A Modern Day Sense and Sensibility: An Adaptation of Jane Austen's Classic (25 page)

“Edward is the most unselfish person I have ever known,” Marianne defended, oblivious to Lucy’s deeper meaning. Although she meant this as a compliment, it only made Edward feel guilty.

As his remorse and discomfort mounted, Edward felt his heart rebel against everything he’d been raised to value. He wanted to be selfish—he wanted to have his own way and be free no matter who it hurt—but he wouldn’t. Trying to outrun his anguished thoughts, Edward shot up out of his seat.

“Are you leaving already?” Marianne asked sorrowfully.

“Yes, I . . . I,” Edward fumbled for his car keys, “I forgot about something I need to do.”

Although Marianne jumped to her feet in protest, Ellie lowered her eyes understandingly. Edward needed to leave.

As soon as the door shut behind him, Marianne turned to Ellie, frustration evident by her slanted eyebrows. Why hadn’t Ellie joined her in asking Edward to stay? Why had her sister treated him so coolly?

Lowering her gaze to avoid Marianne’s inquisitive eyes, Ellie picked up the book she’d been reading and left Marianne with Lucy. Ellie was tired and didn’t feel like answering anyone or anything, particularly not her aching heart.

Lucy talked non-stop about her lunch date with Francil, and all were thankful when the appointed day finally arrived. Taking two hours to prepare, Lucy wore her best outfit and even got a manicure for the occasion. She desperately wanted to earn Francil’s respect.

As Francil had instructed, Lucy met her at an upscale restaurant a few blocks from the Palmers’ flat. Everything Francil ordered, so did Lucy: a diet Coke with lemon (and a straw), a vinaigrette salad and whole wheat pita bread.

For the first hour of their visit, the two talked fashion, babies, and workout routines until Francil popped an uncharted question before taking a delicate bite of her salad—“So, what do you plan to do with your degree?”

“My dream is to go into broadcasting,” Lucy said, folding her arms in front of herself on the table.

“Well,” Francil took a drink of her soda, “I am sure whatever you put your mind to you will accomplish.”

“I hope so,” Lucy beamed, “I’d do anything to get to the top.”

“I admire your ambition. You are a beautiful, intelligent woman. I am sure there are big things in store for you.”

Lucy ate up Francil’s flattery, wanting to believe every word. “Why, thank you!” she smiled, thinking Francil was absolutely the most wonderful person in the world as she, too, took a sip of her diet Coke.

“But . . . getting to the top is no fun unless you have someone to share your successes with,” Francil’s change in tone indicated she was ready to start prying. “Is there anyone special in your life?”

Lucy blushed—a dead giveaway that Francil had hit the target. “Well, there is this certain someone. . .” Lucy played coy.

“Ahh! I knew it!” Francil declared, shifting in her seat with excitement. “Tell me who! Is his family well off?”

“Oh, very,” Lucy said with emphasis.

“You’re not going to tell me, are you?” Francil feigned disappointment.

“Well, it’s a very big secret.” Lucy hesitated, not sure whether to trust Francil or not.

“Oh, please, I can keep a secret,” Francil tried to be convincing.

Lucy took a deep breath—Francil adored her, right? Maybe this was the perfect time to “let the cat out of the bag.” Leaning in, Lucy whispered what she hoped would be music to Francil’s ears, “I am engaged to your brother, Edward.” But Lucy couldn’t have been more wrong.

“What!?!” Francil shrieked. Lucy immediately drew back, fearing for her safety as Francil stood, her features altered by rage. “You contriving little gold digger!” she shouted at the terrified Lucy, gaining attention from the whole restaurant. “How dare you!” Grabbing her diet Coke, Francil was prepared to splash it on Lucy’s best outfit.

Lucy distanced herself from Francil in a matter of seconds. She hadn’t expected this reaction at all, and now that Francil had turned all Cruella de Vil on her, she didn’t want to hang around and hear it. Completely and utterly mortified, Lucy grabbed her purse and rushed from the restaurant in tears.

“That’s right!” Francil yelled after her. “Get out of here!
Your
type doesn’t belong here—and
never
will!”

Too late for any sort of rescue, the manager came to their table. He’d chosen to ignore the initial outburst because not only was her mother a syndicated radio talk show host, but she was, after all, Mrs. Dashwood of Dashwood International, a multi-million dollar company, and a loyal customer—but her ranting had gone too far. “Is everything okay, Mrs. Dashwood?” the manager asked.

“Check, please!” Francil ordered as she quickly grabbed her cell phone and speed-dialed her mother. “Mom?” she spoke into the phone with distress—signaling Lucy’s seeming defeat.

That morning, Charlotte asked Marianne and Ellie to accompany her to several early learning centers she was considering for her unborn baby. Although Marianne excused herself, Ellie felt obligated to go with their gracious hostess. The task was exhausting, and Ellie wondered what she’d gotten herself into. Every school they visited was crowded with crying babies, pushy mothers trying to register their children last-minute, and egotistical employees who reigned like gods. By the time she returned to the flat with Charlotte for lunch, the prospect of vegging out on the couch with Marianne, watching reruns, never sounded more wonderful.

As the two got reacquainted with one of their favorite childhood sitcoms
Saved by the Bell
, Ellie took the opportunity to observe her sister. She noted ever increasing dark circles under Marianne’s eyes, the hollowness now consuming her sister’s once youthful cheeks, and the unhealthy pale shade Marianne’s skin was now wearing, a striking difference from the young woman’s once healthy glow. Ellie debated whether she should talk to her mom or consult a doctor. But before she could dwell more on this predicament, Mrs. Jennings burst through the front door.

“Ellie! Marianne!” Mrs. Jennings exclaimed, out of breath as she hustled toward them. “Girls! You will never believe what happened!”

Ellie brainstormed the possibilities.
Mr. Middleton has a girlfriend
? She chuckled.
Oh, Bloomingdale’s must be having a fantastic sale
.

“You remember Lucy had lunch with Francil this afternoon?” continued Mrs. Jennings.

At the mention of Lucy’s lunch date, Ellie immediately got a sickening feeling in her stomach. Of course she remembered, but what could have happened during this lunch that seemed so exciting and important to share? Both she and Marianne nodded, encouraging Mrs. Jennings to finish.

“Well,” the elderly woman began to satisfy their curious looks, “Come to find out, Lucy has been secretly engaged to Edward Ferrars for more than two years!”

Turning quickly to face her sister, Marianne was ready to share a look of disbelief and was confused when Ellie only glanced away. Although Marianne knew better than to expect an elaborate, outward display of pain, she had been anticipating some momentary loss of emotional control—even if only for a split second. With the void of any such reaction, she knew something wasn’t adding up and continued observing Ellie as Mrs. Jennings went on.

“Francil found out about the engagement and demanded that Lucy leave the restaurant!” Mrs. Jennings declared as she shuffled over to the kitchen counter and began fussing around for a piece of paper. “Lucy is completely distraught. She’s sitting out in the taxi waiting for me.” The elderly woman found what she was looking for and quickly turned back to them. “I’m going to try and cheer her up.” And then starting toward the door, she motioned to the advertisement in her hand, “Bloomingdale’s is having a sale! I’ll probably take her out to dinner, too, so tell Charlotte not to worry about us.”

Even though Mrs. Jennings had come like a hurricane bearing bad news, Ellie dreaded the elderly woman’s departure, knowing it meant she’d be left alone to face Marianne. Long after Mrs. Jennings rushed through the door to rejoin
Lucy, the two sisters sat motionless until Marianne slowly shut off the noisy television and turned to face Ellie.

“You knew, didn’t you?” Marianne asked softly.

Delaying her reply, Ellie stood and walked toward the kitchen counter, seeking distraction from her own feelings. “Lucy told me just before we came to New York.” Glancing up quickly at Marianne, she saw that her sister was visibly upset, no—hurt. In an effort to explain, Ellie added, “She made me promise not to tell anyone. I couldn’t break my word.”

“But Ellie, I can tell he loves you!” Marianne declared. Perhaps her own situation made her more sympathetic toward Ellie’s—it was unbearable for Marianne to witness two people in love only to be parted forever because of circumstances out of their control.

“He’s made Lucy a promise and Edward isn’t one to take his word lightly. . .” Ellie tried to explain, more for her own sake than her sister’s.

“Why can’t you ever fight for something you want?” Marianne challenged as she stood, walking toward her sister.

“You think I don’t want to fight?” Ellie questioned as she moved away, an emotional edge creeping into her voice. “You think I don’t want to just tell Edward what a sneaky, conniving little
rat
he’s going to marry? You have
no
idea how much I’ve wanted to tell him that I love him and that he should be with me. . .” Ellie paused, and should have stopped there—Marianne would have been satisfied with the quick glimpse into the depths of her sister’s feelings—but she didn’t, and regretted it. “. . .but someone in this family has to be realistic since no one else is,” Ellie continued. “Tell me, Marianne, did you honestly believe that your pleading emails would make Jim come back to you? He’d already made up his mind the day he walked out of the apartment.”

Ellie, who had been avoiding eye contact up to this point, now looked at Marianne and saw that her sister’s face was covered in tears. Regret flooded her innermost being as she rushed to Marianne and enveloped her in a guilty embrace,
holding her sister close. At contact, Marianne’s sobs unleashed, and Ellie felt the pain her remarks had caused.

“Please forgive me,” Ellie pleaded as she stroked Marianne’s tresses. “I shouldn’t have said that. It was cruel.”

After a moment, Marianne nodded with understanding and clutched her sister, miserably. “I want to go home, Ellie,” she spoke quietly.

Offering to help Charlotte make lunch the next day, Ellie thought it would be the perfect opportunity to spend some quality time with their host and thank Mrs. Jennings’s daughter for her hospitality. But her hopes for a quiet moment were squashed when James decided to watch football in the next room and Mrs. Jennings, rather than take her daily afternoon nap, opted to chat away with Charlotte at the kitchen table. Although Charlotte seemed happy to have her mother’s company, Ellie had to admit she was disappointed.

“Then, after I spotted Mom at Bloomingdale’s yesterday,” continued the peppy Charlotte as she recounted some information she was sure Ellie would want to hear, especially since it concerned Edward, “we stopped by a coffee shop where I saw my friend Maria.” Charlotte had a tendency of talking more loudly when she got excited, and therefore was a bit of a distraction to James who noticeably laid his head against the back of the couch with frustration. “And Maria had heard from Francil herself that Mrs. Ferrars has totally disinherited Edward.”