A Modern Day Sense and Sensibility: An Adaptation of Jane Austen's Classic (18 page)

“Come on, Ellie, you know me better than that,” Marianne self-righteously stood and began pacing back and forth across the family room. “Nothing happened. All we did was visit his aunt’s home.”

“His aunt, the former mayor?” Ellie asked.

Marianne nodded, then sat down beside her sister, her eyes filled with excitement. “Ellie, the house was
so
beautiful. It looked just like an English cottage and even had a tree house in the backyard. Willoughby and I went over all the things he’d like to change when he inherits the house, like putting in a gazebo and a hot tub.”

“What did his aunt have to say about that?” Ellie smirked.

“She wasn’t there,” Marianne blushed, turning her face away from Ellie’s shocked expression.

“You were alone in the house with him all that time?”

“I told you nothing happened. We’d driven all that way, and it would have been stupid to turn right back around just because his aunt didn’t happen to be home.”

“How far away is this house?”

“It’s out in the country,” Marianne skirted the question.

“Is it like a couple of hours away?”

“No,” Marianne admitted. “I think it took a half-hour to get there.”

Ellie’s look admonished her sister. “Marianne, you don’t know Jim that well. What if he had—”

“Oh Ellie, how could you even think a thing like that! Jim is the last person I know who would try to force himself on me! He respects me.”

Marianne’s pious look set Ellie off, reminding her not only about the honking incident earlier, but also the fact that Willoughby had disregarded curfew
and
had purposely stolen her sister away for some very isolated alone time. In Ellie’s mind, these were indicators of his lack of respect. She told Marianne just that.

“Well not everyone can be a saint like you, Ellie!” Marianne retorted. “No one will ever measure up to your standards unless he’s boring like Edward. You’re so judgmental—no wonder he didn’t bother sticking around!” Marianne steamed as she stomped to their bedroom before pausing to add, “You’re not my mom, Ellie, so stop trying to be!” Slamming the door behind her, she left a wake of pain.

Ellie didn’t move for several minutes following her sister’s departure, allowing the sting of Marianne’s words to lessen before indulging in a few sorrowful tears. Of course she knew Marianne’s accusation was way off base, but it still hurt to have someone comment on how Edward hadn’t bothered visiting and that the only contact they’d received was a letter saying he couldn’t come.

All this bickering with Marianne was exhausting. Sure, the two of them fought from time to time—like normal sisters do—but they always made up in the end. It didn’t feel to Ellie like they’d ever make up now. Was it possible for them to recreate the closeness they’d once shared after having grown so far apart these past couple of weeks? This rift was unlike any the sisters had experienced before. They rarely talked, unless Ellie forced conversation on Marianne, and even then it was stilted and awkward because of their differing opinions. Although Ellie so desperately wanted to approve of her sister’s escalating romance, her conscience wouldn’t be put to ease until their acquaintance with Willoughby could be more thoroughly explored. Because of this, Marianne was withdrawing from her more and more each day.
At this rate, we’ll be strangers by Christmas
, Ellie repined.

Resituating herself on the couch, Ellie decided it best to sleep in the family room that night. She and Marianne needed space. While trying to make herself comfortable on the piece of furniture built more for style than comfort, Ellie hoped Marianne would cool off and see she wasn’t so “judgmental” after all. Marianne knew better than that. Yet with her being so upset, it was hard to tell how she’d react. And with tomorrow possibly bringing a marriage proposal, Ellie prayed Marianne wouldn’t repeat their conversation to Willoughby—she wanted to be invited to the wedding, even if she did disapprove.

To the fishing party’s dismay, Mr. Middleton chose a secluded bridge as their hunting ground instead of the nearby stream as they had hoped. Although a mere twenty-minute drive from their apartment, it seemed like hours from where they were sure an exciting event would soon be taking place. Both Diane and Ellie agreed Willoughby must be planning on popping the question with a big engagement ring. In fact, Diane was already congratulating herself on having a daughter so happily wed.

Try as hard as she might, Diane’s hints had done no good in persuading the seasoned fisherman to choose the wooded area behind Mrs. Jennings’s house. In that location, there was a small stream which fed into a miniature pond. And yes, it was true that in those polluted waters there wasn’t anything worth catching, but it was close enough to the apartment that, with frequent bathroom breaks, Diane and her girls would have plenty of opportunities to spy on their home. Even so, Mr. Middleton was adamant they needed to do some
real
fishing and therefore had “kidnapped” the girls (as Margaret put it), taking them to an old creaky bridge. Once there, he instructed them to lower their fishing lines into the water below and said the rest was up to chance.

Although the ladies were enjoying themselves, it became routine to ask what time it was nearly every five minutes, driving Mr. Middleton up the wall until he finally threatened
that if anyone else asked for the hour, he’d throw his watch into the river and let the fish tell them! Working around this threat, Ellie moved closer to Mr. Middleton and tried peeking at his watch whenever he wasn’t looking.

Seeing that her daughter’s new tactic was successful, Diane made sure Mr. Middleton was distracted by Margaret before mumbling under her breath, “What time is it?”

“9:10,” Ellie whispered back.

Before Diane could sigh and wish that another hour would pass by in the next ten minutes, she felt a tug on her pole and wasted no time reeling in her line with excitement.

Margaret, leaving her half-baited hook in the capable hands of Mr. Middleton, ran to her mother and graciously offered her assistance by attempting to take the pole.

The preoccupied Diane was too excited to share this experience with her daughter and tugged at the fish with her own strength, “It’s a big one!” she exclaimed.

“Reel it in, Mom!” Margaret shouted.

By now Diane was spinning the rod’s contraption like crazy and the fishing line was taut, pulling her into the bridge’s railing. But just as quickly as she’d snagged it, the fish wriggled loose, swimming triumphantly down stream in front of the disappointed group. Margaret lingered at the bridge’s railing long after the adults lost interest, continuing to watch for the catch that got away.

Diane tried to shrug off her disappointment as she grabbed another worm to re-bait her hook, “Maybe next time. . .” she half-smiled.

“Can we go home now?” Margaret turned eagerly to her mother.

“Margaret!” Diane’s voice rang with warning as she glanced toward Mr. Middleton with a blush. She had specifically instructed Margaret that under
no
circumstances was she to ask to go home! Obviously, Margaret needed more practice with her listening skills. “Jim wasn’t coming to the apartment until nine,” Diane reminded her daughter calmly.

“It shouldn’t take him that long to propose!” Margaret’s frankness had them all laughing, and with understanding Mr. Middleton began packing his gear.

Diane assured him they didn’t have to leave that second, but it was settled. “We’ll give them twenty minutes more and then head for home,” Mr. Middleton acquiesced. “In the meantime, pass me another worm.”

In about half the time it took to get to the fishing spot, Mr. Middleton was safely returned to his front door, and the three Dashwood ladies hurried with anticipation to their apartment. Just as they were pulling into their parking spot, however, Willoughby surprised them by rushing from the apartment.

“There’s Jim!” Margaret pointed at him.

Instead of seeing the uncontainable joy beaming from his features as they were all expecting, Willoughby’s face was pained with grief and sorrow.

Diane couldn’t understand what was wrong. Could Marianne have refused him? No, they were confident about her feelings for Willoughby and her desire to marry him. But then what happened? Maneuvering their vehicle next to him, Diane rolled down the window and asked, “Jim, are you leaving right now?” Although it was obvious he was, Diane hoped Willoughby’s answer might help her discover what was going on.

Yet, rather than answer, Willoughby only paused in his gait—proving that things were indeed worse than she feared. “Jim, are you okay?” Diane pursued, “What’s the matter?”

“I have to leave,” Willoughby answered resolutely, avoiding eye contact.

“Why? Where are you going?” Diane asked, searching his face for answers.

“New York.”

“New York—now? But Jim, I thought you weren’t leaving until this evening?” Diane’s voice was becoming desperate. Why the change in his plans? And what about Marianne?

“My aunt is . . .
sending
me to New York immediately. . .” he hesitated, “. . .on business.”

The only shred of hope Diane could cling to was that Willoughby had yet to mention anything about a break-up. Maybe he was embarrassed the two had argued? Or perhaps his aunt didn’t like Marianne and was forcing him to end it? But why would anyone attempt something so heartless? It was obvious the pair were deeply attached to each other and that any lengthy separation would be unbearable for them. Surely Willoughby would find a way to still see her daughter. “You won’t be away long . . . I hope,” Diane said quietly, her vigor fading.

Willoughby blushed, “You’re too kind, but . . . I . . . I don’t have any plans of returning to Oregon any time soon.”

Diane fell back against the driver’s seat with resignation. All the while, Willoughby had yet to move.

None of this was making sense to Ellie. Why would Willoughby ask for a “private audience” with Marianne and then suddenly have mysterious reasons for leaving immediately to New York? Ellie was sure there was more to this story than he was letting on.

“Jim,” Diane started again, this time with tears forming behind her eyes, “I hope it’s not your aunt that’ll be keeping you away. You know you’re always welcome to stay with us.”

Yet, Willoughby was still resistant, acting so unlike his previous self. “My situation at this time is in such a condition—I couldn’t—stay even if—” Willoughby stopped, turning away from them before shaking his head and hurrying to his car, leaving the bewildered trio behind.

The sound of his vehicle booming to a start made them jump and they watched as Willoughby sped off into the distance. The three of them sat shell-shocked for several
minutes following Willoughby’s departure before Diane finally parked the car and they headed cautiously inside.

“Marianne?” Ellie called out, stepping into the apartment with apprehension. Heading to the room she shared with her sister, Ellie peered inside but saw no signs of Marianne. She quickly roamed about her mother’s room next, but Marianne was not there either. Meanwhile, Diane scanned the living room while Margaret ventured around the outside of the apartment.

As a last resort, Ellie tried the bathroom door handle and found it was locked. “Marianne?” she asked softly, but received no reply.

Hearing Ellie’s quiet plea, Diane rushed to the bathroom door and spoke frantically into it. “Honey, what’s wrong? What happened?”

When still no answer came, both pressed an ear against the door. Sure enough, the sound of Marianne crying caught their attention. With relief they stood back, calming their anxious heartbeats. At least Marianne was alive and breathing. Still, whatever had happened that morning hadn’t gone well. Willoughby was gone—perhaps forever—and now Marianne just wanted to be left alone. Would they ever know what took place?