Page 100 of Threads that Remain

He told them the whole of the story of his encounters with Annabelle Ferrars, and the deal they had struck.

When both carriages arrived back at Berkeley Square, and the families were settled in the drawing-room, both Marianne and Elinor voiced their worries.

Elinor began. “Henry, Sarah has told us of Annabelle’s proposition. My concern is: how can you be sure she is to be trusted?”

“My thoughts exactly!” exclaimed Marianne. “I would not be surprised if this were another scheme of Lucy’s that she put her daughter up to! Lucy looked quite pleased with herself after you danced with Annabelle.”

“Mamma, Aunt Elinor,” Henry said evenly. “Surely, you cannot believe me to be in danger? I assure you I do not have a fickle heart. My feelings will always remain constant towards Sarah.”

Sarah blushed and looked at him sweetly. He smiled back at her.

“No, of course not, Henry,” confirmed Marianne. “It is not you that I am worried about.”

“We do not doubt your feelings, Henry,” said Elinor. “Your being in danger of becoming a pawn in Lucy’s schemes, however, is a very real possibility.”

“Knowing what little I do about Mrs. Ferrars, and remembering good Mrs. Jennings’s words from years ago, you are right to be concerned; in fact, Annabelle said you might be. That is why she has arranged to have Cecilia Wren invite her to call tomorrow at two o’clock in the afternoon. She took it upon herself to have her mother invite Grandmother and Meg to call at the same hour.

“Annabelle’s mother has another engagement, and as the Ferrars and the Wrens are close neighbours, Annabelle is allowed to be escorted by a footman, who will not be privy to anything said in the drawing-room. Mother, you and Aunt Elinor are invited as well.”

Marianne and Elinor exchanged looks.

“Oh my, she certainly has learned a thing or two from her mother,” said Elinor. “All right, we will go and see what she has to say.”

Chapter XLV.

“As I told Henry, Mr. Brandon, that is,” Annabelle began, “Mr. Merrier, is that not the loveliest name you ever heard, is a rector on my sister Honoria’s estate. Her estate is two full days’ journey from London, which suits her just fine, and would suit me even more.”

“And Mr. Merrier knows all this? The whole of the campaign?” asked Margaret.

“I must own he knows a good deal more of it than he is entirely comfortable with, I think, being a straightforward sort of man who would rather simply ask my father directly and have done with it,” said Annabelle, stopping to take a sip of her tea. “Like any normal gentleman would.”

Elinor remarked, “You speak very openly.”

“I do. But nothing compared to Honoria,” she acknowledged. “Now as I said, Mr. Merrier is a straightforward man. But Honoria will not let him be quite so straightforward, not yet. She has told him, in considerable detail, exactly how he is to conduct himself at every ball this Season — civil to my mother, attentive but never pointed toward me, no single dance that could be remarked on, nothing that would put her on her guard before he is ready to speak. My mother notices everything, truly everything, where a daughter’s prospects are concerned, and the smallest excess of attention from an undesirable quarter will have her moving heaven and earth to end it before it has properly begun.”

“Mr. Merrier must be a very patient man to go along with all this,” added Marianne.

“You have hit the proverbial nail on the head, Mrs. Brandon!” Annabelle exclaimed. “He is patient, and discreet, and waits for his moment, and in the meanwhile, Honoria has also been coaching him — with Georgiana adding her own opinions wherever she thinks they are wanted, which is often — on exactly what he is to say when the moment does come, and he goes to ask my father for my hand.”

“Your father.” Cecilia could not entirely keep the note of surprise from her voice. “I had rather thought, from what little I know of the household, that it was your mother who held the real authority on such questions.”

“My mother holds the authority on every question in that house, Mrs. Wren, down to the colour of the drawing-room curtains, which is precisely why my sisters have thought so carefully about how Mr. Merrier is to manage my father instead of her.” With a small, wry smile, she continued, “He is a good father but is not, I am sorry to say, a man of very much sense, and still less of very much resolve — he has spent thirty years agreeing with my mother so thoroughly and so automatically that I do not believe he has formed an independent opinion since before he married her.”

Marianne pressed her napkin firmly to her mouth.

“But that is exactly the weakness Honoria means to turn to our advantage. She says — and Georgiana entirely agrees with her — that if Mr. Merrier goes to my father directly and uses certain words she has very particularly chosen for him, about duty, and about a father’s proper authority in his own household standing above any other consideration, my father’s vanity will very likely carry the day before my mother is even properly informed there was a question to be decided. He does so love to be told he is master in his own house, poor man, precisely because he knows, somewhere underneath it, that he never has been. Honoria believes — and I own I think she is right, she generally is — that my father, having once given his blessing in a moment of flattered resolve, will dig in his heels against reversing it out of nothing more than wounded pride, which is very likely the only form of backbone the man possesses, but which will, on this one occasion, serve us very well indeed.”

Marianne could not hold back any longer and found that she was laughing, quietly and with real delight, in a way she had not expected the afternoon to produce. “I begin to think the three of you a good deal more dangerous, collectively, than your mother has ever been given credit for.”

“We had an excellent teacher,” said Annabelle, without the smallest trace of guilt, “and have simply put the lessons to better use than she intended.”

An hour later, Marianne and Elinor, satisfied with discourse, said good-bye and returned to their carriage. Once they were on their way both began to laugh until tears rolled down their faces and they were gasping for air.

When finally, they could speak again, Elinor said, “Oh Marianne! Whenever I saw those three girls as they were growing up, I would never have imagined how things would turn out. They were always so quiet and looked like three little blue-eyed angels.”

“Another trait they got from their mother!” replied Marianne. “I almost feel guilty for being a party to this … scheme.”

Elinor, always so calm and sensible looked at her sister. “I do not. Not even a little.”