PREFACE

Dear Jane,

Do you remember your novel about the Dashwood family, Mrs Dashwood and her three daughters, Elinor, Marianne and Margaret?

Your novel came to an end with the marriages of Elinor and Marianne: Elinor to Edward Ferrars, a young man about to commence a vocation as a minister of the church, but without much enthusiasm for it; Marianne to Colonel Brandon, a retired army officer twice her age. Margaret, the youngest of the three, gets little attention until the last page, where it is hinted that she has reached an age 'highly suitable for dancing.'

And then? Do the lives of these young women have no significance apart from dancing, flirting and marrying? Did they bear any children? Did they and their husbands enjoy lives without care ? In nineteenth century England ? I can hardly believe it. The characters that you presented to the world in Sense and Sensibility must have lived their allotted span of years, with all the accompanying happiness, heartache and sadness that life always brings.

Here is the rest of the story.

Love John

Part I

1820 - 1837

1 Edward

My dear Mrs Dashwood,

Well, here I am in Oxford. It's a very different city from London or Plymouth, a little like Exeter, but the colleges and the university dominate the city and almost everyone I've met is in some way connected with that institution.

In the first week I met my tutor, Dr Horatio Netherby, a pleasant enough academic gentleman who set out what I must do before I can present myself for ordination. He was somewhat scathing about my previous education, especially the time spent at Plymouth with Mr Pratt. It was most certainly a mistake to tell him that my brother had gone to Westminster School, Dr Netherby thought that that would have been a much better preparation for a clerk in Holy Orders that the time I spent at Plymouth. 'You must have had a lot of divertissements down there in Plymouth, Mr Ferrars,' he said, 'your Latin is at the level of an eleven-year-old, and as for your Greek syntax....' Reflecting about my dear brother's propensities since then, I wondered if in fact he had had more access to divertissements than I had had, indeed I sometimes think we two and my sister Fanny are three of the most unalike people you can imagine: myself – reticent and trusting, my brother – prodigal and cynical, and my sister, avaricious and scheming. I considered it prudent not to tell Dr Netherby of the time I had spent in Plymouth with Lucy Steele and the outcome of this youthful attachment, that would have confirmed all his worst opinions of me, maybe he would have refused me for presentation if he had known. I am still conscious of the wrongness of forming a definite attachment at such an early age, and glad that I was able to escape the clutches of the young woman who dropped me after she found out how my own mother had rejected me in favour of my brother.

Judgements of that nature may not be proper comment from one who hopes to become a clergyman in the near future, but I have to say that I send brother Robert all good wishes with such a young woman who seems only interested in the financial prospects of her chosen husband. Reasonable attention to the practical aspects of marriage may be justified, but they should, in my opinion, never overshadow affairs of the heart. Time will tell if such a marriage can bring any kind of happiness to the couple concerned.

My time here is spent on declinations and conjugations, indicatives and subjunctives, but also on Bible study and the doctrines of our church. There is really a lot to learn, it seems that the church is trying to respond to the many criticisms that were levelled at it at the turn of the century, mainly from those who call themselves Non-Conformists – the Methodists, Baptists and Congregationalists. Dr Netherby told me of a curate who, visiting his parishioners, was confronted by one Non-Conformist who pushed the New Testament in its Greek original in front of his nose. 'Well, Mr Curate,' he addressed the young man, 'Can you read this? Can you? Can you? Can you tell me what it says? No?' I am very anxious not to fall into traps of this kind, I would be very embarrassed to be quizzed in that way. In Oxford, too, there is great rivalry among the different sects and much discussion on the question of Roman Catholic emancipation. Should they be allowed to hold public office, sit in Parliament, serve on juries, and the like? I am always hesitant to express my opinions, since I have no fixed views on many of these matters and listen with interest to the debates among the other students, but I cannot find the courage and determination to take an active part. Public speaking was never really my forte.

I have been spending a lot of time with a new friend I have made, who is also awaiting ordination. His name is Edmund Bertram and he is the second son of a baronet, so he lacks nothing in the way of financial help from his father, though he himself is extremely modest and lives the same kind of life that I lead here in Oxford. He is somewhat shy, rather like me, but he grew up on his father's large estate and of course he went to Eton, so has no real problems with his studies and has been helping me to read Eusebius of Caesarea, Saint Augustine of Hippo and the other Fathers of the church. He is also fortunate in that he has been promised a living on the estate of his father, the living is in his father's gift so what do you expect? He can look forward to a future without practical worries, safe in the shade of his father's mansion. For myself I can only say that I am most grateful to Colonel Brandon for the promise of the living at Delaford, it will at least be an opportunity to earn my living and support my future wife. Edmund told me that he had also had a change of heart as regards a young lady with whom he was acquainted, but the circumstances were rather different from my own. In his case, he felt attached to the young lady but she (like Lucy) revealed herself to be primarily interested in his fortune, and when it became apparent that Edmund would not inherit the baronetcy, his brother having recovered from a long illness, the lady lost interest. Shortly after Edmund formed an attachment with a cousin, a young woman without fortune who had grown up in the home of his parents and whom he had known since an early age. They are planning to marry as soon as he is ordained. A curious chance, indeed.

I heard from Robert that mother is still angry with me for forming this secret attachment with Lucy so many years ago and for wanting to uphold my promise to her. Robert, in his usual nonchalant way, wrote that being cut off from mother's fortune served me right for flaunting her wishes. I have to admit that it is difficult to make ends meet here in Oxford, undergraduates are expected to be generous with university staff and servants so that I am grateful for the help you have given me from the funds you have invested with the Exeter Bank. Perhaps my own mother may relent towards me now that I have become engaged to Elinor, my mother could not possibly find any fault with her, but alas, my dear mother tends to judge people by the size of their fortune and not by their character. I am also helping out at a local school in order to earn some pin money, an increasing number of children here have little or no education at all, being completely illiterate, but this cannot bring me much in the way of income. I told my brother Robert about my activities in this direction but he wrote back: 'Pin money, old boy, just pinheads!'

One thing that really worries me – apart from the difficulties with my studies – is the attitude of the Colonel himself. He offered me the living because he approved my stance in maintaining my promise to marry Lucy, but as that fell by the wayside (excuse the Biblical metaphor) he is no longer bound by his promise. I have heard nothing from the Colonel on this matter and am loathe to approach him myself. However, bearing in mind that I hope to become his brother-in-law in the not too distant future, this point will perhaps tell in my favour.

So far I have hardly referred to my dear Elinor, my future wife. Although our engagement came so suddenly after the termination of my obligations towards Lucy Steele, I can assure you that my intentions are wholly honourable to your daughter and I long for the time when we can be together in Delaford and not far from you at Barton Cottage. I saw Elinor so often when you were all living at Norland, my heart was captured by her even at that time but I tried to resist because of my obligations towards Lucy. Dear mother-in-law to be, give Elinor, Marianne and Margaret my kindest wishes and I will hope to see you all at the end of the term.

Your dutiful future son-in-law

Edward.

2 Edward

'Let's stop parsing this awful bore Eusebius and talk about something else, Edmund.'

'Right you are, Edward, I can feel that your heart is not in it today. Do you want to tell me more about you and Elinor? You've told me enough already, is there anything more to say? You don't have to justify constantly what you may have done in the past, you know. Forgive us our trespasses, have you forgotten it?'

'Of course not, I still feel a kind of responsibility towards Lucy.'

'I cannot see that you have any responsibility there at all, Edward, but let me ask you a very simple question as regards Lucy. Did you or did you not? You know perfectly well what I mean.'

'Oh, good heavens no, there was no question of that. We had in fact very little time together. We used to pass notes to each other in class, and I fondly imagined, in my childish way, that that was the foundation of love itself. And there was constant discipline at the tutor's – Mr Pratt's – establishment. Whatever made you think of that, me a respectable gentleman's son who is hoping to enter Holy Orders?'

'Edward, I won't press the point since it is not really a matter that two gentlemen should talk about and in any case leads to all kinds of half-truths and nil-truths. Yes, I know well enough that in that domain the spirit is often willing but the flesh is all too weak. And now Lucy is married to your brother Robert. How could this all have happened so quickly? You showed me the letter she wrote to you, and I would suggest that in these circumstances you have nothing about which to reproach yourself and that you were free to form an attachment and an engagement with Elinor. But what is the attitude towards you of your relatives or those you meet in society in respect of this somewhat unusual love story?'

'Difficult to say, you know that people – especially in society – rarely express their true feelings. Sir John Middleton, who owns the estate on which my future mother-in-law's little house stands and who is her relative and her landlord, made some rather discourteous remark when we visited him at Christmas, something about changing horses in midstream. He found that highly amusing, it certainly caused some laughter among the assembled company. But I thought that rather impertinent, especially coming from a man who claims to be a gentleman. I've already told you about brother Robert and my mother and how she cut me off from what morally was mine to inherit. As for my future mother-in-law and her daughters, they are ready to accept me into their family without a stain on my character. And what about you – you didn't exactly wait around when your first love turned you down, did you?'

'Well no, my engagement was nearly a year from my last meeting with Mary Crawford, when she treated me with scorn because of my intention to take Holy Orders. There was never any question of a secret engagement with Fanny. It was just that we seemed to grow together in harmony month by month, especially after my heart was free – and of course I am sure that my parents looked with favour on the match. I believe that my mother was shrewd enough to see the direction of things and while she did not actively encourage me and Fanny, she certainly helped matters along.'

Edward felt a kind of remorse, as if he had failed an important examination because he had not really understood the question to be answered. Finding himself free from one promise to marry, and then within a matter of weeks proposing marriage to another young lady, was that the right conduct for a gentleman or a future clergyman? Would he really be happy with Elinor? Had they had time to 'grow together in harmony' the way Edmund put it? To be a clergyman would solve his most pressing problem – what to do with his life – but was he really suited for it? How would he feel, standing up in the pulpit and trying to explain the basic tenets of the Christian faith to a congregation of farm workers and labourers, who for the most part would only come to his church because that was what their ancestors had done for the last five – six – seven hundred years or more? And what of Elinor? What were the duties of a curate's wife and would she be able to carry them out? He was sure that she was a woman with understanding of the world, a devout Christian, she would be a loving wife and maybe mother, but was that enough? They had no real common interests. She wrote to him about tables and chairs and lamps for the future parsonage house – was she interested in Eusebius and could she discuss the texts with him? Was that necessary, in a marriage, anyway? He gave a sigh.

'Oh Edward, you are a strange character, you know. Let's put on our academic gowns and go outside the college for a couple of glasses of that Abbot Ale. That may set your mind at rest. Eusebius can wait until tomorrow.'

Later, while Edmund went up to the bar for another round, Edward sat wondering again what the future would hold for him. Marianne was going to marry the Colonel and live at Delaford Park, he was going to marry Elinor and live in the cramped parsonage house on the Colonel's estate. The two girls would still be sisters, but there would be a vast social gap between the Colonel and his curate. A social gap that could be measured easily, and the measure was pounds, shillings and pence.

3 Colonel Brandon

'Good to see you, Edward!'

Colonel Brandon grasped the hand of his future brother-in-law and led him into the capacious but somewhat chilly sitting room of his ancestral home, Delaford Park. Easter was early that year, outside among the shrubs surrounding the drive a few birds chirped, and a fire was still burning in the grate, but its warmth was nominal and failed to dispel the atmosphere of gloom exuded by a manor house with pretensions to be a mansion. It was Edward's first visit to Delaford Park, he looked around with some disbelief.

Can this be the place where Marianne will be living in a few months' time? The whole room seems to have been lifted from the middle of the eighteenth century and deposited here in this damp corner of Devon. Oh yes, there may be fine timber in the woods around, and at Oxford someone told me of the price fine oaks were fetching nowadays, after all the shipbuilding undertaken at the turn of the century with the Napoleonic wars, but only squirrels can live in fine oaks – humans need something more for their comfort. And now the Colonel is going to marry Marianne, but how did he live previously? Does he have a housekeeper, butler, manservant – mistress? Was there a Mrs or a Madame Brandon at some stage? A career in the army, service in India, Distinguished Service Medal won in Spain, now at age thirty-eight a reserve officer on half-pay, plus presumably rents from the farms on the surrounding land, maybe something in the funds, but not enough to spend on the complete renovation of the property – look at the damp in those walls. And the Colonel – is it time to start calling him Peter, good heavens, we shall be brothers-in-law when the marriages take place in August. Or shall I wait until the Colonel – my elder by fourteen years – makes me the offer ? Oh, how lacking I am in the social graces, Mr Pratt never troubled to teach us those kind of things.

Edward senses that the Colonel is looking at him, blushes and stammers: 'G - Good to see you, sir' and then realises that 'sir' is far too subservient, although as an officer the Colonel would be used to such forms of address. The Colonel beckons him to a chair, seems not to notice Edward's gaucheness.

'Let me first say' Edward begins 'once again, how grateful I am for your generosity in nominating me for the living here at Delaford. I think you are acquainted with my circumstances following my mother's action in cutting me off from all access to her fortune. Until that point, I was, thanks to her, able to live a fairly independent life, able to satisfy all my immediate needs, provided that I was not over-prodigal. My mother wished me to make a name for myself in politics, but as you know, unlike my brother I did not go to Westminster School and my education in Plymouth was somewhat lacking. I was, however, foolish enough to attach myself to a young lady during my sojourn in Plymouth and felt obliged to adhere to my promises in that direction, notwithstanding that in the meantime I had formed a partial attachment for Miss Dashwood – your future sister-in-law. My mother's hopes for me were unfounded – I am no William Pitt or Charles James Fox, to harangue the House of Commons with my rhetoric. Thus it was that, thanks to your generous offer, I am now able to complete my studies at Oxford, take Holy Orders in our well-loved church of England, and take up the curacy here in Delaford – and marry Miss Dashwood – as soon as possible.'

'Edward, it is precisely this matter which I wish to discuss with you today. The offer I made to you was certainly not conditional on your marrying your childhood sweetheart. At the time I thought that your integrity in insisting to go through with this marriage, even though your mother was prepared to disinherit you and even cut off your annual allowance – a sum, being as modest in your outgoings as you appear to be, hardly worth her concern – at that time I felt that such integrity in a young man of my acquaintance was to be lauded and the world shown that at least in this day and age there are still men who uphold the finest traditions of honesty and probity. However, it is my duty to tell you today that circumstances have arisen which may make it impossible for me to maintain my offer to you.'

'But, Elinor said, did she not......'

'Please let me continue. Some four weeks ago I received a letter from an old friend of mine, Major-General John Smithers, now retired, lately, like yours truly, of the British Army in India. We served together in Agra Fort for a number of years, and kept in touch after our return to this country. Smithers has a son as a result of a youthful indiscretion in his early years and this young man, twenty-four like yourself, has, despite the constrained circumstances of his upbringing, turned out well. He has studied for the same calling as yourself, but at the University of Cambridge. This young man has now taken his Holy Orders and is looking for a curacy in Devon or Cornwall. But this is not the end of the matter. Shortly after Smithers broached this subject, I received a communication from Sir Robert Newman, Member of Parliament for the Exeter constituency, and another from the head steward of the Duke of Omnium, both supporting this young man's candidature for the post at Delaford. It would, at the present time, be very unwise for me to disregard such influence in favour of this other young man, who has such excellent credentials and I believe will be a credit to the curacy he will hold here.'

'But does that mean......?'

'Edward, we are not going to dispute about a matter of patronage in which any reasonable man could see that I have no choice in the matter. You will soon – I sincerely hope – become my brother-in-law, and no doubt will be able to find an alternative living which will suit you – perhaps better than Delaford. I trust that you will find understanding and comprehension for the difficult position in which I find myself. But be assured that I have not forgotten you – indeed, how could I? I am not without influence in certain quarters and on my next visit to London I will speak on your behalf with my contacts in order to ensure that you are not the loser in these circumstances through this slight change of plan. Now, before you go, let us take a walk around the fields here, let me show you the areas I have been able to enclose and so render fertile for growing crops or using as meadows for dairy cattle.'

'In these circumstances – to use your expression, Colonel – I think it wiser to return to Barton Cottage without further delay. I must not go before passing on the good wishes of Mrs Dashwood and her daughters, they speak of you as a man without fault or hypocrisy. I will not comment further but will wish you good-day.'

Edward stormed out of the Park and arrived at Barton Cottage in a foul temper. How could the Colonel – forget his first name now, anyway – behave in this way, just because his fine friends wanted a favour from him? And this was the man who was going to marry Marianne, a girl with the highest regard for principles. What would she say? What would Elinor say, now that our chances of marriage as soon as I come down from Oxford have to be postponed – until when?

After lunch with Mrs Dashwood and Margaret – the other girls were shopping in Exeter – he decided to return to Oxford as soon as possible, the next Post coach leaving Exeter market the following day.

On arrival at Oxford Edward sought out his friend Edmund and told him the news. 'So I don't receive this curacy and that means I cannot marry Elinor and for those reasons I'm inclined to tell the Colonel and Eusebius to go to hell and I'll find something else to do with my life.'

'Steady on, old boy. And will you ask Elinor to go to hell too? First, let's determine the facts. Have you actually told Colonel Brandon to go to hell, or were you just rude to him?'

It was pretty rude to walk out without showing interest in his enclosures.'

'Maybe there will be some future opportunity to admire them when next you go there – for go there again you surely will, Edward. When that happens, try to be pleasant, hint that you would like to call him by his first name – Marianne will be doing that anyway, he can't object – and if and when the new curate turns up, try to be pleasant to him too. That will put things half right, but it doesn't solve your real problem. Now, do you know anybody at the social level of the gentlemen the Colonel referred to, who can speak for you?'

'Well, there's only Sir John Middleton, a distant relative of Elinor's, but I don't believe that he ever attends Parliament, he's a rather loud, jolly man who is more interested in parties and what he calls 'get-togethers.'

'But have you forgotten that my father is not only a baronet, he is also a man of influence and I am sure he would be able to help you. I'll be seeing him next week and if he is willing he will surely want to meet you and set matters in motion.'

'Edmund, that really is so very kind of you. You are so much more of a diplomat than I shall ever be. How come that you have these talents?'

'That's what you learn at Eton College and not at Mr Pratt's, old boy.'

Six weeks later Edward received the following letter:

The Bishop's Palace

Exeter 21 May 18--

Dear Mr Ferrars,

Sir Thomas Bertram, of Mansfield Park in the county of Northampton, had the occasion to speak to me on my recent visit to London regarding your desire to serve the church in a curacy somewhere within this diocese. I understand that you hope to complete your studies at Oxford before the summer and will be ready in the month of August to start your ministry in this area.

Sir Thomas states that his son Edmund, who knows you well and is also a clergyman in spe, speaks most highly of you and your character. In view of this I am prepared to offer you the curacy of the parish of St Cuthbert in this city. The stipend will be in the region of three hundred pounds a year and there is a small parsonage house available. There may be additional duties in the cathedral at Christmas and Easter, but these will bring you into contact with other clergy and you may be asked to preach in the cathedral once a year, provided your oratory measures up to the standards and traditions of this place of worship.

I look forward to an early reply and an opportunity to meet you when you are next in Exeter.

Yours faithfully

William Carey, Bishop Exoniensis.

Edward showed Edmund the letter. 

'Of course you'll take it, won't you, Edward ? It'll be a hundred times better than Delaford and a lot more challenging: there are very many poor and destitute people in Exeter and the church is not doing enough to help them. And one word of warning: be careful on the subject of slavery. Yes, we know that the slave trade was abolished in 1807 but there are still plenty of slaves on my father's plantations in Antigua. You will certainly be meeting my father, now your benefactor, at some time in the future, but don't upset him on the subject of slavery – for the moment, it provides him with a very satisfactory income. Even people like bishops may have an ambivalent stance when it comes to slavery. Nevertheless, now let's get back to Eusebius.'

4 Marianne

My dear Mama,

Now I have been sixteen weeks here at Delaford Park and it is beginning to seem more like home. It's a smaller house than the one where we lived at Norland, and I can see that in many ways it has been neglected in the past – the dampness, the gutters that need repair, the drains that are blocked and the many other long uncared-for things that Peter talks about but I don't really understand. All this comes from the years he spent in India and Spain, when the house remained uninhabited for a considerable time. And after he came back, he didn't really want to live in a manor house in the country by himself, he stayed in London for most of the time. But now he sits with an architect and two workman once a week and they discuss all the future tasks, 'to put the house' as Peter says, 'back into some of its original splendour and make it worthy of the young woman who is now mistress of Delaford Park.' As soon as the workmen have left, we'll invite you over for a few days so you can see it for yourself.

Peter says that when the spring comes we can acquire a pony and trap and I can learn to drive it, then I can drive the nine miles to see you at Barton Cottage from time to time and maybe stay a night or two so we can have a picnic in the garden and talk over the old and the new times together. I told Peter I would rather have a quiet, docile mare and ride on that, at least then I would have the feeling of riding, with a real steed to carry me like a medieval knight or some romantic hero, but he said no, no, that would not do for a lady and I should be content with the pony and trap.

We have a small retinue of servants here, most of them live in Delaford village and come daily to work, it is only ten minutes walk away. In addition to the cook, Mrs Whitestone, there are two maids, Jane and Elizabeth and, a gardener/handyman – Gordon – who has additional help in the summer and autumn. The housekeeper – Mrs Maidment – organizes everything like visiting the butcher, the baker and the greengrocer, buying in potatoes, flour and fruit, and supervising the maids. But Mrs Maidment is expecting a happy event, and then, so she says, 'you're on your own, Mrs Brandon, you'll have to manage by yourself for a few months.' I'm so excited for her, it will be her first child, and as I know so little about giving birth and looking after babies I keep asking her questions, it's as if I myself were expecting a child, but so far there's no sign of that. However, in some ways I'm looking forward to running the house in her absence, because there is not too much to do during the day. Mrs Maidment gives me lots of hints and tips. 'Don't let that butcher trick you into buying pork when you want beef' she says. 'He'll see that you don't know much about housekeeping, and give you short weight or choose a joint with nothing but bone in it. Look here, you can see the texture and the colour of beef is different from that of pork.' And then she continues to talk about the times she worked as a maid at Marston Magna, when she first said that I thought she was referring to Combe Magna – Willoughby's place – and I'm sure I blushed when I thought of him.

Peter and I have had little chance to talk about his previous life, because there was so much to arrange before our marriage, but one evening we sat down in front of the fire – it

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Verlag: BookRix GmbH & Co. KG

Tag der Veröffentlichung: 13.04.2013
ISBN: 978-3-7309-2216-3

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