Work Text:
The visit to London was a disaster, but it ended as well as could be expected. The Dashwoods left the wreckage behind in a loaned carriage; Elinor could feel the wheels rolling over ruined hopes with every cobblestone in their path. Reaching the outskirts of the city, passing over into the woods and to smoother roads, she felt it all fade. The ballroom, the tears, the last visit of Colonel Brandon before word came that he would not return, duty calling him elsewhere. Lucy Steele’s triumph and the broken countenance of her fiancé, stoicism beyond him. The beaux on Anne’s doorstep, imagined or not.
Elinor took Marianne’s hand and they both sighed.
-
Cleveland was to be their refuge, one stop and overnight before they could reach home. Alas, it was to be much more!
Charlotte Palmer was beside herself with joy, having inherited her mother’s enthusiasm for a crowd; the Dashwoods would meet with Mr. Palmer’s friends, and join an already merry house party underway! Wasn’t that just the thing, exactly what could heal broken hearts? And they must stay, absolutely they must, she would send to their mother for whatever clothes they might need, for the gathering was to last another fortnight and they would need their very best, or whatever was closest.
Willoughby would not, of course, be there, however close his wretched estate might be, and on that subject even Charlotte Palmer found it best to be silent.
-
Who would they meet, who were Mr. Palmer’s friends?
There was a mixed crowd, a Mr. Darcy and his particular friend, Mr. Bingley. Mr. Bingley’s sister Caroline, not one of Charlotte’s favorites but someone to balance numbers. A Mr. Galloway and older sister, one Hetty Galloway, who was one of Charlotte’s favorites. After a few days they expected Sir John and Mrs. Middleton, if the latter could be spared from the nursery, and one or two titled young men and their young brides were to meet them that same day.
“All very good company, save for Miss Bingley, but you’ll see by and by how amusing she can be when she tries! And you need not worry about the men, you know, they are good sorts, and Mr. Darcy’s presence will keep them in check. Why he’s as stern as my Thomas, if not as droll! And very eligible, though he’s never really interested in courting a girl. Not one of the beaux, as that insufferable Anne Steele might say. But Miss Dashwood, Miss Marianne, I promise not to let a soul impose on you, and you may have as much solitude as is proper, so long as you come to dinner once in a while! My mother made me promise not to let you languish! And Mr. Palmer is happy to see you home at the end of all this.”
-
Cold had come to Cleveland, and with it the barest hint of snow, which put paid to some of the plans of this mixed crowd. Marianne confined herself to the library, and if she met anyone there, we will find out by and by.
The snow fell harder and by the third day of the Dashwoods’ visit, there could be no hunting, though this had begun as a hunting party, as much as Thomas Palmer tolerated such. It was only a hardship for the first few hours, for conversation was a second favorite activity of most of the company.
Elinor found herself in a quiet debate about poetry with Miss Galloway. Elinor had a great many favorites, even if she did leave Shakespeare’s sonnets to her sister, and Miss Galloway was less enamored with the genre. Though they spoke quite low so as not to disturb a nearby impromptu card game, they attracted notice.
Charles Bingley was far from looking for love. His recent time in London had been disappointing in that regard, and he was more interested in finding someone for Caroline. Someone who wasn’t Darcy, it should be said, for he had told Bingley in no uncertain terms that it was impossible. Mr. Galloway might do, if Caroline could be bothered to look his way; he had seven thousand a year and was in line to inherit a baronetcy, and his sister had more poise and refinement than many a young lady in Caroline’s usual circle.
To that last point, Charles was wondering about Miss Galloway himself, and let himself eavesdrop on the conversation she was having with Miss Dashwood.
Miss Galloway owned that she was less interested in romantic poetry than she was novels, and even then, she was distracted so easily and found it difficult to settle. Charles took that in and recognized himself; easily distracted, settling is difficult. He sighed inwardly, having just been criticized for these things by Darcy, who was urging his friend to find steadiness and leave chaos behind.
Miss Dashwood shared that she loved poetry of all kinds and had recently come to enjoy histories and the like. She felt drawn to them, she said, because her father had loved them. He had also loved politics and economics, and she was curious about them. Miss Galloway laughed, saying they had no business reading such dull stuff, and encouraged her companion to try Scott.
Charles was seated so that he saw both the ladies’ faces, and saw Miss Dashwood’s countenance fall ever so slightly. Disappointment in finding no serious conversant after all, maybe. Charles knew it well, often seeing the same on Darcy’s face.
But now he was invested, he needed to know what else might be said, and the ladies took up other conversation, moving to discuss domestic concerns and touching briefly on loves sought and lost.
“Surely Miss Dashwood, there is someone?” Miss Galloway continued on to describe a recent encounter of her own, and there Charles made himself stop listening, as now it became clear Miss Galloway’s heart was not easily touched, or rather, she had no desire to settle quite yet.
Miss Dashwood looked out the window after this exchange, as Miss Galloway left her to find refreshment, and now Charles, the game in front of him quite done, could look at Miss Dashwood fully. Soft brown curls around her face; sorrow somewhere close, but held tightly. She sighed and put a hand to her neck, holding a necklace of some kind.
A rumor had moved through the room just before Mrs. Palmer arrived with her friends, that they were fresh off mourning for their father and living in somewhat reduced circumstances. There had been a disappointment in London, some kind of loverly fracas that necessitated their coming here, and Mrs. Palmer was their rescuer.
The sisters had confirmed nothing, nor denied it, and the company was glad enough to have variety in their set that none questioned them. Marianne was sad, and Elinor quiet, but there was exuberance enough in the party to render that unimportant.
Charles found himself curious about Miss Dashwood. Though Miss Galloway’s lightness had attracted him, he was fonder of the softness that characterized Miss Dashwood. Softness, but now looking at her, a firmness of character, a steadiness that Charles really did aspire to. Not so firm as Darcy, but who was, or cared to be?
He moved toward her, and asked about her family.
-
Elsewhere, Marianne. Still in the library, still browsing.
The Palmers had an impressive library, quite on par with that at her beloved and lost Norland, and she had every intention of taking up her post permanently with these walls whilst at Cleveland. And she might have done, had not Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy intruded on her notice.
He was seeking refuge, too, though it was hardly clear from the storm on his brow. Marianne was in no mood to soothe storms from any brow, so fresh were her own to the surface, and she turned from him so that he may see her disinterest.
She really could not have done anything that might attract the notice of Mr. Darcy more. He was chased in every ballroom, hunted at every house party. He was tired, and had come to Cleveland to escape the season; he and Palmer were much alike, and save for the Dashwoods, the party was well known to him. Miss Galloway had laughed off a match and Miss Bingley was increasingly aware of the futility of her own suit, so this was a safe place for Darcy.
Safe until Miss Marianne Dashwood turned her face away, that is.
They sat together (not together, not near one another, no) in the library until a bell rang to signal tea, and they neither of them spoke of those quiet hours.
-
Could it be that Charles Bingley was in a fair way to fall in love?
Well, yes.
Elinor had warmed considerably, being asked about her father, and able to speak about Norland and all that she missed there. It was lovely to speak about those things, and not for a moment have to defend herself against the charge of a broken heart in Sussex. Her countenance was joyful, and Charles Bingley absolutely noticed that it was he who brought it about.
So was she, later, reviewing the events of the day.
She had told Marianne about the pressures of hiding Lucy Steele’s damning truth, how it had hurt her to do it, how she had no freedom to discuss how she felt. It wasn’t until now that Elinor realized how much she had lost, but also how much she hadn’t really had. Those days with Edward were dusty memories, in truth, and she had craved the attention that Marianne received from Willoughby. Yes, that had ended in a tragic way, and Willoughby had been a man of low morals, but there had also been those giddy early days when Marianne was all he could see.
Mr. Bingley was not Mr. Willoughby; he brought no energy suggesting he was easy to please and desired to be so. Mr. Bingley, in the drawing room, had been curious and interested, a feeling man who saw something that needed to be reached. Elinor had no notion that she craved what he offered until they were deep in conversation, and by then, she had a sense that maybe she could love more easily.
The hope now was that perhaps he felt the same, and she would keep her counsel until she knew. Little would stop her if this was real, for prudence and patience would allow her time enough to understand him, and some previously ignored sensibility would allow her time enough to learn his heart and hers.
-
Dinner that night saw the Dashwoods in finer spirits than in their first days after arrival, and Charlotte Palmer thrilled to see it.
The company in general was happier and the conversation flowed better than any expected, given the weather and the confines of the house. Sir John had come that afternoon, his darling wife actually by his side, and while she added little to any conversation, he added much, at least for the men. It was an animated party that came back together after port and sherry.
Notable pairings had begun to form. Mr. Galloway had finally found common ground with Caroline Bingley and they spoke by the fire about many things. Miss Galloway was happy enough to be teased by Sir John for her misadventures in love, and there were the visiting newlywed couples previously mentioned to propose whist or another card game in short order.
Marianne did not speak much with Mr. Darcy, but that was to the satisfaction of both, and when he finally deigned to ask what book had drawn her in during their time in the library, Marianne had decided he had exactly the sort of character that could soothe her rumpled soul, and a conversation began that would hardly stop in the days and weeks to come.
It was Elinor Dashwood and Charles Bingley that really stood out that evening. Elinor, all sense, all prudence and patience, let her feelings, however new and tender, show on her face. She was not in love with Charles Bingley, but she was open to the idea. And Bingley, heretofore always in search of an angel, had discovered that a grounded saint was far better, and settled in to the business of making himself as agreeable as possible. ‘Twas easy to do, with Darcy so distracted!
-
Charlotte Palmer waved at her husband’s carriage, as he drove away to deliver the Dashwoods to their mother. Not terribly far behind him were Darcy and Bingley, off for a short visit to Barton Park for a promised hunt with Sir John.
And perhaps more.
Her letter to her mother in London tells us all.
“But of course there could be no happier ending than these matches, and look with what ease I was able to bring them about! We need never worry that Mr. F. or Mr. W. will make our Dashwood girls unhappy again, for what joy they will have in their new lives! Even there I must be cautious, for nothing is settled, but if you could have seen Mr. Darcy’s animation in debate with Miss Marianne! Oh, nothing brought Sir John more delight than the raucous dinner table discussion that ensued, though Mr. Palmer will say it was not raucous and I quite misunderstand the term. And Mother, when I tell you, Elinor Dashwood is a new woman, quite changed from her stern ways! Why Charles Bingley might have proposed sooner had the snow not melted and the frost allowed for a hunt on those last days! The carriage is off and Mr. Palmer promises to be home soon, and our other guests are leaving in the morning, so I must away, but Mother, only think! Two friends so well married – or soon to be!”