A Modern Day Sense and Sensibility: An Adaptation of Jane Austen's Classic (4 page)

Ellie glanced with worry at her mother and knew it was time to intervene. “So, John,” she said, “do you plan on keeping your place in New York?”

“Francil and I have decided that since . . . since our circumstances have changed, we will still keep the house but spend the majority of our time in Seattle.” John looked to his wife, and she took over for him.

“As you know, John is now in charge of Dashwood International, so it makes much more sense to be closer to the main office.” Francil sat down confidently, playing with the designer scarf around her neck. “Besides, I want Harry to go to school in Seattle. I’ve already applied to several academies. Do you know how soon you’ll be moving to the west wing of the house?”

John tried to soften her question, saying, “I’m sorry there’s not more room—”

“But the house has nine bedrooms and a guest cottage!” Margaret exclaimed, “Why do we have to give up our rooms?” John couldn’t help but blush, yet Francil felt no shame.

Margaret was indeed correct about how spacious their home was. Aside from the nine bedroom suites, each with its own walk-in closet and private bathroom, the Dashwood estate boasted a 50-acre landscaped lawn which included a master garden, tennis court, full-size pool with an attached pool house and sauna, as well as the guest cottage which in itself was quite grand with its three bedrooms and wraparound veranda. The guest cottage had actually been John and Diane’s first home before they decided to rebuild. So many memories associated with the quaint home, they left it standing and refurbished it to provide long-term visitors with more private lodging.

“It’s all right, John. This is
your
home now.” Diane looked to her girls. The bond they shared was growing even stronger through these strained circumstances.

Francil moved on as if nothing was the matter. “Our belongings will be coming in a few days. Oh, and my brother is in Seattle so I’ve invited him to stay with us.”

John observed the peeved looks shared among Diane and her two eldest. For their sake, he hoped they would find another place soon. Francil wasn’t an easy woman to live with.

Finally January had arrived and Diane, anxious to safeguard her belongings, doubled her efforts to remove their possessions from the house. She feared the longer their personal belongings remained within Francil’s grasp, the easier it would be for her daughter-in-law to claim them as her own. Hiring a moving van, Diane planned to move the boxes from the garage and everything they were able to stow away that day into a nearby storage unit she had rented. To speed this effort, she assigned Ellie and Marianne to moving van detail and the sisters had been dutifully acting as their mother’s legs—fetching items, carrying boxes, and packing designated keepsakes. Around mid-day, they decided to take a quick break so Marianne could get a glass of water. Ten minutes later, Ellie glanced at her watch while sitting at the top of the stairs and grumbled that Marianne had been gone long enough to get a dozen glasses of water. She waited five minutes more before giving up and deciding to lug the latest sealed box to the van. Ellie’s hope was that by the time she made it safely down the stairs, Marianne would be there to meet her at the front door.

Carefully guiding herself down to the main entry with the heavier-than-expected box, Ellie’s expectation dropped with no Marianne in sight. How was she going to juggle the load and turn the doorknob? Hoping there was a chance that her sister might be somewhere downstairs, Ellie tried calling for her. “Marianne!” she yelled, “Can you get the door!?!”

She waited a moment without any response before sighing and applying her efforts to opening the door on her own. Not one to needlessly waste time, Ellie didn’t like the thought of standing around for who knows how long until Marianne would finally appear. Ellie did, however, cherish the thought of reporting back to her mother about her sister’s extremely long water break. While mentally practicing the recount she’d deliver to her mom, Ellie started to shift the majority of the box’s weight to her left arm in order to free up her right. Feeling her left bicep strain under the pressure, she cautiously began to move her right hand toward the doorknob. Ellie grasped the cold brass in her fingers and slowly tried turning her wrist clockwise to release the latch. Just as success was within her reach, the box began to tip left and her heart braced as she quickly steadied the awkward piece of cardboard. Calming herself, Ellie tried again, this time, counterbalancing the weight of the box by leaning toward the right while turning the knob. Her efforts were indeed successful, but she had not taken into account how much force she would have to use initially to push open the door, and before she knew it, was stumbling outside with the ground as her target. Yet, seemingly out of nowhere, Ellie felt a pair of strong arms reach out and catch her along with the wayward box. Ordinarily, being scooped up by a stranger would have made her scream and call for help, but at that moment all she could think about was how grateful she was for a soft place to land rather than the cold cement.

“Whoa there!” Ellie heard a man’s voice call out.

“Oh!” she backed away once on her feet again. Upon catching a glimpse of the stranger, Ellie blushed. “I’m so sorry,” she apologized. The man standing before her was quite handsome, and Ellie found herself momentarily at a loss for words. Taking another step back to increase the space between them to more than just a few inches, Ellie’s hand involuntarily went up to fix her disheveled hair. “Thank you,” she mumbled once feeling presentable again, feeling
foolish as she extended both arms to show him she was ready for him to return the box. But instead of placing the heavy burden back into her possession, the young man just smiled at Ellie, making her nervous.

Finally he spoke up. “I’m Edward, Edward Ferrars,” he said.

Letting her nerves get the best of her, Ellie answered faster than her tongue could move. “El-Elinor Da-Dashwood,” she said before swiftly revising her answer with, “But everyone calls me Ellie.” She felt her face darken a shade or two before attempting to lessen the awkwardness of her introduction by diverting his attention to her home. But before she could do so, she heard Francil call out from upstairs.

“Edward?” Francil’s surprised voice rang out, and both Edward and Ellie looked up to where she stood on the balcony. “Edward!” she continued with glee, “I thought I heard your voice!” Francil only then observed Edward holding a box. Alarmed by the thought of her mother-in-law taking advantage of her brother and putting him to work around the estate, she invited him up without delay. Assuring Francil he would be right there, Edward smiled kindly at Ellie.

“Where can I put this for you?” he asked.

“Oh, you don’t have to do that,” Ellie quickly replied, reaching for the box again.

“I insist,” Edward’s dimple creased with his growing enjoyment as he took a playful step back. Momentarily speechless, Ellie pointed to the van parked in the long driveway. “The truck?” he asked for confirmation and Ellie nodded. She couldn’t help but admire his physique as he placed the box near the truck bed’s opening as if it contained merely feathers.

As he came back toward her and retrieved his duffel bag, Ellie smiled awkwardly. “Um. . .” she cleared her throat, “Thank you.”

“It was no problem at all,” Edward smiled in return. “See you around, Ellie.”

With that, Edward strolled into the house to meet up with his sister. Ellie closed the front door behind him and trudged over to the moving van where she practically crash-landed. Taking a seat next to the troublesome box, she tried breathing slowly in and out to calm her unusually fast-beating heart. She told herself the stranger wouldn’t be staying long, and once he departed, things would return to normal. Slowly easing her nervousness with thoughts such as that, Ellie was suddenly struck with the realization that this young man wasn’t just an ordinary stranger—he was Francil’s brother!—meaning he wouldn’t be going anywhere anytime soon! At a loss as to why it hadn’t occurred to her earlier, Ellie kicked herself for being such a klutz around him. Now she couldn’t just slink away in her embarrassment like usual, but rather would have to face him daily during the duration of his stay! Perhaps the reason she hadn’t made the connection initially was because Edward seemed so unlike anything she had ever dreamed would encompass a brother of the “Ice Queen.” Warning herself not to be too hasty in her judgment of Edward’s character since first impressions can be deceiving, Ellie felt a mixture of emotions as she got up from the van, but most of all curiosity.

“John’s half-siblings are not friendly at all,” Francil complained as she gave Edward a guided tour of the Dashwood home later that afternoon. Having just introduced her brother to the Dashwood Family, their annoying presence was fresh on her mind.

Shrugging, Edward wasn’t quite sure how his sister wanted him to respond as she studied a Picasso painting hanging on the wall. He and Francil had never been close, she being eight years older. Throughout their childhood, Francil had been away most of the time at boarding school or vacationing with friends during the holidays, or else too busy with boys to notice him. By the time Edward was in high school, Francil was already married and living on the East Coast with John. Although Edward loved Francil because she was his sister and a part of his family, it didn’t mean that he appreciated the way she had turned out. For the past half-hour, he had silently listened to Francil criticize the house, its lawn, her mother-in-law, and now John’s half-sisters. He was ready for a change of subject.

Clueless to the conversation at hand, Ellie came up the back stairs with a load of laundry meant for Margaret’s room. Normally this wasn’t a task she found herself completing, but under the strict dictatorship of Francil, all of their household staff had been let go to make way for her new work force who had yet to be assembled. It had been especially hard on Diane
who counted their cook, Linda, a dear friend. If they could have managed Linda’s salary within their new budget, they would have asked her to move with them. But unfortunately they didn’t have that type of money anymore, and furthermore, had no say in the concerns of the current household.

Turning the corner toward the west wing where Margaret’s new suite was situated at the end of the hallway, Ellie caught herself before stepping into view of Francil and Edward and, without meaning to, began to overhear their conversation.

“Marianne barely says a word to me, and Margaret is glued to the TV!” Francil scoffed. “That’s certainly not healthy! You’d think John’s stepmother would know better.” Francil shook her head and pointed to the room on the right, quickly adding before they passed it, “This used to be John’s old room growing up.” Edward nodded, and Francil continued her previous point, “I mean, if Diane doesn’t watch out, she’ll have a couch potato on her hands.”

Ellie fought to keep her mouth shut, denying the urge to defend her youngest sister. Margaret spent most of her time outdoors, everyone knew that! Knowing there would be another opportunity later to set Francil straight anonymously, Ellie maintained her silence and, with that, her hiding place.

“Francil, what do you expect?” Edward surprised Ellie by objecting with his sister, “They’ve just lost their dad.”

Francil rolled her eyes and moved past her brother toward the library. She honestly couldn’t understand Edward. Francil found him odd, and he constantly upset her by seemingly always siding against her. Not only that, she agreed with their mother that he was out of control—Edward had no career plan, and it seemed like he could care less about the pay scales for the professions his family suggested. Mrs. Ferrars was at her wits end at what to do with him—he wouldn’t even accept the Porsche she had gotten him for his last birthday. “Well,” Francil sighed as she brushed off his apparent lack of sympathy, “I can’t wait till they’re gone; then we can finally have the house to ourselves.”