A Modern Day Sense and Sensibility: An Adaptation of Jane Austen's Classic (32 page)

Diane, who was preparing lunch in the kitchen, observed Marianne’s retreat before looking to Ellie for an explanation. Ellie took a deep breath before coming inside, digesting the realization that Marianne was no longer a child. Those sensibilities which had guided her sister all those years had now been replaced with womanhood. Marianne’s feelings concerning Willoughby, although evidently still painful, showed she now understood what true and lasting love was all about. Love is not just about being young, beautiful, and in the prime of your life—overwhelmed with passion—but rather standing beside someone through the ups and downs, good times and bad.

As Ellie went inside to face her mother, she tucked these thoughts away in her head, promising herself to never settle for less.

She’d finally finished it. Dropping her paint brush into the rinsing jar, Marianne sat back to admire the piece in its entirety. The painting she’d started all those months ago while still living at their home in Seattle could now be framed and admired. But oh, how much it had changed, a change reflected in the new Marianne. The more mature Marianne no longer believed love meant to burn with or be swept up in passion. Rather, it was a slow blossoming of the heart.

Having completely painted over the original infusion of orange, purple, blue and green, Marianne had replaced it with delicate hues of light purple and blue as a backdrop for the image of two people holding hands. This time the painting didn’t need calligraphy to convey its message, the emphasis on unity spoke volumes.

Glancing at the clock, Marianne was surprised by how slowly time seemed to be passing. What she’d thought would be a full day’s work of dedicated painting had actually taken only several hours. She had hoped the activity would give time wings, considering how hard it was to fill the empty days since Brandon left. He’d only been gone two days, yet Marianne was surprised by how much she missed him.

Her eyes moved about her bedroom and came to rest on the opened book on her desk, Brandon’s gift to her on the plane. She’d been reading it earlier but finally had to put it down, too restless with thoughts of him to concentrate
on the images and literature. How could it be that without him around, she was beginning to feel incomplete? With his departure, Brandon had also taken with him her peace of mind. Marianne chuckled over this odd sensation, recalling the discussion she’d shared with her mother just the other night concerning Brandon’s age. When she’d first met him, his thirty-plus years had been a real turn-off to then eighteen-year-old Marianne. But now it only seemed an advantage. A year older and also wiser due to her recent heartbreak, Marianne found his maturity and life-experience attractive. And, well, she couldn’t help but notice lately how much he resembled a light-haired Bradley Cooper in both looks and form.

Diane, working alongside Margaret in the kitchen decorating cookies, could see Marianne through the opened bedroom door and observed her daughter’s far-off expression. It was obvious to her why Marianne felt restless and absentminded these past few days, but she would let Marianne, once so passionate and confident in matters of the heart, figure it out for herself. With a soft chuckle, Diane refocused on the task at hand and was all ears for Margaret’s spur of the moment culinary idea.

Margaret wanted to decorate the cookies to represent their family, including Mrs. Jennings, Brandon and Mr. Middleton. Diane agreed, but let Margaret be the creative genius, giving her free reign over the various colored frostings, sprinkles, and candies to decorate with. Marianne and Ellie soon joined in this festive activity and before long all the Dashwood ladies were immersed in laughter at seeing Margaret’s artistic rendition of Brandon. The cookie was surrounded by multiple box-shaped pieces decorated like presents for Marianne.

A knock at the door broke through their revelry, and Diane dried her hands on her apron to answer it. It was Mr. Middleton. In one hand he held the bag of powdered sugar Diane had asked to borrow, and tucked under the other arm was a newspaper.

“You’re a life-saver,” Diane thanked him, taking the sweetener and placing it on the counter. Margaret had been so intent with her goal of creating look-a-like cookies she’d finished off their powdered sugar supply—and there were still a half dozen cookies left to decorate. “Come in,” Diane invited Mr. Middleton. “I’ll replace your powdered sugar as soon I can make it over to the store.”

“That’s not necessary,” Mr. Middleton waved Diane off as he stepped inside the apartment and watched her start a new batch of frosting. “My doctor says I eat too much sugar as it is.” He smiled as he hungrily eyed the inviting tray of cookies. “However,” Mr. Middleton continued with a twinkle in his eyes, “When those cookies are done, I might be convinced to try one—you know, just to make sure they are edible. I’ll be your guinea pig.” He winked, and the girls laughed. “Oh, I almost forgot. . .” he remembered, pulling the newspaper out from under his arm and opening it. “. . .they showed Lucy’s marriage announcement in the paper today. Sweet little thing. I’m glad everything ended up working out for her.”

Although Mr. Middleton obviously considered himself the bearer of good news, he was mistaken indeed. All merriment came to an abrupt halt upon the elderly man’s announcement. Ellie’s family turned with concerned faces toward her, noting her ashen appearance.

“When did she get married?” Diane finally asked.

“Here, have a look,” Mr. Middleton offered her the paper, but she wouldn’t take it. Seeing that no one seemed interested in viewing the announcement for themselves, Mr. Middleton reached in his shirt pocket for his spectacles and began reading it out loud. “Let’s see . . . it says here that on September fourth, Lucy Steele, daughter of . . . oh, let’s skip that and get to the good stuff,” he smirked at them playfully, but then quickly returned to the paper following their blank response. “They were married in a private ceremony off the coast of Maine surrounded by family and friends. It is rumored that Federica Ferrars, the syndicated psychiatrist,
refused to attend her own son’s wedding as she disapproved of the match.” Mr. Middleton glanced up and, despite the solemn response he’d received from them thus far, seemed surprised by their lack of enthusiasm.

Diane, more focused on her eldest than appeasing her cousin, searched Ellie’s face for any clue as to her daughter’s immediate need. Apart from her colorless face, Ellie gave little away as to her true state of mind. Sensing her mother’s probing look, Ellie silently untied her apron and left the room, leaving an anxious Diane behind. Fortunately, Margaret eased the tension with her natural charisma.

“Mr. M, would you like a cookie now?” she asked, coming to the rescue.

“Oh, sure!” Mr. Middleton answered, stepping forward to take his cookie. Although he wanted to ask what all the fuss was about, he decided to keep his mouth busy with devouring the cookie—for which Diane was very grateful.

Not a word was said about Mr. Middleton’s announcement the rest of the day. The Dashwood clan continued with their daily tasks as if nothing happened, yet all the while remained watchful of Ellie. It was difficult at times for Diane and Marianne to keep their silence when witnessing the occasional unguarded weariness on Ellie’s face, but they followed her lead. When and if Ellie became ready to let them in, she knew where to find them.

Thankfully, Brandon was expected back the next day and his awaited return served as a welcome distraction. Diane wanted the house in tip-top shape for his homecoming and by Sunday mid-morning, the team was exhausted from cleaning chores. After a reposeful lunch however, Diane had one more task she wanted to complete and asked her eldest to join her in pruning the garden. Ellie complied without complaint, secretly grateful for any task which might prolong dealing with her present misery. As both mother and daughter got to work, Margaret relaxed on the grass with Rover while Marianne rocked peacefully on the hammock.

The sound of an approaching vehicle caught their attention. As it was still early in the afternoon, Marianne thought perhaps Brandon was back sooner than expected. Although it didn’t look like his car, maybe it was wishful thinking which made her exclaim, “It’s Brandon!”

“No, Marianne, it’s not Brandon,” Ellie observed, getting a better look at the advancing car.

Sitting up and pushing Rover playfully away, Margaret finally joined her family in studying the vehicle and its driver more closely. They watched as the car pulled up and parked in a space next to Mrs. Jennings’s house about a hundred yards away. Although they already knew it wasn’t Brandon, they were still curious to find out who it could be. The apartments didn’t receive many visitors.

“Maybe it’s someone for Mr. Middleton,” Diane suggested logically.

“Edward! It’s Edward!” Margaret shouted, running toward the vehicle with Rover following closely behind.

Edward? The only reason Ellie could surmise that Edward would be coming to the complex was to talk with Mrs. Jennings and Mr. Middleton about his and Lucy’s rental situation—very unpleasant business if you asked her.

Sure enough, Margaret’s eagle eyes proved accurate as they all watched Edward emerge from his car to be greeted by the zealous youngster.

“Edward!” Margaret enclosed the bottom half of his body in a rapturous bear hug.

“Hey, Margaret!” Edward smiled, and Margaret grabbed his hand. Before he could react, she began dragging him toward their apartment with eagerness.

When the two came within hearing range, Diane calmly greeted him. “Hello, Edward,” she smiled, albeit somewhat half-heartedly.

Ellie plucked up her courage and snuck a peek at him, but only to find that Edward was already looking at her. Quickly averting her eyes, Ellie’s cheeks began to burn with confusion.
Oh, why did Margaret have to drag him over here
?! she thought.
He’s married now. He didn’t come here to visit us
.

“Would you like a glass of homemade lemonade, Edward?” Diane asked in an effort to ease the awkward moment.

“That would be nice,” he accepted, following her inside the apartment with Margaret still attached to his hip.

As the others entered the apartment, Ellie stayed behind, forcing herself to take deep breaths. She attempted to mentally prepare herself for Edward’s surprise visit—but how? No matter what topic they discussed, Ellie was sure her heart would maintain its quickened rhythm until he was gone. Finding it useless to linger outside any longer, Ellie finally stepped inside and took the seat next to Marianne. Meanwhile, Diane hurriedly poured Edward his lemonade and handed it to him.

“Thank you,” Edward smiled upon receiving the ice cold refreshment. “Oh, I see you received the picture I sent,” he said, noting the eight-by-ten frame hanging on the wall.

“Yes, thank you, Edward. That was very nice of you to mail that,” Diane answered with a tight smile. Then unable to beat around the bush any longer, she asked, “Have you talked with Mr. Middleton about settling into one of the apartments here with Mrs. Ferrars?”

Edward glanced back at Diane strangely. “In the apartments here? No offense, but they’re not quite her style.” The Dashwood clan appeared puzzled by this statement, so Edward decided to explain. “No, my mom will never leave New York. She loves it there,” he finished. Still seeing the confusion on their faces, he disguised his bewilderment by taking another sip of his lemonade.

“I meant your
wife
, Mrs.
Edward
Ferrars,” Diane clarified, almost tripping over her own words. How could he confuse his new wife with his mother?

Turning sheet white, Edward nearly spat his drink. With eyes darting questioningly about the room, he blushed, looking quite perplexed. After some hesitation, he began, “Ahh, I think there’s been a misunderstanding . . . I’m not . . . well, you see. . .” Edward stammered and started again, “Are you referring to my brother’s wife? Mrs.
Robert
Ferrars?”

“Robert’s wife!” both Marianne and Diane exclaimed, turning to Ellie with glee.

Ellie, both embarrassed by her family’s declaration and also overwhelmed by the revelation itself, began to feel faint.
He’s not married
?!?
Is this a dream
?! were all she could think.