings in waiting for the rest of their party. Her sister had chosen an elegant periwinkle coloured gown that complemented her complexion and was relatively simple in its design, just as Elinor preferred. Unsurprisingly Marianne had chosen something a little more elaborate, her gown was satin and a pretty Seafoam green in colour, embroidered with swirling designs in threads of silver and gold to mimic waves.

They set off as soon as Miss Steele and Marianne were ready. They arrived among a mass of coaches, leaving the four of them to carefully pick their way to their destination, lest they accidentally tread in horse dung.

Entering the lavish home Evelyn was almost overwhelmed by the volume of people. Her sisters seemed to be having a similar reaction, and so they all followed Mrs Jennings diligently, hoping she was taking them to a less crowded locale. Said hopes were squashed almost immediately, they ended up in one of the larger rooms meant for guests to mingle. Mrs Jennings who had now caught sight of her daughter was scanning the room for anyone else she knew.

The older lady had collared Mr Palmer to aid her with his taller stature, but found the request expectedly rebuffed. Undeterred Mrs Jennings quickly located Fanny, much to Evelyn’s despair.

“Mrs Dashwood!” She called, alerting Fanny to their arrival.

Sensing that there was no escape, the three Dashwood sisters picked their way through the crowd, following in Mrs Jennings’ wake, with an excited Mrs Palmer and Miss Steele in tow.

Evelyn tuned out their greetings and small-talk finding that this room, while just as hot as the previous, was at least a little less populated.

“You’re not alone I trust?”

“Indeed, no, John has just gone to fetch my brother. They’ve been eating ices.”

That had everyone’s head snapping up to give Fanny their full attention. It seemed that they were possibly about to be faced with a rather awkward situation given both Elinor and Miss Steele’s presence.

“Your brother! I declare this is good news indeed.” Mrs Jennings said, casting a knowing look to Elinor over her shoulder as they all followed Fanny deeper still into the mansion.

“Miss Dashwood, I declare I shall faint clean away.” Evelyn was only just able to make out Miss Steele’s faint words to her sister and struggled to refrain from glaring at the back of her head.

“Ah, Mrs Jennings, I am pleased to see you” John’s greetings faded into the background as they caught sight of the back of a head of dark brown curls. Evelyn quickly went to Elinor’s side, finding her sister perhaps the most tense she had ever seen.

“May I present my brother-in-law, Mr Robert Ferrars.” The tension evaporated so quickly it was almost comical. Though Mr Robert Ferrars appeared to share his brother’s colouring and general build, that is where the similarities ended. The man before them lacked Edward’s strong jawline and affable features, his teeth were particularly crooked and what jawline he had was covered by his high shirt collar which made it look as though he did not possess a neck.

“Miss Dashwood, Miss Steele, Miss Marianne and Miss Evelyn.” John said, gesturing to each of them in-turn.

“My dear ladies, we meet at last.” Mr Robert Ferrars’ greeting possessed a quality that suggested he thought himself quite the catch. Evelyn used the responding curtsies as an opportunity to stifle her laughter, it definitely seems that the younger brother had more in common with Fanny than with Edward.

“So you must be the younger brother. Is Mr Edward not here? Miss Dashwood was quite counting on him.” Mrs Jennings said, her meddling about as helpful as it was subtle.

“Oh, he’s far too busy for such gatherings, and has no special acquaintance here to make his attendance worthwhile.” There were but a handful of responses Robert Ferrars could have given that would have caused Evelyn to instantly despise the man, and yet he had managed it without issue.

Marianne clearly felt similarly and was not nearly so shy about glaring.

“Oh, I declare, I do not know what the young men are about these days. Are they all in hiding?” Mrs Jennings’ jest did little to diffuse the ire radiating from the two younger Dashwoods.

“Come, Mr Robert, in the absence of your brother, you must dance with our lovely Miss Dashwood here.” It took all of Evelyn’s will not to turn her glare on Mrs Jennings for that.

“It would be my honor.”

With that Elinor was swept away towards the ballroom. Marianne and Evelyn shared a glance, it looks like they would need to perform a rescue.

—--

Evelyn was standing alone on one of the first floor balconies to the rear of the mansion, letting the cold night air brush over her overheated skin. She and Marianne had eventually succeeded in extricating Elinor from the smarmy clutches of Mr Robert Ferrars, Evelyn having had the brilliant idea to sacrifice Miss Steele in her place.

When it looked as though she had a moment, Evelyn had wasted no time in finding a quiet spot to gather herself in, finding the event, the crowds and the heat rather overwhelming.

She couldn’t have been out there for very long and yet she was startled all the same when a familiar rich baritone sounded behind her.

“Good evening, Miss Evelyn.” She whirled around at the Colonel’s voice, eyes flying open.

“G-good evening Colonel, I did not think you would be in attendance this evening.” Evelyn stuttered out, caught quite off-guard.

“Yes, I had not intended to until I learned of your attendance from Mrs Jennings.” He said, coming to stand in front of her.

“My attendance?” Her eyes met his now, head tilting upwards to accommodate the height difference, and found that his gaze was soft and already fixed on hers.

“Yes, yours. Miss Evelyn I find myself in quite the desperate situation.”

“Oh, well of course I will help in whatever way I can.”

“Thank you, you see through a combination of my own idiocy and the poor timing of events outside my control, I have made the woman I have come to love believe that I hold affection for her sister.”

It took Evelyn a long moment of shocked silence to process the words coming out of the Colonel’s mouth.

“When nothing could be further from the truth.” He said, stepping closer still, his voice becoming impossibly soft. “And alas I hope but still do not truly know if she feels the same for me.”

“I love you.” The words slipped from between her lips before she could even think to stop them, but she found she didn’t care whatsoever when she saw his eyes light up.

“I love you too.” He said, gently taking her hands in his.

“But I don’t understand… I thought… you and Marianne…”

“I will admit, that when I first met your sister, I was so reminded of someone I had once loved and lost that I allowed myself to be led by those memories. But I soon realised my folly.”

“But wait, so this isn’t a recent development?”

“No, I’ve been steadily falling under your charms since you became a regular feature in my hothouse.”

“You’re serious. You really mean it.” Evelyn said, shocked disbelief still colouring her tone.

“I am. But it seems that given all the misunderstandings, I will need to be more convincing.”

She couldn’t have replied even if she’d had the chance. One of his hands released hers only to move up to gently cup her cheek. His head drew ever closer and then she felt the soft brush of his lips against hers.

It was like the night had exploded and disappeared all at once. Her perception of the world narrowed to him and him alone. Her hesitation fled, and she found herself instinctually deepening the kiss.

It was fervent and seemed to both contain and release all the anxiety and uncertainty they had both been feeling.

They broke apart, their breathing heavy. Evelyn found that her hands had moved up onto his chest and that they were pressed up against one another. It was quite the scandalous position to be seen in and yet neither of them wanted to move. Only now, in this position, did Evelyn even realise that the Colonel was not in his usual dark attire. Instead, he had donned what she presumed to be his formal military uniform. The effect was rather enticing. It made his already broad shoulders seem impossibly strong, and showed off his trim physique which he’d maintained even after leaving the service. Evelyn felt a new feeling begin to stir, this one lower down and entirely new to her.

The spell they were under was broken when they heard the laughter of another guest coming from somewhere inside. The pair slowly, reluctantly broke apart, though the Colonel insisted on keeping one of her hands.

Evelyn now felt the absence of his body keenly, and the cold wintry air that rushed in to fill the gap caused her to shiver.

“It seems, Miss Evelyn, that we should get you back inside before you freeze.”

“I believe we can do without the ‘Miss’ now don’t you think?”

“I will happily call you Evelyn, but only if you call me Christopher.”

Chapter Text

Evelyn

Evelyn’s opinion of balls was quickly changing, improving with every dance shared with Christopher, of which there were many. The couple had danced with no other partners and had seemed quite lost in one another. Their evening was eventually interrupted by Mrs Jennings who informed them of the events which had transpired in Evelyn’s absence.

Willoughby had been in attendance tonight, and was lurking somewhere still, with his new fiancé, a Miss Sophia Grey. This alone was bad enough but became far worse when Marianne had been at the centre of a commotion regarding the newly engaged couple. Apparently her sister had first gained the crowd’s attention when she first caught sight of her wayward lover and proceeded to call out to him at such a volume so as to be heard over the music. She’d followed Willoughby, as the cad tried to evade her, and subsequently learned of his engagement at which point Elinor had stepped in and escorted their sister home.

As Mrs Jennings appraised her of the night's events, Evelyn found herself instinctively leaning into the supportive hand Christopher laid on the small of her back.

“It seems that our evening is to be cut short.” As usual, his voice grounded her and helped ease the tension forming in her shoulders.

“Yes, so it seems, I’m sorry,” she said, turning to face him.

“You have nothing to apologise for,” he replied, a mischievous half smile forming on his lips, “but if you insist then I would ask you for your entire afternoon tomorrow.”

“It’s yours.” She could feel her answering smile tugging at her cheeks.

Mrs Jennings, who had been unusually silent for their exchange, took that moment to urge them towards the coach. Christopher insisted on escorting them, silencing any protests Evelyn may have had by stating he had only even attended to see her, causing her heart to flutter. Mrs Jennings reached the limit of her self control during the coach ride, and began making plans to shop for wedding clothes, something the couple had to dissuade given that they had technically only just started courting. They had yet to even discuss the topic, and Evelyn felt strongly that such important matters always required a discussion even in circumstances like theirs.

Their arrival at the townhouse meant saying goodnight to Christopher, something Evelyn found herself extremely reluctant to do. Alas, her sisterly duties called, and the two parted with the promise of tomorrow’s plans to sustain them.

Evelyn wasted no time and went straight to find her sisters. Noticing the light coming from beneath Marianne’s door Evelyn entered, finding both of them dressed for bed. Marianne was writing a letter at the small writing desk while Elinor perched on the side of the bed.

“I see Mrs Jennings finally tracked you down.” Marianne said, her voice heavy. “I suppose she’s already brought you up to speed.”

Evelyn went over to the younger Dashwood, hugging her from behind.

“I’m so sorry, dearest, I truly wanted to be wrong about him.” Evelyn felt Marianne’s hand come up to clasp her own, the slight tremor in it showing just how close her sister was to breaking down.

—--

Marianne was understandably forlorn over breakfast the next morning. She had yet to even cry over the matter, something both Elinor and Evelyn found deeply troubling. They were all rather surprised when a letter arrived for her though they had thought Willoughby would maintain his silence. Marianne had promptly rushed off with her correspondence at which Mrs Jennings said she believed that this was only a lovers’ quarrel, which would be entirely resolved by said letter. Evelyn barely managed to hold in a snort of disbelief, how a single letter could smooth over months of deceit, abandonment and an illegitimate child she had no idea.

Having finished, Mrs Jennings left to tend to her own correspondence, leaving Evelyn and Elinor with Miss Steele. It was Miss Steele who took the opportunity to fill the ensuing silence, still rubbing her attachment to Edward in Elinor’s face.

“What a welcome I had from Edward’s family, Miss Dashwood. I’m surprised you never mentioned how agreeable your sister-in-law is. And Mr Robert, all so affable.”

Evelyn almost wanted to award Elinor with some sort of medal, it couldn't have been easy to maintain a straight face at that.

“It is perhaps fortunate that none of them know of your engagement.” Elinor’s reply was far more terse than any she had given the woman before. It seems her sister was reaching the limit of what she could tolerate.

“Excuse me.” Elinor left them then, no doubt heading up to check on Marianne.

“Forgive Elinor, Miss Steele, she is rather worried for Marianne at present.” Evelyn said, having made a decision regarding Miss Steele.

“Yes, of course, your poor sister. Not everyone can hope to be as lucky as Edward and I.” The saccharine sweet reply only served to cement Evelyn’s chosen course of action.

“Yes, indeed, on the subject of your engagement Miss Steele, please trust me when I say that Fanny’s agreeableness can be fleeting, it may perhaps be a good idea for you to capitalise on the excellent first impression you’ve clearly made.” Evelyn suggested, sipping her tea and keeping her face as innocent as possible.

“Are you quite sure Miss Evelyn? I should hate to spring something so important after only our first meeting.” The way Miss Steele was leaning forward certainly didn’t show any of the hesitancy she claimed.

“Miss Steele, are you aware that out of all of my sisters, I am the only one to have stayed with John and Fanny for an extended time?” She held all of Miss Steele’s attention now, she quite enjoyed using Miss Steele’s particular brand of deception against her.

“I was not, Miss Evelyn. Then, yes, please, your aid is most welcome, I so wish to finally be able to be public with mine and Edward’s attachment.”

“Well, first you must know that Fanny can be capricious, she is in a good mood now that the social season is underway. If I were you, I would capitalise on it, timing in this case is everything.” Evelyn said, reaching across the table to rest her hand atop Miss Steele’s, making herself as imploring as possible.

“She has invited me to visit with them actually, I am to convey myself and my belongings in not but a few days.” Miss Steele said, standing with an elated look upon her face. “Oh, Miss Evelyn, thank you, your expertise has been most valued.”

They both left the room then, Miss Steele rushing off somewhere happily and Evelyn making her way upstairs. She almost bumped into Mrs Jennings on the landing but when they heard Marianne’s wailing sobs, they both made haste to comfort the younger Dashwood.

They walked in to see Elinor desperately trying to comfort the heartbroken girl, who was still clutching the letter from Willoughby.

“I had to come straight up. How are you, Miss Marianne?” Mrs Jennings said, already fussing over her.

For her part, Evelyn simply crawled onto the bed with her sisters and began stroking Marianne’s hair.

“Oh, poor thing, she looks very bad. It is no wonder, for it is true, news is already spreading of Mr Willoughby’s engagement to Miss Grey and her fifty-thousand pounds” Mrs Jennings continued.

Marianne’s cries grew even louder at that.

“According to my very good friend Mrs Morton, he is to be married at the end of this month. Well said I, if tis true then he is a good-for-nothing who’s used my young friend abominably ill. And I wish with all my soul that his wife might plague his heart out.”

Evelyn quite agreed with that particular desire.

“Oh my dear, he’s not the only young man worth having.” With that Mrs Jennings gave Marianne a gentle pat on the arm and left the elder Dashwoods to console her.

—--

As the afternoon, and Evelyn’s outing with Christopher approached, she found herself once again caught between wanting to support her sister and acting for herself for once. She wasn’t even sure what she could do for Marianne, who’s crying had stopped little more than an hour ago. Her sister was now simply laying on her bed, her only request had been to leave her be, and yet the guilt gnawed at her still.

Evelyn knew she shouldn’t feel guilty for being happy, that Marianne’s heartbreak was inevitable given Willoughby’s actions, but knowing that and feeling it were two very different things. Evelyn had finished readying herself almost half an hour ago and was now pacing the width of her guestroom, only pausing when Elinor entered.

“You’ll wear through the floors if you carry on.”

“Elinor, what should I do? I’m to spend the afternoon with Christopher but how can I leave Marianne in this state.” Evelyn finally stopped moving and sat on the edge of the bed, Elinor joining her.

“Christopher?”

“Oh! Colonel Brandon. He asked me to call him Christopher and I’ve not been able to stop.” Evelyn felt a familiar blush rising in her cheeks.

“Then I take it you’re no longer suffering under the idea he still harbored feelings of our sister?”

“Ye- Wait, you knew?”

“He and I had a conversation about that very matter before he departed for London. I wanted to tell you but I felt you wouldn’t truly believe it coming from any but him. Though I would have liked to have known of this development sooner, I suppose other matters got in the way.”

Evelyn threw her arms around Elinor’s shoulders.

“Thank you. And I intended to tell you and Marianne both this morning but then…”

“Yes…” Elinor sighed, seemingly just as at a loss on what to do about Marianne as Evelyn was.

“I should ask Christopher to reschedule, I can’t in good conscience leave her like this.” Evelyn resumed her pacing again.

“You will do no such thing.” Elinor’s tone left no room for arguments as she placed her hands on Evelyn’s shoulders to halt her movements. “Thus far you are the only one of us to find happiness, I’ll not have you force yourself to be miserable with us.”

—--

Christopher arrived to collect her at precisely one o’clock, now back in his standard attire. As was quickly becoming normal for Evelyn, all her doubt and anxieties evaporated when Christopher came into view. She felt lighter with Elinor’s blessing and reassurance that Marianne would be well looked after in her absence.

Looping her arm through his, the couple departed, to where Evelyn was still unsure. 

“I hope you don’t mind the walk, though we’re not far.” He said, tilting his head down to meet her eyes.

“Not at all, I admit I feel quite cooped up in the closeness of the city. Although, I would still be interested to know our destination.”

“Hmm, there is someone I would like you to meet,” his eyes had gained a mischievous glint, and Evelyn had noticed he’d avoided answering the question.

They spent the rest of the walk discussing their feelings on the various parts of the city. While both of them much preferred the countryside, they shared a fondness for the people watching they were not normally able to indulge in. Then there were the architectural landmarks one could only find in the capital such as St Paul’s or Westminster Abbey, places they both found breathtaking and much preferred to some of the ridiculous grand palaces that were popular with the upper echelons of the nobility.

Their destination had indeed been rather close, they stood now in front of a handsome townhouse near the border between Chelsea and South Kensington.

“Evelyn, I hope you don’t find this too forward, but may I welcome you to my home in the city.”

“Your home? I thought we were meeting someone.”

“Indeed, we are, but as they are currently confined to the house, I’m afraid this is our only option.” Seeing the confusion still coating her features, he simply let out a small chuckle as he led her into the house.

The interior was not lavish or gaudy as Evelyn had come to expect from all London homes. Instead, it had a subtle, understated charm, much like its master, it was well maintained and the decor tasteful with its muted colours and dark wooden floors, the large windows allowing the winter light to stream through.

Christopher led her into what appeared to be a parlor, tea was just being served by one of the staff and a young dark-haired woman was seated with an infant cradled in her arms.

“Evelyn, this is my ward, Miss Eliza Williams,” he said, gesturing for her to sit.

“Miss Williams, it’s a pleasure, though I confess Christopher has only given me the broad strokes.”

“Eliza is perfectly fine Miss Evelyn, and yes I imagine I’ve heard rather more about you, Brandon here speaks of little else these days.”

The knowing smile on Eliza’s face brought a blush to Evelyn’s, and once she’d gotten the younger lady to also agree to drop the ‘Miss’ conversation flowed easily between them. Eliza turned out to be quite enigmatic and a delight to talk to.

She also had no issues with Evelyn fussing over her daughter, Claire, who was absolutely adorable. As Evelyn cooed over the tiny babe, she couldn’t help but wonder what life would be like with her own children.

—--

Brandon

A weight had lifted from Brandon’s shoulders as he’d watched his ward and his love converse. He’d hoped the two would get along but had still fretted over what he should do if they had not. He loved both dearly and couldn’t imagine having to give one up to keep the other. He saw now that he had been remiss in keeping Eliza away, at the time he’d wanted to ensure her education and that she was able to grow up with some facsimile of a maternal figure. However, he’d also been distant, and though little Claire was a welcomed addition, he couldn’t help the guilt he felt for the circumstances of her birth. He was Eliza’s guardian, he should have protected her from influences like Willoughby.

He’d conveyed these sentiments to Eliza of course, and she’d promptly informed him that she did not wish to absolve herself of all blame. But she also said that she’s unsure she would change anything given the outcome.

Evelyn was quite taken with little Claire it seemed, she was currently quite distracted, fussing happily over the infant. Brandon found utterly unable to move his gaze from the sight.

“She’s lovely.” He hadn’t even noticed Eliza sidle up to him, too caught up as he was with the scene before him. “Just promise me the two of you will hold the wedding until Claire is old enough to make the journey to Delaford.”

“You have my word, though you should know I have not yet asked her.” He said, keeping his voice low enough not to disturb Evelyn and Claire.

“Well, I suggest you do so sooner rather than later”

Chapter Text

Evelyn

“Darling, I trust you plan on bringing Eliza and Claire to Delaford, I feel uneasy at the idea of them being alone in London.” Evelyn and Christopher were headed back to Mrs Jennings’ house, following a stroll through Hyde Park.

“Yes, though the physician informed me, it will be a few months before Claire is old enough to travel. Besides, I shall need to go on ahead if I’m to prepare for them.” Christopher said as they neared the townhouse.

The couple had made a habit these last few days, of touring London’s various parks and other green spaces, anything that reminded them of the countryside. And it always followed that they would delay their parting of ways as long as possible, such as they were doing now.

They entered the house, intending for Christopher to stay for afternoon tea, but were met with Elinor’s worried face.

“Evelyn, good you’re back,” Elinor said, fatigue in her voice, “I’m sorry but I fear we must get Marianne home as quickly as possible.”

“She’s the same then,” Evelyn’s shoulders sank, “she seemed a little better at breakfast, I suppose that was short-lived?”

“Yes, I’m afraid so. The Palmers can take us as far as their home at Cleveland, which is but a day from Barton.”

“Then permit me to accompany you all and take you straight on from Cleveland to Barton myself.” Evelyn had expected Christopher’s offer, but nonetheless she worried it would mean his neglecting his other obligations.

“Darling I would love nothing more, but is it really alright for you to leave Eliza and Claire so soon, it’s been little over a week since the birth.”

“Do not worry, sweetheart. They will do just fine without me and as I was telling you, I intended to depart for Delaford ahead of them anyway, this would merely accelerate things a little.” He smoothed his hands up and down her arms as he spoke, having found out a few days ago that the action alleviated her worry.

“I will confess that this is what I’d hoped,” Elinor interjected, “I cannot thank you enough, Colonel.”

Christopher left them soon after, now needing to begin preparations for the impromptu journey home. Though Evelyn couldn’t help the twinge of disappointment she felt, as Christopher would be too busy for their normal outings over the next days, she found herself more than ready to return home.

—--

The next morning Evelyn forced Elinor to take a break from caring for Marianne, both her sisters looked exhausted and where Elinor’s was due to stress Marianne had slept most days away.

Evelyn was bringing the remains of Marianne’s breakfast down when she heard Elinor and Miss Steele’s voices coming from the parlor. Quickening her pace, she set the tray down in the kitchen and hurried back.

“How are you enjoying your stay with John and Fanny, Miss Steele?” Elinor said, Evelyn had yet to reveal herself and was shamelessly eavesdropping by the door.

“Oh, I was never so happy in my entire life, Miss Dashwood. I do believe your sister-in-law has taken quite a fancy to me.”

“Miss Steele, what a pleasure to see you.” Evelyn said, taking the small gap in conversation to properly join them and keeping her dislike from reaching her expression.

“Oh, Miss Evelyn, I must thank you, your advice regarding your sister-in-law was most helpful.” Evelyn felt Elinor’s gaze burning into her, but didn’t acknowledge it lest Miss Steele catch on.

“You’re most welcome Miss Steele, though I take it you still have yet to capitalise on the goodwill you’re garnering.” There was no way Miss Steele had let slip about her engagement yet, if she had this conversation would be quite different. Besides, it is not personality Fanny cares for, it is breeding and wealth.

“Oh, I had to come and tell you both, for you cannot imagine what has happened.”

“No, I cannot.” Elinor’s deadpan tone did not dampen Miss Steele’s exuberance in the slightest.

“Yesterday, I was introduced to Edward’s mother. And she was a vast deal more than civil. I’ve not yet seen Edward but I feel sure to very soon.”

And yet, she’d still kept tight-lipped regarding her engagement. Damn, Miss Steele was apparently smarter than Evelyn had given her credit for.

As though summoned, a knock came at the door announcing the arrival of Mr Edward Ferrars. Evelyn scrutinised Miss Steele’s expression, Elinor had already stood to greet the gentleman and so didn’t see the burning jealousy plastered across her face as she stared daggers into the back of the Eldest Dashwood. Evelyn was not surprised to note that Miss Steele did not seem to be in any pain or distress, confirming that her motives were purely wealth and societal gain.

When Edward entered the room, he only had eyes for Elinor, not once noticing Miss Steele stood next to Evelyn just lightly out of view.

“Mr Ferrars.”

“Miss Dashwood.”

Despite only a few words having been exchanged, the air was charged. Evelyn worried slightly that Miss Steele would interrupt but still she stood frozen and silent next to her.

“What a pleasure to see you.” Elinor began glancing over to Evelyn and Miss Steele, clearly intending to alert the gentleman of the presence of his fiancé.

“Miss Dashwood, how can I-”

“You know Miss Steele, of course.” Elinor seemed unable to look at the gentleman as she spoke.

Edward turned, and though the man was clearly shocked at the presence of Miss Steele, he recovered quickly.

“Indeed. How do you do, Miss Steele?” The longing that had coated his greeting to Elinor was notably absent now.

“I am well, thank you, Mr Ferrars.” Miss Steele’s voice had grown small in the face of the truth she’d been lying to Elinor about.

“Do sit down.” Evelyn interjected, growing quite impatient of all the tense staring.

“Yes, thank you, and it is good to see you too Miss Evelyn.” They exchanged the quick bow and curtsey polite society required and everyone moved to sit once more. Though the tension had only grown.

“You must be surprised to find me here, Mr Ferrars. I expect you thought I was at your sister’s house?” Miss Steele had adopted a much sweeter, more demure manner of speaking now, pity it still reeked of falsehood.

“Let me fetch Marianne, Mr Ferrars. She would be most disappointed to miss you.” Elinor said, already looking to escape the uncomfortable situation.

“Edward! I heard your voice.” Marianne said as she too entered the parlor, evidently there was some cosmic power intent on keeping Elinor put for this. “At last you’ve found us.”

“Forgive me Miss Marianne, my visit is shamefully overdue.” Edward said, latching onto the alternate avenue of conversation. “You are pale. You’re not unwell I hope?”

“Do not think of me, Elinor is well you see.” Marianne’s complete lack of subtlety was ordinarily at odds with Evelyn’s careful planning, but as it seemed to completely shut Miss Steele out of the discussion Evelyn rather appreciated it.

“That must be enough for both of us.” She continued, gesturing towards their elder sister who looked as though she wished for the ground to swallow her.

“Indeed, and how do you enjoy London, Miss Marianne?” Edward said, trying to steer the topic away from messier areas.

“Not at all, the sight of you is all the pleasure it has afforded.” Marianne, however, seemed equally determined not to allow this. “Is that not so Elinor? Why have you not come to see us before?”

Marianne had moved to stand beside their elder sister now, leaving Edward with no other option than to look at her, though he still seemed unable to meet her eyes.

“I have been much engaged elsewhere.”

“Engaged elsewhere? But what was that when there were such friends to be met?”

“Perhaps, Miss Marianne, you think young men never honor their engagements, little or great?” Miss Steele butted in, causing Elinor’s head to snap to her.

Evelyn, meanwhile, felt her blood freeze over. How dare she. Evelyn was well aware of how Miss Steele’s morals were so low as to warm themselves with hellfire but surely she should at least try a thicker veil for her insults.

“No indeed, for Edward is the most incapable of being selfish of anyone I ever saw.” Marianne’s reply contained not a hint that Miss Steele’s words had affected her. Evelyn found her plots of revenge momentarily paused as pride burgeoned up from within her, perhaps Marianne was finally beginning to heal.

The rest of the conversation was rather short, consisting only of awkward attempts to get Edward to stay and his own equally awkward excuse for leaving. Miss Steele of course took the opportunity to have Edward escort her back to John and Fanny’s, much to the displeasure of the Dashwoods.

Seeing them leave Evelyn hastily followed under the guise of seeing the pair out. Once the three were alone in the entryway she called out, picking up speed as she did so.

“Edward, I wonder if I might have a word? Alone.”

She didn’t give either of them a chance to answer, taking hold of Edward’s arm and dragging him into an empty sitting room, shutting the door in Miss Steele’s face.

“Don’t look so afraid, this will not take long.” She said, knowing her expression had turned to the stern one she used when Margaret was doing something dangerous. “Elinor has told me of your desire for a simpler life, I wonder how much truth is in that and what you would be prepared to part with to make it so?”

Edward seemed quite taken aback, probably assuming she intended to confront him about Elinor.

“There is a great deal of truth in it. I confessed to your sister that given total freedom, I should like to become a member of the clergy.”

“Very well, thank you Edward, your honesty is most appreciated.”

Evelyn released the poor man after that, she’d intentionally kept her voice to a volume Miss Steele would have been able to eavesdrop on but not so loud that Edward would have clammed up. Now she hoped to leave things to fall as they would, all this meddling was rather exhausting.

—--

It didn’t take long to hear of the effects of her machinations. The very next day, while the Dashwoods packed for their near departure, Mrs Jennings burst into the room, her eyes alight in the way they only did when she’d caught hold of a particularly juicy piece of gossip.

“Oh, my dears, what a commotion!” She was panting slightly as she spoke, as though she’d run through the streets to bring them the news. “Mr Edward Ferrars, the very one I used to joke you about Miss Dashwood.”

She’d barely taken a breath before launching into the next sentence.

“He’s engaged these five years to Lucy Steele. Poor Mr Ferrars. His mother, who by all accounts is very proud, has demanded he break the engagement on pain of disinheritance.”

Another breath.

“But he has refused to break his promise to Lucy. He has stood by her, good man, and is cut off without a penny. She has settled it all, irrevocably, on Mr Robert.”

Evelyn froze, of course she’d considered that Edward may be foolish enough to place his word in such high regard as to enter such a loveless marriage. But she’d believed his obvious affection for Elinor and Miss Steele’s clear desire for only his wealth and status would be enough for him to see reason.

Still all was not lost yet, it just meant that she was counting on Miss Steele’s greed to kick in. With Edward disinherited and functionally disowned by Mrs Ferrars, he would hold little appeal to his ambitious fiancé.

Mrs Jennings left them as quickly as she’d arrived, complaining of a need to visit Miss Steele. Evelyn almost ran after her, so desperate was the desire to push further, but she knew she couldn’t. She’d sown the seeds, and now she would be forced to wait and see which took root.

“How long have you known?” Marianne’s question came as a surprise, though it shouldn’t of. Of course Elinor hadn’t spoken of it, and given all of Marianne’s own drama it was understandable that she’d missed Elinor’s distress.

“Since the night Mrs Jennings offered to take us to London.” Elinor shut the door, though there was no one else in the house to overhear outside the staff.

“Why did you not tell us?” That question from Marianne was met with silence, which naturally tipped Marianne off that she’d been the only one of the three in the dark.

“Wait, you told Evelyn but not me?”

“If it helps, she didn’t confide willingly, there was a substantial amount of cornering and coercing involved, also I was eavesdropping on their conversations.” Evelyn’s confession earned her exasperated sighs from both her sisters.

“It was not my secret to tell, Lucy told me in the strictest confidence, I could not break my word.” Elinor was backed up to the door, as if she could physically contain their conversation.

“But Edward loves you!”

“And he most certainly does not love Miss Steele, nor she him.” That had Elinor staring at her again, but it was Marianne who began the questioning.

“And how could you possibly know that?”

“Well, if he did love her I think he would have married her at some point over the last five years , regardless of his family’s approval. And as for Miss Steele, she may act innocent and earnest but I’m sure you’ve noticed by now that she tends to put others down when in the company of her betters, especially men. She made just such a comment only yesterday about Marianne, which I saw you catch, by the way.” Evelyn suddenly felt great admiration for Mrs Jennings, talking at such speed required far more effort than she’d anticipated.

“It matters not who he loves. He’s given his word and clearly he intends to keep it.” Elinor said, dejected once more. “He made me no promises. He tried to tell me of Lucy.”

“He cannot marry her.” Marianne was predictably aghast at Elinor’s dismissal of her own happiness.

“Though he may harbor some regret, I believe he will be happy in the knowledge that he did his duty and kept his word.” Elinor did not even sound like she was convincing herself let alone Evelyn and Marianne. “Edward will marry Lucy and we will go home.”

“Always resignation and acceptance. Always prudence and honor and duty.” Marianne said, slowly approaching Elinor. “Elinor, where is your heart?”

Elinor abruptly jerked away from Marianne’s gentle hold and put as much distance as the room would allow between them. A part of Evelyn had known this was coming, Elinor could not keep everything so tightly contained forever.

“What do you know of my heart?” Elinor did not shout, or raise her voice, but the hard edge it had gained was unmistakable. “What do you know of anything but your own suffering?”

“Elinor.” There was a warning in Evelyn’s tone, while Marianne had been too wrapped up in her own problems, rubbing her face in the fact would hardly help matters.

“For weeks, Marianne, I’ve had this pressing on me. Without being at liberty to speak of it to a single creature.” Evelyn felt a single brow raise at that. She had tried to be there for Elinor, but the stubborn woman had not once willingly let her in.

“It was forced on me by the very person whose prior claims ruined all my hopes.”

Marianne remained silent, tears forming and threatening to spill over as she found herself the focus of Elinor’s break. Evelyn joined the younger Dashwood, hugging her from the side both in support and protection from this out-pouring of emotion she’d asked for but did not entirely deserve. Evelyn wished she could do the same for Elinor, but the shaking tension in her sister’s frame was all the indication she needed that any attempts at comfort would be rebuffed as Marianne’s were.

“I endured her exaltation again and again, whilst knowing myself to be divided from Edward forever. Believe me, had I not been bound to silence, I could have produced proof enough of a broken heart even for you.”

Elinor, it seems, had finished now. Both of Evelyn’s sisters were now crying, and she extended one of her arms to Elinor, who after only a moment’s hesitation, joined in the embrace.

Evelyn wasn’t sure how long the three of them stood like this, at some point she’d begun stroking both her sister’s hair and gradually the flow of their tears eased. When she was certain they’d calmed down, Evelyn gently tilted Elinor’s chin to meet her gaze.

“I think the lengths you are willing to go to keep your word is admirable, but dearest, not everyone is deserving of your loyalty. Miss Steele was no real friend, you would have seen that had your grief not blinded you to it. And, I know you think it fanciful, but I too believe that Edward will choose you in the end.”

Chapter Text

Evelyn

It was now the eve of their departure and with preparations finally completed Evelyn and Christopher had made time for one more outing. Time had passed quickly for them, as it often did when they were relatively alone. Their morning was now coming to an end, and the conversation had turned to more pertinent matters.

“I have heard that, owing to his engagement, your friend Mr Ferrars has lost his fortune irrevocably to his brother.”

“Yes, indeed, though I doubt Edward will miss anything about it other than the stability it provides. But I did not realise you were acquainted with him.”

They paused their walk, both content to look out over The Serpentine, a narrow stretch of lake that cut through the centre of Hyde Park.

“Ah, I am not, we have never met, actually.” Evelyn turned her gaze to her love, wondering what cause he had to bring this subject up. “I know only too well the cruelty of dividing two young people long attached to one another, even if one eventually finds something equally wonderful later on.”

Christopher took her hand in his, lacing their fingers together as well as their gloves and the cold would allow.

“I have a proposal to make that should allow him to marry Miss Steele immediately.” Christopher continued, now facing Evelyn, their joined hands between them. “Since the gentleman is so close a friend to your family, perhaps you’d be good enough to mention it to him.”

“Thank you, my love, you’ve saved me several hours of letter writing in making my own enquiries. Though you should know, I believe that whatever Edward may have felt for Miss Steele has waned over their engagement.”

“You mean to say that the situation he finds himself in is as a result of duty rather than affection?” Christopher’s head had taken on a quizzical tilt.

“Last I saw them together, I did not observe anything in their encounter other than an awkward distance. Certainly no indications of affection, on either part, I may add.”

“You’re sure? There is no chance of your observations being due to the lack of privacy?”

“Yes, I am sure. Edward is not particularly adept at hiding such things. But even so, I might have doubts in my assessment if it weren’t for the way he looks at Elinor.” 

“I wasn’t aware Miss Dashwood had any current romantic interests. But did your family not become acquainted with Mr Ferrars only in the last year?” Christopher’s expression turned to one of surprise.

“Indeed, he and Elinor grew close over his stay at Norland, his engagement was of greatest shock to her.”

“Did he enter into some kind of understanding with your sister?”

“No, he did not. If he had, my opinion of him would be quite different. He is a kind soul and I find I wish to help him regardless of who he chooses. After all, I’ve had the distinct displeasure of Mrs Ferrars company and there are few I would wish to subject to her control.”

They resumed their return to the townhouse, now discussing the particulars of the offer Christopher wished to extend to Edward. Evelyn’s spirits were quite lifted and as they neared their destination, she allowed impulse to dictate her.

She ducked into a narrow walkway between the terraced gardens, pulling Christopher with her. After only briefly checking they were alone she pulled Christopher in and shamelessly kissed him. It took only a single startled moment for his hands to circle her waist; the kiss deepening.

They broke apart, both flushed and trying to regain their breath before breaking into wide grins. It was an impulsive act and completely improper given that they were not yet even engaged let alone married, but that had been part of the draw.

—--

Once she’d bid farewell to Christopher, she’d wasted no time in penning a letter to Edward, almost demanding his presence that afternoon. Keeping his arrival secret from both her sisters and Mrs Jennings was much easier than normal, the former had gone out for one last tour of the local shops in search of a present for Margaret, and the latter was still at Mr and Mrs Palmer’s residence, comforting Miss Steele. Meeting Edward alone was now the second improper thing she’d done today but the subject of their discussion necessitated privacy.

When Edward arrived, she led him to the same sitting room they’d used for his last visit. He was stiff and extremely ill at ease, she could almost detect a hint of fear which she promptly dismissed. She may have been stern with him previously but she saw no reason for such a reaction, he almost stuttered when greeting her.

“I apologise for the abruptness of the invitation, Edward. But as we are leaving on the morrow, there was no other time.”

“It is quite alright, but Miss Evelyn god knows what you must think of me.” He sounded remorseful, the guilt of it all visibly weighing down on his shoulders.

“Edward-”

“I have no right to speak, I know-”

“Edward, calm yourself. I have good news.” Evelyn said nipping in the bud what was most certainly going to be an exceedingly long apology. “Now, do please sit down.”

Evelyn resumed her seat opposite a notably calmer Edward, waiting for his undivided attention before continuing.

“I believe you know of our friend Colonel Brandon.”

“Yes, I have heard mention of him before.”

“Well, understanding your present circumstances and that you wish to join the clergy, he has great pleasure in offering you the parish on his estate at Delaford.” Evelyn watched the gentleman take in the proposition, surprise and hope blossoming in his expression.

“Colonel Brandon is offering me a parish? Can it be possible?”

“The unkindness of your family in the face of things is something he has great sympathy for.”

“I confess, Miss Evelyn, I find myself surprised that this offer comes from you, given how shamefully I have treated your sister.”

The remorse was back now, but he had given her the perfect introduction for the caveat she wished to add.

“Edward, you should know that Colonel Brandon’s proposition was originally intended to allow you and Miss Steele to marry. But… I would instead ask you if you truly still love Miss Steele.”

Edward appeared to flounder for a moment, struggling to find the words.

“I met Miss Steele while studying under her uncle in Plymouth. We fell in love rather quickly but we had not enough to marry. I returned to my family with the idea of securing the funds needed, but things took longer than I’d expected and our meetings less and less frequent.”

Evelyn dared not interrupt, captivated as she was by the truth of the situation causing her sister such heartache.

“I do not know when it occurred, nor why, but at some point I fell out of love. After that my efforts dwindled and my visits to Miss Steele ceased entirely. I had made a habit of ignoring the issue, a simple task until I met your sister.”

“Edward, please, tell me once and for all, are you in love with Elinor?”

He looked pained now, as though he had no hope.

“Yes, I do. And all I can do is apologise for the pain I’ve caused her. I-”

He began to stand now, likely in an escape attempt, but Evelyn’s hand shot out, stilling him.

“Edward, I am not yet finished.” She waited for him to regain his seat before continuing. “I asked because, from all I’ve seen of her, I do not believe Miss Steele to be in love with you. Perhaps she was at one point but I believe that now, she may find your fortune to be more attractive.”

“A- Are you certain?”

“No, but first, to make things quite clear, if she were still honestly in love with you, you would honor your word and marry her?”

“Yes.” This at least he said with surety.

“Then I recommend you find out.”

“A- And h-how exactly does one do that?”

“In this case it is rather simple, you tell her of the offer from Colonel Brandon, you tell her that you may not be able to provide her with the lifestyle afforded by your previous means but you would finally be able to marry.” 

Evelyn leaned in now, needing Edward to know the importance of the next part.

“Finally, you must give her a choice, say that you would understand if the wife of a clergyman was not what she had in mind for her future. If she’s indeed after social elevation then allowing her a way out while saving face will appeal to her. Allowing you to marry as you wish.”

Edward was silent now, mouth so agape she would have worried over him catching insects had they been outside. Satisfied that her point was made and that things would unfold as they should, she stood, Edward following suit.

“Thank you, Miss Evelyn, your advice has been invaluable, and please pass my thanks onto Colonel Brandon as well, he must be a man of great worth and respectability.”

“That he is, and please don’t thank me. I owe you actually.” Edward’s face turned to one of confusion. “I urged Miss Steele to tell your family of the engagement, mostly because she was antagonizing Elinor. I did not intend for it to become the scandal it has, though Fanny deserves most of the credit there.”

Edward left and not fifteen minutes later did Elinor and Marianne return, Mrs Jennings not far behind. Evelyn didn’t tell any of them of her afternoon visit, the last thing she wanted was for Elinor to know she was meddling. After all, should things not go as she wished, she couldn’t bear for her sister to suffer any false hope.

—--

The next morn saw them boarding a coach with the Palmers, it was a tight fit with the three Dashwoods sharing one bench. But the journey ended up being unpleasant in more ways than one. Though Mrs Jennings was staying behind to help Miss Steele, her daughter seemed intent on surpassing her mother in incessant chatter. That alone would have been irritating but with the most interesting subjects involving both her sisters it was quite insufferable.

It takes two weeks to journey from London to Cleveland, the Palmers’ estate, and the time in the coach was being filled with all the subjects the Dashwoods would rather avoid. First it was the offer from Christopher to Edward, specifically how wonderful it would be for Miss Steele to be so close to Barton. The awful woman had yet to give Edward an answer before they’d left, hardly unexpected but frustrating nonetheless.

The second topic of conversation centred around Mr Willoughby, this one flitting between admonishments of the man’s undesirable behaviour towards Marianne and gossiping over all the lavish details of his upcoming wedding to Miss Grey. Marianne had taken to staring blankly out the window, something that concerned Evelyn greatly. She believed her sister had been making progress, had possibly started to heal from Willoughby’s actions but as the days stretched on, she began to doubt that notion more and more.

Christopher acted as an extremely welcome break from Mrs Palmer. He rode his horse alongside them rather than join them in the coach, not that there was enough space. Though he could not save her for the bulk of the day, they excused themselves every evening citing their need to stretch their legs after the long days of travel. Sometimes Elinor accompanied them, but mostly they were left gloriously alone. Naturally, they used their newfound privacy to engage in less appropriate activities for an unmarried couple. Though they of course limited themselves to kissing, with the slight dalliance into heavy petting as an exciting break from the norm.

Unfortunately, even the bliss Christopher provided was dampened towards the end of their journey. Evelyn had been feeling progressively worse day after day. At first she’d written it off as another migraine, but by the third day of only worsening symptoms she had to concede that she was indeed ill. Still, she stubbornly refused to let any discomfort show and most definitely did not stop her walks with Christopher, despite how tired she was by the time they stopped.

—--

After two grueling weeks of torture at the hands of Mrs Palmer, Cleveland was a welcome sight. Ordinarily, Evelyn would have taken the time to appreciate the great house,having always found architecture fascinating, but today she could focus on little else besides her pounding head.

Christopher was there to help them all down from the coach, ever her perfect gentleman, and Evelyn revelled in the sharp, cold air as she felt the pressure behind her eyes lessen slightly.

“I do not think she drew breath from the moment we left London.” Elinor said, chuckling slightly once Mrs Palmer was out of earshot. “I should have found another way of getting home.”

“There was no other way, you said so yourself.” Marianne’s voice distinctly lacked the humor Elinor’s carried. “I think I might take a stroll, for but a moment's peace.”

“I think it is going to rain,” was Evelyn’s only contribution.

“No, it will not rain.” Marianne was already walking away.

“You always say that and it always does.” Elinor called in exasperation.

“I shall keep to the garden, near the house.” Marianne called over her shoulder, still not even pausing her progression.

“I will follow, you entertain the Palmers and I’ll make sure she’s alright.” Evelyn said, sighing slightly before retrieving a thicker coat for Marianne na following the younger Dashwood through the grounds.

Marianne, of course, did not keep to the garden. Evelyn had been following at a distance, though more so due to her current difficulty in keeping up rather than any attempt at stealth. She fell into a trance of doggedly following after her sister; the rain had come just as they knew it would and despite the two coats she wore Evelyn could feel the rain slipping down her back.

By the time she caught up to Marianne it was to see her sister stood staring at a house in the distance. She vaguely remembered Mrs Palmer’s mentions of Willoughby’s estate being close and once she did it Marianne’s intentions became clear. Evelyn knew her sister had yet to fully grieve the loss of her relationship, but right then Evelyn could have done without the dramatics. Evelyn silently cursed herself for not bringing a bonnet, she hated wearing the blasted things and had discarded it the second they left London, something she now regretted.

Coming up behind her sister, Evelyn removed one of the two coats and draped it over Marianne’s shoulders. It would do little good, her sister was already soaked through and Evelyn hadn’t fared much better despite her extra layers of protection. She let her sister cry silently for a little while before she could truly stand it no longer.

Marianne didn’t protest, only took Evelyn’s extended hand and walked with her back towards the estate. The walk back seemed to help Evelyn, she no longer felt cold at all, in fact she was actually growing quite hot. The more progress they made, the better Evelyn seemed to feel, it was not long before any notions of sickness were long forgotten.

The rest of their trek passed quickly, and the estate soon came into view. It looked quite different than Evelyn remembered, the lines of the house, which had been straight when they’d arrived, now seemed to twist and wiggle around. She found it very irritating.

The light spilling out from an opened door distracted her from the stupid building. Even through the haze created by the dense rain she recognised Christopher’s broad shoulders. After only a brief greeting she promptly threw herself into said shoulders and they were just as wonderful as she remembered, all strong and solid and completely non-wiggling. She felt his arms come around her and could have sworn she heard him say something, she may have even replied but she was much too tired to recall. Instead, she decided to ignore propriety and nuzzled into the warmth of him, falling asleep almost immediately.

—--

Brandon

When the lightning had started and the rain turned from a drizzle to falling in sheets, Brandon had begun searching the gardens for Evelyn and Miss Marianne. He had thus far checked the hothouse and any other structures the pair may have been sheltering in, only to come up empty-handed. He had just returned to the main house, retrieving a thicker coat to brave the storm, when he caught sight of two figures headed up to the house.

He almost ran to the door they were approaching, flinging the thing open so hard it would have slammed into the wall had it not been so heavy. He watched the two Dashwoods as they entered the light shed from the open doorway. A drenched Evelyn was in the lead, an equally bedraggled Marianne not far behind.

“Darling!” Evelyn’s happy shout was all the warning he got before she staggered slightly and threw herself into his arms.

“Evelyn? My dear, are you alright?” He had wrapped his arms around her now and was quickly bearing all her weight as her legs seemed to give out beneath her.

“Hmm… warm” was all he received in reply as she nuzzled her head into the crook of his neck and immediately passed out. 

His prior concern paled in comparison to what he felt now. He could feel her burning skin, heat radiating off her. Miss Dashwood had appeared at some point during the commotion, and after checking on Miss Marianne, turned her concern to Evelyn.

The addition of Mr and Mrs Palmer only added to the chaos of the situation. All his attempts at rousing Evelyn had elicited little more than grumbles at his disturbance of her sleep. Adjusting her so that he now carried her properly, he barely managed to follow the instructions Mrs Palmer was giving, the sound muffled as it was by his panic.

Shaking himself from his stupor he followed the mistress of the house and deposited Evelyn in a large bed. He knew he had to leave the room now. That her sisters would need privacy to change her out of her wet clothes. But as he left, he couldn’t help but look back, desperately trying not to remember the last time he’d seen someone he loves in such a condition.

Chapter Text

Elinor

Night had long fallen and yet Elinor remained wide awake. She’d tucked Marianne into bed some hours ago, after ensuring she was warm, dry and free of fever. It had taken both of them to do the same for Evelyn, and their attempts at drying her were quickly thwarted by the layer of sweat glistening on her flushed skin. She’d regained consciousness in small isolated bursts and all were very short lived. Elinor had never had to worry for Evelyn like this. The eldest of her sisters had always been the one she could trust to care for herself, but here she was laying in bed, alternating between burning heat and freezing shivers.

She’d been monitoring Evelyn closely, rarely daring to take her eyes off her. She’d hoped that the fever would have broken by now. Out of all of them, Evelyn spent the most time outside, only remaining indoors when the weather was particularly adverse. This was hardly the first storm her sister had been caught in and while she’d suffered the occasional bout of sickness, none had been so severe as this.

Retrieving a candle, Elinor made her way down the meandering hallways of Cleveland, eventually reaching Mr Palmer’s room. She knocked lightly, knowing she was interrupting the man’s sleep but finding that any reticence she would have normally felt was drowned out by her mounting concern.

A groggy Mr Palmer did eventually answer and Elinor wasted no time in requesting a doctor. The man seemed instantly more alert and quickly retreated back into his room, emerging but a minute later with a letter.

Elinor returned to Evelyn’s side, leaving Mr Palmer to rouse one of his staff to deliver the message. She’d thought that the promise of a proper visit by a physician would have calmed her nerves slightly, but alas such relief eluded her.

—--

Brandon

He’d barely slept. Tossing and turning, all while plagued by nightmares. He’d risen as soon as dawn light began filtering through the tall windows of his guestroom. Breakfast had been a relatively quiet affair, Mrs Palmer’s constant stream of chatter had faded into the background for him rather quickly.

The doctor had arrived blessedly quickly, Mr Palmer having expressed the urgency of the situation. Brandon had been pacing the length of the hall since the physician’s arrival, though the movement provided little distraction from his racing thoughts.

He should have proposed to her. If he had it would be far more acceptable for him to be in the room with her. Instead he’d put it off, he wanted to make the moment special and as such planned to wait for their return home. He’d been eagerly anticipating the next time he would be able to welcome Evelyn to Delaford, spring had finally come, bringing an end to the cold weather and his wisteria should be about ready to flower. The gazebo he’d wished to show her all those months ago had become a fixation of sorts for him. A goal he was trying to reach and one that presently seemed far less certain than it had only a day prior.

“You’ll wear yourself out, Colonel.” Mrs Palmer, who had been uncharacteristically silent up until now, jarred him from his musings. “Don’t worry, a day or two in bed will soon set her to rights.”

“You can rely upon Harris, Colonel. I’ve never found a better physician.” Mr Palmer at least seemed far more level-headed than his wife and Brandon appreciated the lack of shallow platitudes or ill-informed reassurances.

The sound of the chamber door opening caused his head to whip around to the source. The physician emerged first, closely followed by Miss Dashwood and Miss Marianne.

“What is the diagnosis?” He barely registered the question before it left his mouth, his being now focused on the forthcoming answer.

“It is an infectious fever. It has taken far more serious hold than I would have expected in one so young. But the young lady seems to be fighting it well, she appears to be in possession of quite the constitution.”

The relief he felt was immense. Though it was not a glowing report it did provide him with a measure of optimism. Evelyn, in the time he’d known her at least, rarely exhibited any signs of illness or infirmity. She’d never even shown any discomfort during their walks over the winter months other than the occasional shiver.

“Though, I would recommend the hasty removal of your child Mrs Palmer.” Harris’ words had the mistress of the estate running through the halls, frantically shouting for her son’s nursemaid.

Brandon simply watched the scene unfold, thankful he possessed no obligation to follow. His guestroom was already in the opposite wing to where Evelyn was residing and he found himself loath to stray too far from her. Instead, he stayed near the doctor and Miss Dashwood, intent on learning as much as he could about his beloved’s condition.

—--

Marianne

Harris, the physician, had departed little more than an hour ago and the estate had taken on a strange sort of duality. On one side the Palmers were hurriedly readying to leave their home for the safety of their young son. Though it did seem that Mrs Palmer was the primary source of the urgency, Mr Palmer had been dragged along as his wife was oft want to do.

The atmosphere for the rest of them was quite different. There was an undercurrent of tension running through all of them. It showed itself in the stiff set of Elinor’s shoulders, the Colonel’s constant pacing and her own restless legs.

She and Elinor were at Evelyn’s bedside once more. There was little more they could do, the linens were fresh and they had just placed a cold, damp cloth on their sister’s still burning forehead. She could hear the Colonel’s footsteps on the other side of the door, the man had seldom left Evelyn’s general vicinity. 

She had made a habit of avoiding the Colonel. While the man himself had not really done anything wrong, his interest in her and the pointed meddling of both Sir John and Mrs Jennings had instilled within her a great desire to steer clear of him. As such, she was not entirely caught up on whatever relationship seemed to exist between him and her sister. She’d been aware they were friends but the way he was acting now suggested far more.

Seeking both an answer and a distraction until Dr. Harris arrived for the check up, she turned to Elinor.

“Elinor, is there some sort of understanding between Evelyn and Colonel Brandon?” Elinor turned to her, shock evident on her face. “Only he seems awfully attentive and I was under the impression the two were only friends.”

Elinor took a quiet moment to recover, though from what Marianne was unsure.

“Dearest, you… you cannot possibly mean to tell me you had not noticed their relationship.”

Elinor’s mouth hung agape at the surprise she was sure was quite visible on her face.

“Forgive me, but I have been rather preoccupied with… with all that business with Willoughby. And besides I can only assume this is a recent development.” She felt embarrassment flare within her. This was now the second time she’d failed to notice one of her sisters falling in love, though Evelyn’s seemed to have occurred while she’d been out of sorts, so she could hardly be blamed for this one.

“Dearest,” Elinor’s voice had taken on the particular affectation it gained when she was about to reveal something Marianne ought already to have known. “Evelyn and the Colonel have been obviously falling for one another since before we even left for London.”

“Oh,” was all she could muster, suddenly feeling the resurgence of the guilt she’d carried since learning of Elinor and Edward’s predicament. How could she not have known? Yes they’d had that awful fight just before Willoughby left but according to Elinor this had been developing a while before that.

She was suddenly reminded of something both of her elder sisters had accused her of recently and had to admit they were right. She’d been selfish.

—--

Elinor

The Palmers’ coach was disappearing from view.She felt awful about turfing the family from their own estate but given the circumstances it could not be helped. Mr Palmer had given his sympathies and even offered to stay, something she would have ordinarily assumed was to free himself of his wife but she could read only sincerity on this occasion. This should hardly surprise her, Evelyn had apparently become a sort of friend to the usually boorish man. Elinor felt he likely appreciated her readiness to insult him back with just as much, if not more, wit than he delivered.

No sooner than she’d returned inside did one of the staff inform her of Dr Harris’ arrival. After sharing only the briefest with Marianne, the pair made their way back to Evelyn’s side, Dr Harris in tow.

The doctor was an efficient man, he wasted no time in checking Evelyn’s condition, her sister only offering displeased groans in response, as though the man was interrupting her slumber. The puzzled frown he gained, however, sent Elinor’s heart racing.

“Her fever has broken, but given that I would have expected her to begin regaining consciousness by now. Tell me, Miss Dashwood, does your sister suffer from any recurring conditions or ailments?”

Dr Harris’ assessment eased her worry a little, allowing her mind to start functioning again.

“Yes, she does, on occasion, suffer from migraines. Could that be the problem doctor?”

“Most certainly, the fever will have her dehydrated which in turn will have induced a migraine.” Seeing her concern flare once more, the kind doctor turned to her and placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “But this is good news, it means that now the treatment is very simple. Just keep giving her water, you will need to do it slowly while she remains unconscious but it should help a great deal. I would also recommend darkening the room as much as possible.”

Dr Harris straightened, preparing to leave.

“I will return tomorrow, but I suspect that by tomorrow evening she will be through the worst and will likely return to you the day after.”

Relief and gratitude were coursing through Elinor in equal measure. She escorted the doctor out, leaving Marianne to begin making the room more suitable and sending someone to fetch fresh water.

No sooner than she turned back to the estate was the Colonel in front of her. She quickly put the poor man out of his misery and shared the good news, watching him sag with the same relief she felt. This was the only time she’d ever seen the man in any way dishevelled, and though there was less tension in his frame now it was still far from gone.

“What can I do?” He sighed, more tension leaving his frame.

“Colonel, you’ve done so much already.”

“Give me an occupation, Miss Dashwood, or I shall run mad.”

“She would be easier if her mother and Margaret were here.”

“Of course.” The Colonel’s words were barely a whisper she caught on the wind before he hurried off, getting to his task immediately.

—--

Brandon

He left Cleveland just as night was beginning to fall, the dusk light barely enough to saddle his horse with. He could’ve waited til morning but he saw little point in lying in a bed not sleeping when he could be doing something useful.

He was sure his poor horse must be rather tired of him demanding they embark on such expedited journeys but he would be able to rest soon. Brandon knew that he should be able to let go of at least some of his worry and tension, that the doctor’s expertise could be trusted. Yet still he found his back stiff as a board and his jaw clenching. A part of him was aware that he would feel no true ease or relaxation until he was once again gazing into a pair of beautiful blue eyes or being captivated by her smile.

The journey to Barton was far quicker on his own, allowing him to arrive shortly before midnight. Uncaring for the impoliteness, he knocked on the door to Barton Cottage, waiting impatiently for someone to answer.

It took three more knocks for anyone to appear, but when he informed the Dashwoods’ maid of the situation she proved much quicker at rousing Mrs Dashwood. It took longer than he would have liked to calm the lady down once he’d appraised her of things, but soon he was off to Delaford. He’d left Mrs Dashwood to wake her youngest and pack for them both, giving him time to prepare his coach and collect the pair.

Neither seemed to mind their impromptu overnight journey, despite the pace which had to have made the ride uncomfortable. Nevertheless he couldn’t bring himself to slow their pace, already feeling much too far from Evelyn.

Chapter Text

Evelyn

She awoke to near darkness, she could tell it was daytime from the sun peeking beneath the heavy curtains. Unsure of how she found herself in an unfamiliar bed, she shifted to look around the room, catching sight of Elinor almost immediately. Her sister had fallen asleep at her bedside, partially on a chair and draped over the edge of the bed in what couldn’t be a comfortable sleeping arrangement.

Seeing Elinor in such a state did at least give her brain the kick it apparently needed to fill in the blanks for her. The last she really remembered was walking back towards Cleveland with a still weeping Marianne in tow, then things went fuzzy. She possessed only hazy recollections of what happened after, of arriving back at the estate and being very happy to see Christopher before promptly using him as a pillow. Not wishing to dwell on her more embarrassing actions, she shifted enough to wake her sister.

Elinor startled awake, almost falling from her chair. It took her but a moment to recover from her rude awakening and meet Evelyn’s gaze.

“You know, I’m sure there are more comfortable places to sleep.” Evelyn said, unable to resist teasing her sister despite how her voice croaked.

“You fainted and have been unconscious for four days and the first thing you do when you wake is tease the very sister who’s been caring for you.”

“I’m your sister, teasing you at inappropriate times is my birthright.” Evelyn couldn’t keep the laughter from her voice, though it came out as more of a croak than she would have liked.

She would have liked to have had a little longer with just Elinor or perhaps alone, already beginning to feel fatigue set in despite waking just minutes ago, but Marianne, Mama and Margaret all thwarted that when they burst into the room. Evelyn was quickly swept up in fervent hugs and imploring pleas to never scare them in such a manner again. The way her family kept talking over one another was swiftly resembling a whirlwind and Evelyn was now truly struggling to even slightly keep up and had resorted to nodding when it seemed appropriate.

She was saved by the arrival of Dr Harris. The man was blessedly quick and to the point, giving her a clean bill of health between good hearted lectures about listening to her body when it gives such clear signals of illness. The only part of the visit Evelyn was displeased with was Dr Harris’ prescription of bedrest. She was to remain in bed for two whole days and it was a further three before she was allowed outside again.

The doctor’s departure was at least the catalyst for her family to leave her to rest once more, with the exception of Elinor who insisted on helping her bathe. Despite Evelyn’s protests and assurances that she could manage alone, she had to admit her limbs still bore a heaviness they’d only held after doing something particularly laborious. Returning to her bed she was grateful to find that one of the staff had changed the sheets in her absence; she'd not at all been looking forward to climbing back into the ones sullied by her sickness.

The sun was setting as Elinor finished aiding her back to bed and Evelyn was unable to stifle her yawn, but there was one thing she still needed to ask of her sister before she rested. “Elinor, thank you, your help has been more necessary than I’d like to admit.”

Her sister gave her a grateful smile as she perched on the edge of the bed. “Think nothing of it, I’m just glad you’re back with us.”

Evelyn reached out to take Elinor’s hand and turned her face to the most pleading expression she could manage, complete with doe eyes. “Then would you mind doing me one more favour?”

Elinor’s brow furrowed in open suspicion, “That depends entirely upon the request.”

“Could you send Christopher in? And perhaps leave us without a chaperone?” Evelyn said, shamelessly using the situation to her advantage.

Elinor’s only reply was a sigh as she left the room, Evelyn hoped that she’d read her sister well enough to hear some kind of acquiescence in it but it could be coloured by her own wishful thinking. A few minutes passed, and she was about to give up, begrudgingly settling into the covers, before she heard two sets of footsteps coming down the hall. Excitement flared up in her, Christopher had been notably absent when her family had descended upon her. While she realised that he was likely giving her some uninterrupted time with them, she wished for once that he was a touch less considerate.

She’d just managed to prop herself up against the pillows when Christopher entered the room, Elinor closing the door after giving her a pointed look, a single brow raised in a sure sign that she disapproved of the impropriety and that Evelyn shouldn’t push it. Evelyn however, held no worries over propriety and fully intended to ignore it entirely.

The moment Christopher turned to look at her their eyes locked and she felt the happy, comfortable, languid feeling she always got around him begin to surface. He was at her side almost instantly, cupping her face in both hands as he rested his forehead against hers. They stayed like this for what felt like forever, each silently basking in the other’s presence. At some point Evelyn’s hands had come up to cup Christopher’s face, much in the same manner as his were with her’s, rubbing small circles on his cheeks with her thumbs.

Christopher was the one to lean back, pulling them both from their reveries. She was finally able to take him in, he was the most dishevelled she had ever seen him, no coat or jacket, waistcoat unbuttoned and shirt untucked. He also seemed quite haggard himself, dark circles around his eyes and the first stages of a beard coming through. He looked as though he’d barely been sleeping. “You look exhausted, my love.”

He reached over to take her hands in his. “I confess that sleep had not been so easy to find, but I care little now that you are well.”

She used their joined hands to tug him closer until he was half lying on the bed beside her. “Though I hate causing you such distress, I can hardly fault you for it. I would doubtless be in the same state if our places were reversed, though hopefully without the facial hair.”

Evelyn received the huff of laughter she’d been seeking from that, but frustratingly Christopher straightened, one of his hands releasing her’s to rub his jaw. “Yes, I do seem to be in need of a shave.”

The man seemed utterly oblivious to Evelyn’s attempt to pull him into her bed, leaving her with the direct approach. “Don’t, I rather like it actually. And will you hurry up and lie down, it’ll be exceedingly difficult to sleep together with you sat upright.”

Christopher’s face turned a vibrant shade of red she’d never seen on him before, the blush almost rivalled his camellias. His shock gave her the opportunity to once more pull him in closer. “Darling- M-my love, surely you’re not suggesting we-”

“Sleep beside one another so that we might both finally find some decent rest. Fully clothed of course.” She allowed her mischievous grin to take hold now, especially seeing as Christopher did indeed succumb to her wishes and kicked his boots off before climbing under the covers next to her.

“You are going to be the death of me. I love you.” He said, all while his arms wrapped around her and she tucked her head into the crook of his neck. “And you realise that this is only slightly less scandalous and still a huge breach of propriety.”

His arms tightened around her, pulling her impossibly closer and causing her smile to take on a decidedly satisfied tilt. “I suppose you’ll just have to marry me then.” Another yawn escaped with her suggestion, as much as she wanted to continue this conversation, it seemed that her body was insisting she actually sleep.

Christopher’s reply came out just as thick and laced with impending sleep. “I intend to. Not that that counts as a proposal. I’ve had something planned for that for a while now and I won’t allow even your teasing to deter it.”

She managed a sleepy chuckle in response followed swiftly by a happy sigh as she felt him bury his nose in the top of her hair, her eyes having closed at some point of their own accord.

—--

Elinor

Elinor woke to the morning sun streaming through the windows. She felt refreshed, the weight of worry having left her and allowing for some much needed relaxation. Donning one of her simpler dresses, she left the privacy of her room in search of the other Dashwood women. She wasn’t sure of the exact time but judging by the amount of sun she had slept in far longer than she normally would, Marianne was the only one who may have out-slept her, and of course Evelyn who was still recovering.

Elinor found that breakfast had already been served, but the table was conspicuously absent and had been for at least a little while given the temperature of the tea. Wandering towards the guestrooms where most of her family was housed, she halted as she heard a noise coming from one of the vestibules dotted around the estate. Altering her course, Elinor followed what she now knew to be Marianne and Margaret’s giggles. They led her in the direction of Evelyn’s room and she immediately realised two things, first, that Evelyn and the Colonel must have spent the entire night together despite her disapproval, and second, her other sisters were definitely spying on them.

Rounding the corner, Elinor saw not just Marianne and Margaret but also Mama peering through the ajar door at the couple. The pair must still be dead asleep if they hadn’t noticed the barely stifled twittering and giddy laughter coming from their onlookers.

Reaching the gathering, Elinor kept her voice hushed, not wanting to be the one to accidentally wake the couple. “All right, I think we’ve all seen enough and breakfast has gotten cold now.”

She and Mama managed to usher the two younger Dashwoods back towards the breakfast room. As Elinor went to shut the door, she couldn’t help but to take a small peek herself. From the slight gap left she could clearly make out the bed and the pair resting in it. A smile graced her face at how the Colonel had her sister wrapped up in his arms, both of them tucked into one another and looking completely content. She shut the door the rest of the way, quietly of course, restoring what remained of the couple’s privacy.

Returning to the now fully cold breakfast, Elinor sat amongst her family who were all aflutter, chattering and speculating over when they could expect to learn of a proposal between Evelyn and the Colonel. There were momentary deviations to how soon a wedding could be held but largely Elinor was happy to stay silent and bask in the excitement practically radiating off her family.

—--

Brandon

It must have been past noon by the time he opened his eyes, momentarily blinded by the light flooding over them from the windows. He almost stretched instinctively but was stopped by the warm weight of Evelyn laying partially overtop him. His eyes having adjusted to the afternoon light, he slowly shifted, careful not to disturb the beautiful woman currently resting in the crook of his shoulder. 

He could scarcely believe his luck. She’s utterly breathtaking, the sunlight hitting her hair practically made it glow, giving her a distinctly angelic look. A part of him sorely wished that this moment never end, that they could stay in this bubble of perfect happiness. But the thought fled as quickly as it came for he was very much looking forward to the future they would have together, hopefully filled with thousands more moments like this. 

But alas, he was getting ahead of himself, he had yet to even propose, and while there was little doubt in his mind of her answer, it felt rather too much like tempting fate. She’d already given him enough of a scare with this bout of fever and after losing one love he was determined to hold on to this one with everything he had.

His musings were halted as a certain pair of stunning blue eyes fluttered open. As they focused on his face he was greeted with a wide, contented smile. “I think I shall quite enjoy waking up like this for the rest of my life.” Evelyn’s voice was still husky with sleep, and he found the rough edge to it entirely too arousing. “What time is it?” She asked, having taken her eyes off him to survey the room.

“I can’t be entirely sure but I believe it to be past noon.” He said as he began running his fingers up and down her shoulder and ignoring the voice in his head that complained of her nightgown being in the way.

Evelyn shuffled so that she now lay completely overtop him, as he attempted to covertly hide the other part of him that had been awoken by the feeling of her warmth pressed against him. “Hm, then I suspect we’ve been found out. I hope you’re up for some extremely thinly veiled meddling, I imagine only Elinor will be able to contain herself.”

“For you I believe I will manage.” His voice was slightly strained, and he tried to cover his tension with a smile, all while a certain part of his anatomy seemed determined to make himself known.

Mercifully Evelyn rolled off his person and as she ducked behind the dressing screen, he took his cue to leave. He made sure to take the long route back to his own room, now that he was standing there was no hiding his obvious arousal and it most definitely wouldn’t do for any of the other Dashwoods to see him in such a state.

Relief washed over him the second he made it into his room. She was definitely going to be the death of him.

Chapter Text

Evelyn

Evelyn had expected mandatory bedrest to be far worse than it had turned out to be. Despite her repeated attempts to ignore Dr Harris’ orders, all of which were thwarted by both Elinor and Christopher, she had found the experience to be rather enjoyable at times. This was in no small part due to Christopher’s almost constant presence, while he’d teasingly refused her further attempts to share a bed and deemed her an incorrigible flirt, he’d spent almost every waking moment by her side.

She may have told just a few white lies during her recuperation. An example of such being that her arms always seemed impossibly tired and as such she couldn’t possibly lift anything so heavy as a book. The fact that this meant Christopher had taken up the task of reading to her was merely a happy accident, and definitely not an excuse to indulge in the richness of his voice for hours on end.

She was eventually released and their party wasted no time in departing for Barton once more, all eager to return to their own homes. The remaining journey was mercifully short, causing Evelyn some annoyance, if only she had managed to hold out for just one more day and all the fuss surrounding her illness could have been avoided.

Stepping over the threshold into Barton Cottage eased the final echoes of tension from her shoulders, the familiar sounds and smells washing over her. Unpacking, as always, seemed far too swift, as though she’d not spent months away. Much had changed since she last stood in their shared bedroom, Marianne had experienced her first and hopefully last heartbreak, Elinor’s own tragedy was hopefully on its way to being rectified and Evelyn had finally told Christopher she loved him. The thought of her hopefully soon to be fiancé brought a small, soft smile that blossomed over her lips. Dragging herself away from her thoughts, lest she spend the entire afternoon thinking of Christopher, she finally left the room to join the other Dashwoods out on the lawn. After all, why waste time merely thinking of him when the man in question was once again making his way up the path to the cottage.

—--

Life had mellowed over the following weeks, the Dashwoods settled back into a comfortable, leisurely routine. Mornings were left to their own devices and the afternoons not spent at Barton Park were often designated as family time, with the addition of Christopher of course. Most evenings saw them all dining with Sir John and Mrs Jennings, the latter of which had found seemingly endless amusement in needling Christopher for information on when he planned to propose.

On the subject of said anticipated proposal, Christopher had been rather tight-lipped. Evelyn possessed no more doubts about their relationship or that there was indeed a proposal incoming, but the waiting was killing her. Every time the infuriating man was questioned on the matter he simply gave a short cryptic answer, usually some variation of ‘good things come to those who wait’. The mischievous glint in his eyes and the conspiratorial smile he would get were at least enough to hold her over despite the perpetual suspense.

One particular afternoon, the Dashwoods found themselves sitting around the table, each occupied with their own activities, Margaret was practicing her French, the three eldest sisters read, while Mama was working on some embroidery. Christopher was notably absent for once, occupied with the imminent arrival of Miss Eliza and little Claire. The arrival of Tom provided a small distraction as he returned from Exeter, bringing news of the latest gossip among the gentry. Most of it was concerning various names which Evelyn didn’t recognise until one particular name came up which they all absolutely did. “Oh, and Mr Ferrars is married, but of course you know that ma’am.”

Evelyn’s mood soured instantly watching Elinor freeze in place. She’d written to Edward since their return to Barton enquiring if his absence meant he’d come to a decision. She’d yet to receive a reply but had found out from Christopher that he had indeed accepted the position at the parish at Delaford. Evelyn desperately hoped that she was missing something, for Edward moving here with Miss Steele, or perhaps the new Mrs Ferrars, was the worst possibility.

“Who told you that Mr Ferrars was married, Thomas?” Evelyn’s head snapped up at Mama’s enquiry. Surely this was just some idle gossip from some unreliable source wishing to stir up some intrigue based on the scandal in London.

“I seen Mrs. Ferrars myself ma’am. Miss Lucy Steele as was.” Evelyn could feel herself growing more desperate with each word from Tom’s mouth. How could she have been so wrong? She’d not truly expected Edward to marry the awful woman. She’d thought that after he’d given up his inheritance and slipped the yoke of his shrew of a mother that he would have practically run after Elinor.

Evelyn had never been so wrong, so utterly incorrect about a situation, let alone a person. Besides, even if Edward had agreed to this doomed marriage, was she supposed to believe that the new Mrs. Ferrars was perfectly fine with his now far more limited means? Surely not, there had to be something she was missing. “And did Mr. Ferrars seem happy?” Marianne’s use of ‘Mr. Ferrars’ was telling enough of how she felt on the matter but the wording gave Evelyn the missing piece she’d been grasping at. There were two ‘Mr. Ferrars’ and only one of them was set to inherit now.

“She and Mr. Ferrars were stopping in a chaise at the New London inn. I happen’ to look up as I walked by and seen it was Miss Steele, so I took off my hat. And she enquired after you ma’am, and all you young ladies, especially Miss Dashwood. She bid me to give you her’s and Mr. Ferrars’ best compliments and service. And they’ll be sure to send you a piece of the cake.”

Elinor had grown stiffer and stiffer with each syllable, looking as though she could shatter at the merest touch. When she started to move it was all at once and Evelyn had to shoot one of her hands out to halt her. “So you must have also gotten a good look at Mr. Ferrars then Tom?” One of Elinor’s brows raised at Evelyn’s line of questioning, but another encouraging tug on her arm got her to sit once more.

“Oh, aye, Miss Evelyn. Seemed quite happy with the way of things.”

“Tom, would you describe Mr Ferrars as having a strong jaw? And how were his teeth? Oh! And did he have brown eyes or blue?” Evelyn’s rapid-fire questions had clearly taken poor Tom aback but all the other Dashwoods, save Margaret, had caught on to what she was asking.

“Urm, I confess I didn’t take that close of a look, Miss Evelyn, but no his jaw didn’t seem all that special or I might have noticed it. His teeth were a little on the crooked side, mind. And his eyes were brown I believe.” Evelyn grinned at this, her worrisome disbelief being quickly replaced by glee and a heady dose of triumph. Elinor’s face had slackened in surprise but the small gleam of hope that lit her eyes was of far more interest to Evelyn. Mama and Marianne also seemed to have cottoned onto the conclusion the two eldest sisters had reached, that the Mr. Ferrars Tom was referring to was in fact Robert, not Edward.

His tasks finished, Tom left the room, and all attention turned towards Elinor. Whatever input they all wanted from the eldest Dashwood they were deprived of however, Elinor stood and swiftly left the room, the surprise overlaying the joy in her face was apparently all they were to get for now.

—--

The following day saw Christopher at their door once again, though in a deviation from their current norm, he invited Evelyn to spend the afternoon with him at Delaford, citing their absence from the hothouse as the reason. As had also become routine since their return from Cleveland, Mama and Marianne insisted Evelyn wear one of her nicer dresses when seeing Christopher. They only wanted her to be properly dressed, anticipating that a proposal would be coming any day now, but Evelyn had effectively been wearing the same 4 dresses in a near constant cycle now.

Thus Evelyn found herself once more clad in a light blue silk taffeta gown, it had flowing sleeves made of a gauzy muslin that came just shy of her elbows, and boasted sections of elaborate embroidery under the bust and along the hem. The embroidery had been a recent addition from Mama who had to be convinced to keep at least the colours somewhat understated. If Mama had had her way, the dress would be more embroidery than fabric. Evelyn once again sent Elinor her silent thanks for convincing Mama to put the needles down, though it had taken the threat of no more beef to really have any impact.

The carriage rolled to a stop before her, and Christopher promptly alighted. He wore one of his finer jackets today, dark green in colour and well tailored, it made a nice change from his usual black. He extended his hand to assist her into the carriage and Evelyn was just able to catch a glimpse of her family with their faces nearly pressed against the front window.

It was not lost on Evelyn that they likely all thought that today was to be the day. She’d of course had such thoughts of her own with the recent deviations from their routine and though she had been to Delaford without chaperone plenty of times before, today felt different. The hope building inside her was hard to ignore and even more difficult to suppress. She dare not allow herself to entertain it, at this point she’d promised herself she would stop getting worked up until Christopher was down on one knee. Besides, she trusted him completely. He had to have a good reason for delaying what they all believed to be inevitable, the arrival of Eliza and little Claire would admittedly count as such a reason but still she resolved herself not to get too ahead.

The ride to Delaford was filled with small talk, irritatingly dancing around the subject of marriage or proposals. She would have to find a way to get back at Christopher for all these infuriating smirks and knowing half-smiles, perhaps she could do something similar when they were expecting their first child. Now wearing a smirk of her own she found the small talk much more bearable and that their dance around certain subjects was actually quite fun.

Once the couple had arrived Christopher began leading her around the side of the main house, side by side with her hand resting in the crook of his elbow. When they reached the hothouse and Christopher continued right past it her suspicions were piqued and she couldn’t hold back from questioning him. “I thought we were visiting the hothouse?”

The knowing smile returned. “There is actually another plant I should like your expertise on. It is a little further into the grounds.” They resumed their pace, the hopeful suspicion was now impossible to dismiss and must have been showing on her face for the smile only grew wider.

They entered a part of the gardens she’d never been before and as they rounded the corner of a tall hedgerow, a gasp of awe escaped her. This portion of Delaford’s grounds boasted a lovely patio nestled in a ring of flowerbeds cut by four paths leading to the center. The part which truly stole her breath was the gazebo, Evelyn could just make out that it was made of the same pale stone as the paving beneath, the rest was covered in one of the largest and most beautiful wisterias she’d ever laid eyes upon.

“I believe it’s doing rather well but, in anticipation of the estate’s new mistress, I should like to spread some cuttings from it to other areas. Wisterias are her favourite after all.” His breath was warm on her ear as he leaned in. For her part Evelyn remained captivated in stunned silence, from the sight before her and compounded by those words.

Christopher, who was not suffering from a temporary out-of-body experience gently tugged her along so that they both stood beneath the gazebo. There was enough of the gorgeous light purple flowers that they hung from the edges of the roof, making the view from inside appear framed by them. She was broken from her reveries by Christopher moving to stand before her. Their eyes met and Evelyn was certain they must have looked like a scene from one of Marianne’s romance novels.

“I had wanted to show you this some time ago, ever since you said wisteria was your favourite all those months ago. It was the reason behind the picnic, and where I had intended to tell you that I love you.” He grasped both her hands in his as he lowered himself to one knee. “I think the most foolish thing I have ever done was believing myself to hold any real affection for your sister. The idea that in my folly I could have overlooked you, that I could have missed you entirely, is a nightmare I never wish to contemplate. You were unexpected in the best way and even when I believe that I know you, you still manage to surprise me.”

Evelyn’s heart was racing. It was happening. This handsome, amazing man was not simply proposing to her but also smoothing over the old fears that she was perhaps as dull and not worth the time as some people had implied. Lord she loves this man.

“So, Evelyn, I would ask that you continue to astound me, to continue to be the wonderful woman you are and to stay by my side for the rest of our lives.”

It took a moment for her to catch her breath. To formulate a worthy response to what were some of the sweetest words she’d ever heard, words that she would cherish. “When we first met, I could tell you were a good man from how you spoke to Margaret. After, I found myself at a loss. I couldn’t understand how anyone could overlook your kindness, how they could miss the romantic which seemed so obvious to me. I know that I am not one for large, grand, gestures of affection. That some may believe my feelings lesser as a result but I think that one of the greatest ways of showing love is consistency. I want nothing more than to show you how much I love you in thousands of small ways, every day, for the rest of our lives.”

He rose to his feet, eyes still locked on hers, that soft smile she loved apparent on his face. “Then, would you do me the honour of becoming my wife?”

Evelyn felt her smile light up her face, the joy she felt spilling out, unabated and unabashed. “Yes, I would love nothing more.”

Now grinning as much as she was, he released one of her hands to retrieve a small velvet-covered box from his pocket before opening it to present her with a ring. It was as stunning as every other part of the proposal had been, a gold band set with an emerald cut blue tourmaline at its center and small teardrop shaped diamonds swirling either side, almost looking like a pair of leafy vines coming off the sides of the larger stone.

“Hmm, I was right.” He said, slipping the ring onto her finger, as the question must have appeared on her face. “It is almost the exact same shade as your eyes when they catch the light, your eyes are far prettier though.”

She chuckled at his flattery, bringing her face closer to his. “It is beautiful, and this was perfect. Thank you.” She wasted no more time in pressing her lips to his, having missed the sensation dearly over the last weeks as they’d always had an audience. It was heady, and had she any breath left it would have surely been taken.

Breaking apart, they were still grinning like children. “How angry do you think everyone would be if we eloped? The idea of waiting to be married to you is unbearable.”

“I’m afraid we shall have to stay strong, my love. I fear that your mother if not your sisters would skin me alive were I to abscond with you.” Her answering pout was short-lived as the corners of her mouth couldn’t seem to stay down long enough to maintain the expression.

—--

After enjoying some much needed alone time out under the gazebo they began meandering back to the house. She’d barely crossed the threshold when she was nearly barreled over by the other Dashwood women. At some stage of the maelstrom, Marianne grasped ahold of her hand and held it up so that the light caught its new adornment. The series of gasps that followed at least provided enough of a pause for Evelyn to regain her composure. The steadying hand Christopher laid on the small of her back was of no small comfort and tilting her head back to glance at him she found him to be already gazing lovingly at her.

Refocusing on the horde before her, Evelyn noted that there was more than just her family in attendance. Eliza was quiet enough that she could forgive herself for not noticing her at first, but how she’d failed to miss both Mrs Jennings and Sir John was beyond her. Still, it seems that her soon to be husband was still a skilled commander if he’d managed to orchestrate all this without her catching wind of it. With hindsight she now had a much better understanding of why Mama had seemed particularly frantic that morning, but even so she would have to get Christopher to explain in detail how he managed to ensure Mrs Jennings’ silence on the matter.

They dined at Delaford that evening; the atmosphere was warm and happy, Evelyn pictured many such evenings in the future, once this became her home. There were a few occasions where Evelyn’s head began spinning from the combined attentions of all the other women and their many ideas for her and Christopher’s wedding, but she managed.

Leaving Delaford that night was more of a struggle than she expected. While Christopher had not made her wait particularly long for the proposal by societal standards, it had still seemed like an eternity, and now all she wanted was to be married to him.

—--

Evelyn and Christopher were almost inseparable over the next couple of weeks, a fact that both Mama and Mrs Jennings frequently took advantage of. The couple had been subjected to many bombardments of wedding questions thus far. Surely there was nothing left to plan, the church was booked, the minister informed, invitations had been sent, and neither of them wanted anything lavish. A summer wedding at Barton Church with only friends and family in attendance sounded perfect.

Both Evelyn and Christopher had been in desperate need of some time alone together today. They’d enjoyed an almost excessively long walk, leaving Evelyn with more of an ache in her legs than she would care to admit. The sight that greeted them when they returned to Barton Cottage was a strange one. Walking up the path Evelyn saw almost all of her family gathered in the front garden next to the tree holding Margaret’s newly built treehouse. Elinor was conspicuously absent and must still be inside given the direction of everyone else’s attention.

After sharing a confused glance with Christopher, they approached the gaggle of apparently excited Dashwood’s. As per usual her Mama and two younger sisters were far from quiet in their animated discussion, which Evelyn suspected was supposed to be an attempt at covert eavesdropping. They still had yet to notice the couple’s arrival and Evelyn was becoming increasingly unable to ignore her curiosity. “Are one of you going to tell me what on earth is going on or are you all too busy?”

Mama and Marianne spun on their heels, clearly quite shocked at their presence despite that they hadn’t even thought to sneak up on them. “Edward’s here! He’s inside talking to Elinor!” Evelyn’s eyes flew wide at the anticipation in Margaret’s voice and she promptly pulled Christopher along as she joined Mama and Marianne, her aching legs long forgotten.

Margaret had taken it upon herself to use the treehouse for a vantage point now. Evelyn could hardly blame her seeing as she was the only one of them too short to see through the windows when standing. Mama was less keen, but Margaret seemed quite content to ignore her worrying and had started providing a running commentary. “He’s sitting next to her!” This time she actually remembered to lower her voice somewhat, though she was still doing a sort of whispered shout.

The answering ‘Margaret, will you stop that?’ and ‘Come down’ from Mama was drowned out or simply ignored by her youngest. Marianne’s encouragement and repeated questions of ‘What else?’ were apparently eclipsing any desire Margaret may have had to listen.

“He’s holding her hands! He’s standing! No, he’s kneeling down!”

Finally, Evelyn thought snuggling into Christopher’s side as he gave her another of his long loving stares. A sigh of complete bliss escaped her. Here she stood with the man she loves as one of her sister’s finds her happiness and now she has someone else to direct Mama’s wedding frenzy at.

Chapter Text

Evelyn

The sun seemed brighter today, the colours of the world more vibrant. She was clad in pale blue again, choosing the colour for her wedding dress after Christopher had mentioned that it was one of his favourite colours on her. The satin wedding dress is the most beautiful she now owned, embroidered and embellished with beads that caught the light just so, but not so overdone as to lack elegance. Stepping out from the church, arm in arm with her new husband, Evelyn felt her smile widen impossible more. Their guests and the residents of Barton village left a path for the newlyweds to their carriage, all while throwing bird seed up in the air. Christopher half turned to her as he tightened his grip on her hand, his smile was as wide as hers and his eyes just as alight.

Arriving home at Delaford, Christopher insisted upon carrying her across the threshold, eliciting several delighted gasps from the women in attendance. Delaford was to be rather full for the time being, several of Christopher’s military friends had attended their wedding in place of his family and the couple had decided to host the lot of them. Indeed, the only guests in attendance who were neither local nor being hosted at Delaford were John and Fanny, who had been invited only out of obligation. Evelyn felt a great deal of satisfaction, probably too much, when they informed her of their lodgings at the inn as though it were some terrible hardship.

The rest of the day was filled with celebration and cheer. Mama and Mrs Jennings had turned their focus onto Edward and Elinor at some point after dinner, they’d decided to have a rather long engagement and as such had delayed their wedding to next month, much to the annoyance of the older women. Marianne and Eliza had spent much of the day together, the pair having become fast friends after bonding over their shared experiences with Mr Willoughby.

As the wedding night approached Evelyn could feel herself getting more nervous by the minute, which she kept telling herself was ridiculous. For God’s sake they’d already slept in the same bed before and while their activities tonight were set to be rather different, it wasn’t as if she was going in completely ignorant. Besides, he’d seen her in her sickbed and hadn’t run screaming, in fact it had taken very little prompting for him to crawl in. Everything would be fine.

It was not fine. Fine is in no way an adequate word to describe their first marital night together, yes there had been some pain initially as Mama had warned her, but what followed had thoroughly erased any and all discomfort. She would have to convince Christopher to make such activities a very regular occurrence. Christopher needed very little convincing.

—--

Evelyn, 5 Years Later

The dawn light had just started peeking through the windows when Evelyn felt herself being roused from sleep. At first she thought perhaps Christopher had just moved in his sleep and accidently jostled her awake, as was an expected hazard when she slept wrapped around him. Then she heard the bed covers rustling and was made aware of something at the bottom of their bed, something that was now attempting to crawl its way between them.

The first time this had happened she’d thought it to be one of the dogs but frankly they were far too well trained for such behaviour. One who was not so well trained was their four-year-old son, so when Evelyn cracked one of her eyes open the mop of golden curls sneaking up the bed was far from a surprise. Shutting her eyes again, she allowed herself a small contented smile, knowing that Henry wouldn’t notice she’d awoken. Shifting as subtly as she could manage, so as to protect her heavily pregnant belly from sharp little elbows, she made a small crevice between herself and Christopher for their little hellion to squeeze into. If there was a merciful god, then he would simply crawl in and go back to sleep.

The jostling continued, and she had little doubt that Christopher was now fully awake as well. She believed their sleepy morning could still be salvaged until the whispered “Papa, Mama” came from between them. God was apparently not feeling overly merciful today.

“You know it’s far too early for this, my boy.” Came Christopher’s sleep laden reply. He was probably hoping she was still asleep, his usual attentiveness and caring instincts were rather heightened while she was pregnant.

She felt and heard Henry’s reluctant withdrawal, which he only agreed to after Christopher had promised him sword practice before Marianne arrived with her family. When the door clicked shut, she opened her eyes to see Christopher slowly settling back into their snuggled position. “You know that means you’ll be teaching Claire as well this morning.”

“Most likely, the pair do seem to be inseparable.” He said, pulling her closer until she was tucked into his side, head on his shoulder and belly settled into the curve of his waist. The pair sharing a contented sigh as both started going back to sleep, which was of course interrupted by the kicks of the latest addition to their family. “And apparently, someone doesn’t wish to be outdone by their sibling.”

—--

The afternoon saw all the Dashwood’s in one location again, something that had become a much rarer occurrence when Marianne had married Captain James Warwickson, one of Christopher’s younger friends from the Navy. The couple now resided at James’ estate in Wiltshire which was a few days away by coach. They were to visit and reside at Delaford for the summer at least. Since welcoming their first child, a little girl named Amelia, just over a year ago, Mama had been desperate to spend some time with her latest grandchild.

They had built quite the extensive family over the last five years. Margaret was the only one of the Dashwood sisters yet to be married, but given how things had been progressing with a certain aspiring cartographer and would be explorer by the name of Mr. Joseph Clark, they were all expecting that to change quite soon. Elinor and Edward had two children now, both girls, Lydia was the elder and Christina was the younger by two years. Eliza had sworn off men, a fact that she liked to remind people of, mostly Mrs Jennings when she picked at the young mother and her obvious fondness of Mr. Michael Pritchard, one of Edward’s school friends now turned barrister.

Yes, Evelyn was quite pleased with how things had turned out. Family life suited her well, and motherhood was already keeping her busy, something she was looking forward to more of when their second decided to come.

—-- End —--