Roc might write about or blog media they're consuming here, and occasionally talk about stuff they're doing, just to practice writing productively. Approx total wordcount: 45200
First week back into semester has kept me busy and distracted this week, I suspect it'll probably keep me further distracted going forward but hopefully I'll settle into some kind of rhythm.
Previously, the Dashwoods finally have their encounter with Willoughby. It's awkward. Really awkward. Willoughby no longer seems to care for Marianne as she still does for him, and, well, that's a heartbreaker. Hartshorn gets involved, and Elinor is left to wonder how lucky she is to not have had a messy breakup.
Willoughby is a dick. >:(
Readthrough below.
Chapter 29
Marianne's got that grief-stricken crying half-dressed 5am furious letter writing going on. This isn't something I've personally experienced, but somehow I can feel it. Emotionally devastated, go to bed early, but then you lie awake at 4am with nothing but your emotions burning cold fuel through your mind and so you get up to find some outlet to expel it and then you pick up a pen.
Well, she's writing what I presume to be a breakup letter to Willoughby but it seems the same to me. Elinor just watches silently because actual comforts are unwelcome right now. Marianne wants to be alone.
Ha... ha... somehow all this drama has flown completely over Mrs. Jennings's head. She still thinks Marianne's most madly in love and due to marry Willoughby any moment now. Well, I suppose the madly in love thing is still true, considering heartbreak to be the desolation of love rather than its immediate end. But Jennings still yet finds it all amusing, and goes about making incredibly ironic jokes about it. Ouch.
Well, we've all been there.
Elinor can't keep quiet at this though, understandably. She does the smiling berating thing that the Dashwoods do, chews Mrs. Jennings out for wantonly believing that Marianne would be engaged to Willoughby, and then prematurely spreading that around town. That's... very bad. Oh dear.
Well she's not going to make any progress on Mrs. Jennings who still treats it all as a joke, so she goes after consoling Marianne, who had just left earlier after receiving a letter. Presumably from Willoughby, and therefore presumably worrying.
she saw Marianne stretched on the bed, almost choked by grief, one letter in her hand, and two or three others laying by her.
A-ah.
Elinor drew near, but without saying a word; and seating herself on the bed, took her hand, kissed her affectionately several times, and then gave way to a burst of tears, which at first was scarcely less violent than Marianne's.
O-oh...
They really are sisters. This is a heck of a lot more emotional of a scene than I was expecting, coming from Elinor's perspective.
I have to say, while I can relate to a lot of things, or understand a lot of experiences I have never shared or are unlikely to share, this one is always the one that eludes me. The family one, the one that's emotionally intimate. Emotional intimacy in general is a little rare for me, but I do experience and understand it. But in a familial context... I can't do it. This is a sweet scene between sisters/of sisterhood as I understand it on a categorical level, but it also enters a territory that I find alien and perhaps downright intimidating. Maybe even terrifying.
If I even just pretended for a moment that they were just close friends then this would seem normal enough. But when it's contextualised as arising from a familial relationship... Well, that's just me.
Returning to the story, consolation by way of extreme empathy goes on for some time before Elinor turns her attention to the letters. Answers!
....
Can I send these answers back?
"MY DEAR MADAM,
[...] I am quite at a loss to discover in what point I could be so unfortunate as to offend you,"
YOU SHUT YOUR TRAP WILLOUGHBY! >:(
You know damn well what you been doing! Ignoring somebody for weeks. Falling out of love isn't in any way inherently wrong, but running from somebody like that sure is!
"if I have been so unfortunate as to give rise to a belief of more than I felt, or meant to express,"
Uh-huh. Sure.
"understand that my affections have been long engaged elsewhere, and it will not be many weeks, I believe, before this engagement is fulfilled."
EXCUSE. >:(
I was joking when I said he was also already engaged! Eurgh, can we just trade in all these guys and start over? Or just ignore them! Ignore all the guys. Spinster it up. I was giving him the benefit of the doubt but Willoughby is now the bad worst. Coward! Eddie you're on thin ice, you're only so much different from Willoughby, four years engaged. Brandon... I mean you aight but seriously? The teenager? You're 35, man. I'm still pretending you ain't right now.
"I am, dear madam,
Your most obedient, humble servant,
“JOHN WILLOUGHBY."
You take your platitudes and shove it, Johnny. Your only suffering is the shame of your own actions. You get no sympathy.
With what indignation such a letter as this might be read by Miss Dashwood, may be imagined.
I'm imagining it alright.
Willoughby YOU ASS! COWARD! PRETENDING LIKE YOU DON'T KNOW EXACTLY WHAT YOU'VE BEEN DOING! SHAMEFUL WORM! GET BACK HERE AND APOLOGISE PROPERLY!
.__.
Well, this chapter ain't done but I sure am, wow. It's a long chapter and I'm very tired. And also mad at Willoughby, though I suppose at this point I should've seen it coming like Elinor did.
Previously, Marianne's emotional state deteriorates as Willoughby continues to ghost her. Meanwhile, rumors of their engagement spread to Brandon, whose heart it falls upon poor Elinor to break.
Today I went on a big tangent learning what hartshorn is and what it is used for. It’s been a while since I went a big tangent.
Readthrough below.
Chapter 28
Another half-week passes and still no Willoughby. The Dashwoods are off to attend another Middleton party, a hot and stuffy one, which must imply an amazing number of attendees considering it's still winter. Marianne is throughly depressed and completely out of it.
Oh.
Well, here is the man at last. Elinor spots Willoughby a few metres away and makes eye contact. Willoughby bows in greeting and then continues to ignore them, in favour of the another young lady he's currently speaking to. I'm not going to jump to any conclusions yet.
Margaret sees him too, glows, and is ready to run him straight down but Elinor stops her. "Do not betray what you feel to everybody present." Hmm, I dunno if Marianne can manage that. She tries though, sitting with an "agony of impatience". I like these lines.
Willoughby finally approaches and... greets Elinor while avoiding eye contact with Marianne. And the first thing he asks is how Mama Dashwood is doing. Look, we all love Mama Dashwood, but please man, what is going on with you? Elinor is absolutely speechless.
Marianne is not.
"Good God! Willoughby, what is the meaning of this? Have you not received my letters? Will you not shake hands with me?"
You know it's serious when God's name is invoked. I don’t remember that Marianne’s done that before. She's tearing straight to the heart of the matter, demands to know why he's avoiding her so much. Seems to try to hold his hand too, but he lets her go.
Willoughby tries to excuse himself by saying that he did try to visit and missed them while they were out, but that's obviously not enough. Marianne still wants to know why he never wrote to her. Did he miss all her letters?
Apparently no. Willoughby just looks really embarassed, mumbles something about having received all the letters, and then hurries back to the other lady with no further comment. O-okay.
Marianne, now looking dreadfully white, and unable to stand, suck into her chair,
Oh dear. Elinor's worried she'll faint. She's definitely close to causing a scene. Marianne begs Elinor to make Willoughby come talk to her. Elinor won't, as the middle of a party is not the time or place; Marianne is inconsolable either way though and it's all Elinor can do to stop her from finding Willoughby and messily interrogating him herself in public. Willoughby's probably noticed all this and has escaped the room.
With no Willoughby left to chase Marianne just begs to be taken home. Understandable. Lady Middleton hands over her playing cards to a friend (I just like this little detail, I want to play cards with my friends now) and finds them a carriage and the sisters go home immediately.
Marianne was in a silent agony, too oppressed even for tears;
... What is this? Some kind of old plant-based antidepressant drug?
I looked it up! Hartshorn here refers to Salt of Hartshorn, which was used a smellingsalt. And also as a precursor to baking powder, but here it's a smellingsalt. Rather than a plant, it's literally made from the horn of a hart. Distilled horn. How do you even distill a deer antler?
I can't find any videos of people distilling deer horns or animal bone in general, but I imagine it probably resembles this wood distillation. That produces the oil of hartshorn, but I can't find much more information on how the salt of hartshorn is produced. Wiki says its a dry distillation of the oil (and has no citations for it), but everything I can find on dry distillation says its a process applied to solids. I'm just going to assume the oil was distilled again until only some kind of ammonium powder remains. I spent too much time looking this up but it was really cool.
Given it is a smellingsalt, "restored a little to herself" would be referring to how she was feeling faint earlier, as opposed to her emotional state like I initially thought. I guess emotional state just isn’t easily fixed.
It's really neat to find every now and then while reading this book, the odd random reference to something that needed no explanation back then, that is completely foreign to me today. Hartshorn seems to have been a household enough item that it wasn't necessary for Austen to even specify that if it was the salt, oil, spirit or jelly. I think it's just extra fascinating that it just blindsides me out of nowhere and leaves as soon as it appears. It's completely mundane.
A-anyway.
Marianne goes straight to bed early while Elinor ponders the events of the night. Her assessment of Willoughby as he appeared, is straightforward:
Some kind of engagement with Marianne did exist, and with genuine attachment.
He's "grown weary" of Marianne. Absence made the heart grow weaker?
He may already have somebody new.
He does feel guilty, so he's probably not entirely devoid of conscience.
Elinor finds she no longer as anything to envy in Marianne, as whatever happens, she can stay good friends with Edward. Marianne's relationship with Willoughby on the other hand, is probably irreparable. Welp.
Welp. That's two chapters, two broken hearts. What a mess. =I
Guess there'll at least be no more reason not to expect answers about Willoughby anymore, so I imagine that's the natural next chapter. Not even sure how though, if he's trying to avoid the sisters.
Previously, the Dashwood sisters arrive in London. Despite apparently being in town, Willoughby seems to be ghosting poor excited Marianne, who is getting more disappointed by the minute. A consolation Brandon just doesn't hit the same.
Readthrough below.
Chapter 27
Dashwood girls and Mrs. Jennings open this chapter by discussing the consequences of fine weather: namely that it keeps sportspeople from wanting to leave the open playing fields of the country. Sir Middleton might delay his arrival to enjoy a few extra days of sunshine, and Marianne's anxieties are eased by considering that maybe Willoughby too couldn't tear himself from a fine country day.
That the sunshine isn't expected to last much longer also makes her excited for the possibility of it no longer (hypothetically) holding Willoughby away from London. I think Elinor and I both suspect the weather has nothing to do with it.
The Miss Dashwoods had no greater reason to be dissatisfied with Mrs. Jennings's style of living, and set of acquaintance, than with her behaviour to themselves, which was invariably kind.
It's been a while since actively noted an Austenism but I feel like it just got inverted. Usually it's something positive that gets the rug swept out under it; this time it's something negative that got inverted. I guess it's extra appropriate here seeing as the Miss Dashwoods have never really held any particularly positive disposition to Mrs. Jennings before. I like it.
Colonel Brandon, who had a general invitation to the house, was with them almost every day; he came to look at Marianne and talk to Elinor
:'D
I would like to do that. The constantly casually visiting friends thing, I mean. Not the looking part. That's a bit odd, though I'm taken to be aware that "can't take my eyes off you" is definitely a thing a that happens to people, so, eh. It's harder in reality though, the constant visiting. Pandemic aside, Mrs. Jennings most definitely has servants taking care of general affairs when anyone visits. If I dropped by on any of my friends though, there's a high probability that I'd be imposing in some way that requires personal domestic effort on my friends' part.
Elinor observes that Brandon's little crush on Marianne is growing somewhat larger than little. Hmm.
Oh! But also, a week into the visit, a card arrives from Willoughby! So he's recieved the communications from Marianne. Despite that though he's made no real substantial response... Marianne's even more highly strung now just waiting for anything. No sitting still, no getting on with anything else in her life. Yeah, I know that feeling, it ain't nice.
Whoop, she got to the point where she snatched a random letter off of a servant just to make sure it wasn't from Willoughby. At this point Elinor can no longer refrain from probing at least a little, but mostly that just offends Marianne who claims to have nothing to hide. While snatching letters from people and pretending it ain't nothang. Nobody is convinced but it doesn't help Elinor extract anything from her.
The Middletons have arrived and Lady M has invited her mother and the Dashwoods over to visit. Sir M has, extremely characteristically, immediately thrown a big party. :'D
Willoughby is of course not in attendance, so it will be impossible for Marianne to feel happiness tonight. The Palmers are there, and Mr. Palmer has apparently forgotten who the Dashwoods are; fair enough. Has forgotten for ONE PARAGRAPH until remembering them AN HOUR LATER dear god this disaster man. :'D
"I thought you were both in Devonshire," said he.
"Did you?" Elinor replied.
"When do you go back again?"
"I do not know." And thus ended their discourse.
This exchange. :'D
I had to go back and check to make sure that the Barton Cottage actually was in Devonshire, because it would've been even funnier if Mr. Palmer just thought they were in some completely irrelevant place altogether. I feel like Jane Austen has to have known somebody who was Mr. Palmer.
Apparently Willoughby was invited to this party, because Sir Middleton ran into him on the street in the morning. He's still not here to even see her. Poor Marianne seems very hurt. Elinor's pretty resolved to get Mama Dashwood's support in intervening now. Marianne is also writing a letter in the morning, which Elinor assumes is addressed to Willoughby, specifically for the lack of any other candidate.
See, when the narration puts it like that, I really start to think she's not writing to Willoughby at all. Maybe somebody else with a W. Or an M, if we're doing the upside down letters fakeout. The Middletons? ... Miss Williams...?
As Elinor drafts the letter to her mother, Brandon visits. Marianne has already vacated the room on account of not being in the mood for company, which is just as well because Brandon seems to want to talk to Elinor alone. ... He probably does that in a general sense anyway, he and Elinor like talking to each other and I sense that Marianne just has zero interest in interacting with him in general, even without considering the current situation with Willoughby.
I haven't really bothered to speculate on who ends up who but it occurs to me that there being three suitors around with varying levels of chemistry for the two sisters, perhaps that is intended to be part of the allure of the novel. It is a romance after all.
Hmm. Nope, can't tell. All three men are rather broadly too absent. Eddie seems too detached to even hold a relationship, and Willoughby is doing his whole ghosting thing. Brandon is the only one who seems to have some kind of normal friendly relationship with either of the sisters, but neither he nor Elinor seem to be remotely interested in each other in any kind of non-platonic capacity, even though they seem to get along quite well. There's too much story left to go.
Oh, anyway, Brandon's come to ask about Marianne's engagement to Willoughby, which is apparently fairly public knowledge. That's not terribly surprising considering I feel like Elinor is the only person who really cares who holds any real doubts. But the rumor doth fly. Brandon's been holding onto some hope that it ain't true, but he's caved after seeing a servant carry a letter in Marianne's writing addressed to Willoughby.
OH NO. HE'S ALSO ASKING ELINOR FOR ROMANTIC ADVICE. HE'S IN SHAMBLES. THAT'S EVEN WORSE THAN ASKING ME FOR ROMANTIC ADVICE. :'D
At least I have absolutely zero stake in any situations people are foolhardy enough to consult me on. Such are the perils of appearing prudent. People bugging you for advice on matters that you really can't give.
Brandon is in some serious shambles right now though. He's kind of stumbling over himself, maybe even rambling a little. He's asking Elinor to fill him in on the exact state of the engagement, but it's almost like he's begging. He's desperate for either a last window for... something, or just some kind of absolute closure that will let him move on. He kind of has it pretty bad; even Elinor is in some shock right now, as though she were the one who suddenly had to deal with a rival engagement. Well. I mean, as though she had to deal with one a second time.
Well it's another tough week for Elinor's advice column. She doesn't barely know much of anything about Marianne's current relationship with Willoughby to begin with. To say what she thinks, that there's something odd going on and in no way confirmed, is to give Brandon false hope because for real he ain't gettin no time of day from Marianne. So she lies and just tells him about as much as anyone else probably says, that it's basically confirmed even if she doesn't know any details.
And that's that. Brandon leaves, emotionally, while wishing Marianne well.
she was left [...] with a melancholy impression of Colonel Brandon's unhappiness, and was prevented even from wishing it removed, by her anxiety for the very event that must confirm it.
Imagine being forced to break your friend's heart on behalf of somebody else, and needing to justify it on the a relationship you're hoping will actually even work out. That's a lot to handle.
That's this chapter. I wonder what this means now? Obviously something is still going to go wrong with Willoughby, and we still have a bunch of loose ends with Brandon, so he can't lose relevance yet.
Previously, Mrs. Jennings invites the Dashwood sisters to come stay with her in London over January. Elinor would rather not, but Mama Dashwood would rather they do. Marianne is very excited.
Readthrough below.
Chapter 26
Setting: Mrs. Jennings' carriage en-route to London. Elinor is melancholic, observing Marianne's comparative romantic prosperity with some envy. Marianne is, I assume, vibrating in her seat from sheer excited anticipation at the possibility of finding Willoughby in London.
For better or for worse, Elinor is waiting for the soon arriving moment when her suspicions of Willoughby are confirmed or rested. She thinks it will come very soon, in London. I was satisfied giving Willoughby every benefit of the doubt before, but Lucy has shaken my faith in the single-facedness of the cast. He's probably done something, but I'm not relationship-savvy enough to have any idea what it would be. Secretly married for 10 years probably.
Three days journey to London, Marianne as withdrawn against Mrs. Jennings as anticipated, Elinor compensating for her as expected, and Mrs. Jennings just being really friendly mostly. Well, the lady seems to have no real issues getting along with Mr. Palmer so I assume she's unflappable.
At arriving at Mrs. Jennings' residence the girls are set up in Charlotte's old room. Or do they really mean apartment when they say Charlotte's old apartment? Oh! So they really do mean an apartment. A set of private rooms in a large house. I guess that's exactly what a modern apartment block is, huh, a really really tall house that is just a block of sets of private rooms.
... H-how large is this place? The house is only described as "handsome" but if one daughter has her own set of private rooms in it, it's hard for me to consider it a "house" anymore. Small manor?
Anyway Elinor immediately starts drafting a letter to send Mama. Marianne roughly follows the example, but by evasively drafting some kind of short secret note to be immediately and speedily delivered to somebody with a W in the name, who is not specified but whom Elinor is very certain to be Willoughby.
If it was any other character I might assume this to be a misdirection of some kind whereby Marianne is actually secretly making arrangements with an unknown W man, except that because this is Marianne so I can't take the threat of her subtle machinations seriously. :'D
... Elinor's worried because Marianne is on edge. I guess the note was some kind of summons. She's getting anxious from a lack of news, and from a lack of Willoughby bursting in from the street, windswept and rainsoaked and breathless, sweeping her off her feet because nothing could forestall his coming. She's watching carriages and jumping at door knocks. And then their door knocks!
"Oh, Elinor, it is Willoughby, indeed it is!" and seemed almost ready to throw herself into his arms, when Colonel Brandon appeared.
:D
:D :D
Sorry Marianne, I'm just happy to see Brandon back in the story after 16 chapters! But also this is the second time you've been Willoughby-baited, you poor girl... hopefully he'll show up soon. Even if you are acting unattached for the sake of inheritance, to not visit a friend who is in town is a bit cold. =/
It was too great a shock to be borne with calmness, and she immediately left the room.
Oh, Marianne... :(
Also ouch though Brandon. To show up to greet some friends and have the immediate reaction be that you were the wrong friend. That's gotta smart. :'D
Mmm the story is still noting here, or at least that Elinor is observing, that Brandon is "so partial" to Marianne. As much as I like Brandon it's difficult for me to be comfortable with the idea; if the story were written from Brandon's perspective it'd be from the perspective of someone 35 harbouring a crush on a teenager. Late teenager sure, but still a teenager. Obviously expectations and standards would have been different, but still, from my perspective it's hard to imagine any internal thought process that pursues this sort of romantic interest as particularly justifiable.
Well, I suppose Brandon hasn't really acted on any such interest. I guess I'll leave it a little out of sight, out of mind for now.
Anyway, Brandon and Elinor exchange awkward civilities. Both kind of a bit out of it, both a little too worried about Marianne in different ways. Argh, Elinor was so close to asking Brandon what was going on with rumors of his daughter but stops herself out of propriety! Always getting in the way of narrative communication, propriety. Seriously, the amount of stories that could have avoided being pointlessly drawn out if friends actually talked to each other... anyway. Luckily, Mrs. Jennings shows up to break the ice!
Haha, she casually comments on Brandon's apparent rivalled intentions with Willoughby. That is definitely in poor taste, but I'm entertained to read it. You know what, I'm just going to headcanon for now that Brandon is around 25 just so I can be less bothered by the whole idea, otherwise I'm going to keep thinking about it every time it comes up. I still personally think that's an awkward age gap but it's a heck of a lot better than 35.
So Brandon heard about their arriving from the Palmers and- no, wait, Brandon bails before we can get any more out of him. It's okay, I've already waited like 16 chapters, I can wait longer. Marianne re-emerged from hiding and I guess it just awkwarded him the heck outta there.
The next day brings the Palmers to visit. Charlotte Palmer is comically envious that the Dashwoods turned down her invitation to winter in London, but accepted her mother's. Charlotte and her mother take the girls shopping, but Marianne is on high alert and can't calm down. Also spaced out. She's really anxious to see a Willoughby but none are manifesting.
Poor Marianne, the anticipation and disappointment is eating her alive. Elinor makes a note that if this continues too much longer she's really going to, well, "interfering". Or rather, she's going to write a letter to her mother making the case that interference has become necessary. Which is probably better?
And that's it here. Also feels a bit of a transitory/setup chapter; if I were to name it, it would probably be "Marianne's Disappointment" as that seems to be the principle element. But I suspect in the given case that Brandon could have been anybody and still had the same effect on Marianne, and that Brandon himself contributed nothing in his brief appearance to any of the intrigue surrounding himself, that Brandon's only specific purpose as a significant portion of this chapter is to remind everyone he exists and is in London. So, very much setup still.
Oooh new text editor - oh dear lord it’s broken right now. I can’t paste everything in and it just ate my the rest of my post when I tried to delete the readmore. Needs more time in the oven. Anyway.
Previously, Elinor and Lucy have A Polite Talk. About Edward. Sort of more like a standoff really, no real shots were fired but somehow I still feel like blood was drawn. Actually no, the more I think about it, shots were fired and Elinor has been gravely wounded.
Summary of Elinor and Lucy's pianoside pistols-at-dusk: Elinor is the faster shot, and clips Lucy early, but Oh! 'Tis but a flesh wound! But Elinor needs to reload, she's now wide open! Lucy takes aim and fires back! Oh! Straight through the HEART! Elinor can't recover from this! Lucy Steele emerges victorious, and her prize is conviction of Elinor's intent to surrender of Edward Ferrars.
Lucy Steele: Silk hiding Steele - Okay I should stop that thought before I let TvTropes devour my soul - though a casual scan says that page doesn't list any direct Austen entries - there is a Mr. and Mrs. Darcy Mysteries though - actually this is fascinating - but there's no mention of my girl Anne Elliot here - aaaaand TvTropes is devouring my soul again even as I update what I'm doing as I type.
I'm going to assume this extra level of meta-awareness did prevent me from going even further down the rabbit hole.
Anyway!
Readthrough below.
Chapter 25
We're entering an entirely new segment of the story. Last chapter seemed to have wrapped up the Edward saga with a sort of two paragraph conclusion glossing over the aftermath. This chapter we're starting over fresh talking about Mrs. Jennings' personal life.
She insists on inviting the older Miss Dashwoods to her actual home near Portman Square. The Miss Dashwoods of course refuse, but I'm pretty sure this is where the next stage of the story will be set so something is almost certainly going to send them.
"I have had such good luck getting my own children off my hands [...] if I don't get one of you at least well married before I have done with you, it shall not be my fault."
Oh, I think that's the chief motivator of Mrs. Jennings' invitation. And she's very confident too. :'D
"I thought it would be more comfortable for them to be together; because, if they got tired of me, they might talk to one another, and laugh at my old ways behind my back."
Aww, is this chapter going to be a "Mrs. Jennings is a just a sweet lady really" showcase? ... I still wouldn't want to live with her though, I dunno if she'd let me have my social cooldown time.
"Lord bless me! how do you think I can live poking by myself, I who have been always used till this winter to have Charlotte with me."
... oh... she's just going to be lonely... :(
Also, my does she get along well with her son-in-law. She really ribs with Sir John like he is her own son.
Oh! It's London that Mrs. Jennings is taking them too. I was wondering what physical locale "near Portman Square" actually meant. Well, this is the most convenient location for having run-ins with the lads then. Willoughby and Brandon were both called to town on mysterious business weren't they? And Edward might be here too, that February visit with the Steeles that Lucy was so excited for.
Elinor was half-heartedly appealing to the cause of keeping their mother company as reason to turn down the invitation. Mama Dashwood ain't having it though, so they have no reason not to go. Peace and quiet to educate Margaret with everyone gone, and ample time to renovate rooms without disrupting people. Also, Marianne seemed like she kinda wanted to see town, possibly for Willoughby-related reasons. Yep, the Miss Dashwoods aren't getting outta this one.
Oh actually, Marianne really wants to go. Her countenance sunk as soon as Elinor tried to voice one last objection. My mind has immediately drifted to sudden onset of sad puppy look.
Marianne would like to go alone if Elinor won't go; Elinor is... not going to let that happen because as much as Marianne claims to be able to endure Mrs. Jennings' personality right now, in Mrs. Jennings' company it will probably be a bad time for all parties without Elinor also there reigning her in. Well, it doesn't matter anyway because Mama has made up her mind and they are both going.
Mama brings up Edward in a semi-romantic context again, which Elinor has been trying to wean her from for Reasons. Yeah, I get that. Elinor comments that she's perfectly indifferent to everyone else in Eddie's family besides himself. Apparently that's cause for astonishment in the other two? Not sure what that's about. Is she supposed to like the rest of Edward's family such that being indifferent to them is some kind of admittance? Or is it just a very impolite, un-Elinor statement to make?
With any luck, she won't run into Eddie because the trip will be over before February. Haha, this is narrative, there's no chance of that.
Oh no the Miss Steeles are still around. Welp.
Marianne's joy was almost a degree beyond happiness, so great was the perturbation of her spirits and her impatience to be gone.
Oh wow, I seriously underestimated how excited Marianne was to be on this trip. I think the narration was downplaying it earlier in the chapter, so I guess she was really bottling it in while Elinor was still disapproving of the idea. But now that Mama has commanded them to Go Have Fun, the stopper is unstopped. Pure unadulterated Marianne is out to play again! :D
It'll be good to have excited Marianne back! As much as I tend to disapprove of her general thoughts and attitudes, Elinor-style, I do enjoy her silly rom-antics. See what I did there? Haha, actually that simple dumb thought-slash-joke has put me in a more chipper mood than when I started.
Also, sorry this took a while again. I wish I could say that I've been busy, but it's more like I've had trouble managing myself/motivation for the past week. Also, I keep skipping out medication because I get up too late. Isn't it crazy how I get more things I want to do done when I take it, like today. ;>.>
Semester starts again on Monday, so I may start to get actually busier, but provided I don't manage to "lock" myself again the added routine will probably be a positive change.
Previously, Elinor takes some time to think things through, and then decides to have a chat with Lucy about it. Which they are doing, right now, while Marianne plays piano nearby, hopefully loudly and passionately enough that neither she nor also noone else will overhear.
Readthrough below.
Chapter 24
Chat begins! Elinor breaks the ice and reassures Lucy that she has not been offended in any way. That out of the way, they start talking Eddie.
I feel a bit like I'm reading a poker match actually. A lot of poker faces going around and I can't tell who's bluffing or to what exact purpose. I believe Elinor is inviting Lucy to dicuss Edward's fidelity as a fiance, probably to guage how much affection Eddie had felt towards her that Lucy might have noticed. Lucy confesses to being the jealous kind, but firmly asserts her conviction that Edward has not had any faithless thoughts of another person, as surely she would have noticed, given how jealous she is.
I feel like she's bluffing though, or at least, the narrative has been toying enough with the idea that she could be.
Elinor asks Lucy what she'll do about the Mrs. Ferrar's situation, given that Edward is dependent on her inheritance and a marriage to Lucy would throw that into jeopardy; Lucy has no idea for fear of crossing Mrs. Ferrars, apparently of quick temper and conviction. Lucy is really worried for Edward's sake;
"And for your own sake too, or are you carrying your disinterestedness beyond reason."
Lucy looked at Elinor again, and was silent.
Ouch. Lucy wants to appear detached so that it seems she's far more attached to Edward than any promise of the money, but Elinor's gone straight for the mask. Either Lucy is more interested in money than she lets on, or she should be because it would be foolish to be otherwise so detached. Drop the mask, or admit to foolishness. A deadly fork. Lucy can't find her response, implicating the mask.
Point to Elinor, if we were scoring points.
Elinor asks Lucy about Robert Ferrars, the brother.
... what is a coxcomb...?
coxcomb (n.)(archaic) a vain and conceited man; a dandy
My, if this is Robert Ferrars then the pattern of contrastive siblings in this story never stops. Well, I guess we already knew Robert and Edward were at two ends of a spectrum.
Well, though, Anne Steele overhears "coxcomb" and the whole card table chimes in, including Mrs. Jennings, so, whoops. And then, of course, Mrs. Jennings starts talking about Elinor's beau, and Anne Steele starts talking about Lucy's beau, and then starts hinting knowingly that both beaux are the one beau, and oh boy the awkward is palpable, poor girls.
Marianne is entirely immune due to her current condition of being in the throes of deep piano. Really this is not at all an ideal situation for Elinor and Lucy and talk with only piano throes for protection, so I guess they're quite desperate.
Anyway with Marianne for cover, Lucy explains her strategy for Edward to Elinor; have him ordained soon, and then have Elinor persuade her brother John Dashwood to set him up in Norland, where the current... church-person? - I'm unclear on church heirarchical titles - is soon to pass on.
Elinor points out that there's nothing she can say to persuade John Dashwood that could not be said by Edward to his sister Fanny, married to John Dashwood. Fanny would not set him up because Fanny would not approve of Lucy, and we've seen before that they will not really get anything from John without Fanny's approval anyway. So that idea's a bit kaput.
... Lucy sighs and asks Elinor again if she and Eddie should just break up. Elinor again refuses to advise her. She is not impartial enough! But she pretends to be impartial.
"'Tis because you are an indifferent person," said Lucy, with some pique, and laying a particular stress on those words, "that your judgement might justly have such weight with me. If you could be supposed to be biased in any respect by your own feelings, your opinion would not be worth having."
Elinor thought it wisest to make no answer to this,
... it's Elinor's turn to be silent. Something about "said Lucy, with some pique, and laying particular stress on those words," suggests that Lucy knows exactly what she's trying to do. Trying to entrap Elinor in a position maybe: either confirm that she has personal biases, or be forced to start making up potentially flimsy reasons (on the spot) to not give advice.
Dang, actually, that's really good if calculated, and it reads calculated.
Two points Lucy.
"Shall you be in town this winter?" [...]
"Certainly not."
"I am sorry for that," returned the other, while her eyes brightened at the information,
Oh. Lucy... >:(
Pleasant pretenses dropped. The Steeles are going to London over winter, Lucy to see Edward, and happy she is that Elinor will not be there.
for nothing had been said on either side to make them dislike each other less than they had done before;
Geez... o__o
and Elinor sat down to the card table with the melancholy persuasion that Edward was not only without affection from the person who was to be his wife; but that he had not even the chance of being tolerably happy in marriage, which sincere affection on her side would have given, for self-interest alone could induce a woman to keep a man to an engagement, of which she seemed so thoroughly aware that he was weary.
Wow, you got all that? Going back, I can see the subtext but I would not have read any of those conclusions with any confidence myself.
So, insincerety/lack of affection from Lucy: the ease with which she looks for advice on breaking up if the prospects of securing a livelihood are too little.
Self-interest: that "Lucy was silent" moment when Elinor traps her about acting too disinterested in the money.
I guess going the other way, with her silence on giving any breakup advice, Lucy can now basically rest assured that Elinor is basically going to raise no fingers at all to defend her own interest in Edward Ferrars. Welp.
Come to think of it, Elinor already knew the “asking for breakup advice thing” was insincere anyway. She still outmaneuvered though.
So now Elinor no longer wants to talk about this ever again, Lucy wants to talk about it all the time, maybe even to rub Elinor's face in it, and the Steeles stay in Barton Park for like 2 months longer than initially supposed. Poor Elinor.
Welp.
That sure was a chapter, of a singular, very intense discussion. Almost a fight really. Like cold war. No weapons drawn or claws come out or gloves taken off, but definitely... hostile beneath calm surfaces. Lucy and Elinor are definitely not friends, not friends at all. I am admittedly disappointed, because I like friendships, but this will still do. Lucy is very much a conniver and schemer, and probably a little cruel. I guess I shall have to retract my hopes for Lucy being innocently nice...
At some point I think I would like to read a warm love triangle where everything works out positively and agreeably from beginning to end. Well, I already have, so I guess this is just more a general statement that like the positive ones more than the hostile ones.
Previously, poor Elinor... four years... poor Elinor... four years...
Having given it a little thought, it occured to me that the twist from last chapter worked extremely well for something that I would have expected to occur narratively anyway. And I have complete certainty that it's because the twist went completely overboard by a shocking, twisty margin. Four years!
That's definitely something I'm keeping very close in consideration. Noted, circled and underlined. Just because the basic element of your narrative twist may be heavily foreshadowed or just predictable, doesn't mean the whole part of it has to be. There can and probably should be more than one layer of twist to your twist.
In fact, isn't this a form of misdirection in itself? Put people at ease with something that could be interpreted as simple, then throw something else out from behind it. Wait, now I'm just describing the basic element of a twist... a general principle of playing with expectations... Hmm, anyway!
Readthrough below.
Chapter 23
HOWEVER SMALL Elinor's general dependence on Lucy's veracity might be, it was impossible for her on serious reflection to suspect it in the present case,
IN THE PRESENT CASE? WHAT IS THAT SUPPOSED TO MEAN MS. AUSTEN? Is this just a general statement about her unwillingness to question anything right in this moment? Or is it also a foreboding statement that Lucy's word will not be trustworthy in the future? Ms. Austen are you deliberately toying with me? D:
Elinor embarks aboard a long train of thought. The facts as presently established are thus:
There is altogether too much evidence of Lucy's claims being truthful; ergo they are engaged and all evidence presented is true.
She wasn't alone in believing Edward held feelings for her. Her family (supportive) and his sister (unsupportive) both acknowledged the case, so it's not any personal delusion or her own, or positive bias on the part of her family.
Trying to reconcile those two premises, she can draw various possible solutions that might satisfy both:
Eddie has been deliberately playing with her heart. :(
Eddie has unintentionally and hopelessly succumbed to Elinor's affection. :?
Eddie's engagement with Lucy was going nowhere to begin with. :/
I'm personally gonna float a fourth possibility, that Edward forgot Lucy Steele existed until she returned to his life recently to get him to fulfill his engagement promise, and now he's in a pickle. Not going easy on him though, the only scenario in which he doesn’t bear a significant burden of responsibility in this mess is the one where, iunno, Lucy’s been blackmailing him the whole time or something.
The youthful infatuation of nineteen would naturally blind him to everything but her beauty and good nature; but the four succeeding years [...] must have opened his eyes to her defects
Oh, so is this why Mr. Palmer was introduced with the following (lemme dig it up) line?
His temper might perhaps be a little soured by finding, like many of others of his sex, that through some unaccountable bias towards beauty, he was the husband of a very silly woman - but she knew this kind of blunder was too common for any sensible man to be lastingly hurt by it.
When I was reading it I thought it was coming uncharacteristically close to laying a man's responsbility over his own emotions at the feet of his wife instead (even if Mr. Palmer was immediately following diagnosed with class angst instead). I suppose the real purpose of this line would be to prep the reader, so that the possibility of hasty engagements on Edward's part seem reasonably expected, and also to, well, suggest at the possible result of such a hasty, valueless engagement being followed through?
I know there’s a Pride and Prejudice and Zombies, is there a Sense and Sensibility and Alternate Timelines?
Well, either way, I'm given to conclude that the Palmer chapter really does a lot more to set up pacing and expectations than I give it credit for. Though I still don’t think I like these particular expectations very much.
Also, Elinor, as mature as you project yourself to be, you think these thoughts of foolhardy youth as though you're not also presently nineteen right now. :'D
Also geez, you're really picking on Lucy hard for her lack of education, which has so far been presented much more a lack of opportunity than anything else. I noticed while reading the Other Stories in Susan and Stories that many of the protagonists were definitely a little on the not-like-other-girls side of the spectrum. I always love when education is valued, but it does make me uncomfortable when I see it presented as though a virtue in itself, rather than the product of opportunity and environment.
I'm still holding out on general judgement of Lucy as I haven't really felt like I've been introduced to her outside of Elinor's lens. There's a sort of tell vs. show element to reliability of information in the narrative voice I've been sitting on; one where I've been told a lot about Lucy from Elinor's feelings and thoughts (that she's artful or selfish), but I haven't actually seen Lucy behave in any way I would interpret as more than some level of insensitive.
It's really hard for me to get a read on Lucy or Edward. Unlike with Willoughby or Brandon, their actions as depicted do not immediately align with evaluations of their character made by the Dashwood sisters. Lucy has been very little shown to have done anything to earn Elinor's harsher assessments of her character (except insensitivity). Edward, I don't even know what about him I can take at any sort of face value except that he's ambitionless.
As these considerations occured to her in painful succession, she wept for him, more than for herself.
Oh, Elinor... She's worried about how Edward must feel, that his family could possibly support his engagement to Lucy when she is in a worse position than Elinor in every regard.
Supported by the conviction of having done nothing to merit her present unhappiness,
Oh, Elinor... she's rationalised away her natural freedom to be unhappy for unhappiness' sake. And she puts the mask back on. No telling her family. She will take this burden on very alone indeed.
It'll have to be up to Marianne to save her, on the day that Marianne finally throws a fit over Edward's mysterious lack of flirting. Oh, and what about their little moment chapters back where they shared a joke over Willoughby? Oh it will hurt if they ever have a real confrontation... :(
and that Marianne was internally dwelling on the perfections of a man, of whose whole heart she felt thoroughly possessed,
oH NO! Well if you're going to say that! If Edward was four years engaged then what's Willoughby going to have been? Secretly married ten years?? I forgot Marianne is still pining hard. Wait what's even going to happen when Edward and Willoughby meet as promised?
"Hi, I'm not marrying a Dashwood sister."
"Hi, it turns out I'm also not marrying a Dashwood sister."
"What was the purpose of our meeting again?"
"Breaking Dashwood hearts solidarity?"
What is even happening? Please come back Brandon, at least your secret daughter can't break hearts. Also because you can't break hearts in general because noone loves you. Wait, ouch. Sorry. Also because your daughter might become friends with Margaret!
Oh Elinor, she's also justifiably disinclined to tell her family anything anyway because she knows they'll make a gigantic deal out of it, and probably Say Things that she doesn't want to hear. I mean, almost certainly Eddie has done you dirty here Elinor, if at bare minimum through negligence in communication. He's gonna deserve some of that tongue lashing.
Well, now that Elinor has come to terms with her situation, she has new objectives. To talk to Lucy again, and in doing so:
Discover the true depth of Lucy's feelings for Edward
Estimate Edward's regard for herself by gauging Lucy's jealousy towards her (HA!)
Convince Lucy somehow that no, she was never interested in Edward, haha, what a funny joke, I am not hurt or in pain at all. Didn't have a minor breakdown in front of you yesterday, nope. Perfectly fine, no feelings here.
Ah yes, the "What doesn't kill me NEVER HAPPENED" approach. Maybe in a couple of years she might even manage to convince herself she had never loved Edward at all, or indeed, anyone ever?
Apparently for all of Sir Middleton's parties, it can be surprisingly hard to get one-on-one time. Yeah, I get that. It takes Elinor some time before she can speak to Lucy privately again: at a party Sir Middleton arranged but is not attending. Heh.
"Insipidity." That was a word I wanted for the past few days but could only remember "vapid." Also wow, the narrative is pulling no punches over how insipid, boring and generally valueless this gathering and it's conversations are. Elinor's usually polite about things but internally she has no patience anymore. She needs to talk to Lucy and everything about this party is very much Getting In The Way.
So some party shenanigans happen and Lady Middleton is very easily manipulated as usual through appeals to her motherhood, to provide space for Lucy and Elinor to talk. Lucy is trying so hard to finish a basket for little Annamaria before tomorrow you see, and Oh! It is so much work, surely Elinor needs to help her! Works like a charm, Lady Middleton lets them out of card games and leaves them right alone to chat at a worktable.
Marianne just up and ditches Lady Middleton for the piano haha, with all the grace and tact of... iunno, Marianne I guess. Zero subtlety. "I hate cards, piano time starts now." Narrative says she's lost in her own thoughts and emotions while playing, I choose to interpret that as "angrily and noisily."
But it provides the appropriate background noise cover for Elinor and Lucy to talk with some approximation of privacy, which seems to follow directly in the next chapter.
Well, this has been a chapter devoted to Elinor's processing of... last chapter. Considering the weight of some such revelations, yeah, there was a lot for Elinor to process.
I feel as though I could go on to make some observations on the differences between Elinor and Marianne's approaches to processing heartbreak, but, they're just so... comically and wholly contrastive I wouldn't know where to begin except in broad terms. Marianne lets it all out, expressing her internal turmoil to almost performative levels and with complete emotional conviction. Elinor suppresses everything she can't rationalise away, and she tries to rationalise away everything, up to and including her own personal right to be upset.
Also it seems unusual to have a chapter immediately succeed from the events of the previous chapter as the next one does, so I imagine the hits aren't slowing yet. No idea what else could come out right now though.
Hubris is defined as not taking your medication for the week and assuming you'd still have a productive time. It's only 5pm Wednesday so it's not too late to humble myself.
Previously, the Miss Steeles were introduced. The older is very much into beaux, and the younger is very often socially mortified by the former. Elinor is disapproves, but, they mysteriously know Eddie Ferrars, so perhaps she will have to put up with them until they give up the goods.
Not that her opinion matters too greatly when Sir Middleton never runs out of social plans. :'D
Also, thank you for telling me beaux is plural of beau!
Commenting from after having read the chapter: Oh, Elinor...
Readthrough below.
Chapter 22
MARIANNE, WHO never had much tolerance for anything like [...]
And this first sentence goes the whole first paragraph for a whopping 11 lines! It's not exclusively about Marianne's intolerances but there's still quite a lot of that. The second half is about how the Steele sisters prefer Elinor because Marianne is just that standoffish with them but I wonder if there's a literary purpose to cramming all that information into one sentence? It's certainly taxing to get my mind around, though I'm not really sure that's reflective of the Steeles when it's partially about Marianne. Perhaps all parties are exhausting?
In Lucy Steele, the younger sister, Elinor finds a companion of natural wit and intelligence, but lacking in any formal education; though I assume by "illiterate" Austen means that Lucy is simply not versed in literature, as opposed to outright illiterate.
She still doesn't like her.
Seems she also finds Lucy to be flippant and lacking any consistency of opinion, and maybe also attention-seeky. Also that they can't really talk about anything interesting to Elinor as she's not educated enough to share any tastes. That's... a shame that Elinor takes this stance. She reads Lucy's constant flattery of everything as insincerety but I don't have any reason not to think Lucy is just a genuinely positive person about everything. Personally, I would call nearabouts everyone I meet really nice, but that doesn't mean I don't think it's true! As you can see as I try to defy the interpretations of almost every character that has been described unflatteringly by the Dashwood sisters. :'D
Except Mr. Palmer, I have no good interpretations of Mr. Palmer.
Also, just because she's not formally educated doesn't mean she can't be fun to talk to! Engage people on their interests Elinor, not just your personal tastes! Well, I say all this but it's not as though I always live up to my ideal of open sociability.
Lucy asks Elinor if she knows Mrs. Ferrars, Eddie's mother. Elinor is reticent to reveal that she thinks his mother is uh, controlling, but does I think truthfully respond that she's never met the lady in person.
Elinor replies without explicit dialogue a lot, which in the Dashwood sisters I've started to take as signifying instances where not merely do they have nothing interesting to say for the reader to read, but also that they are not invested enough in their conversation partner enough to give a proper reply. Elinor does this a little bit here to Lucy, until, that is, Lucy really catches her interest. Now it's ALL DIALOGUE.
See, Lucy really genuinely wants to know about Mrs. Ferrars, surprising Elinor indeed, who's still hung up on the question of how the Steeles are connected to the Ferrars.
"But if I dared not tell you all, you would not be so much surprised. Mrs. Ferrars is certainly nothing to me at present - but the time may come - how soon it will come must depend upon herself - when we may be very intimately connected."
Oh. Oooooohhhh no. Oooooooh boy. Hmm. Yes. Well. I remember Eddie has a more successful (younger?) brother, but I feel like this isn't a fake-out just to give Elinor a heart attack and then move on. Somebody familiar with Austen and queer readings correct me on this, but I also don't see the remote possibility that this is implying Miss Steele is hooking up with Eddie's mother. So.........
I'm sitting here having not turned to the next page yet. Good heavens! indeed, Elinor.
"No," replied Lucy, "not to Mr. Robert Ferrars - I never saw him in my life; but," fixing her eyes upon Elinor, "to his eldest brother."
T-there it is. And Eddie has the hair ring too, doesn't sound one-sided... could still be parental setup, but Lucy apparently doesn't know nearly enough about Mrs. Ferrars...
What Elinor felt at that moment? Astonishment, that would have been as painful as it was strong, had not an immediate disbelief of assertion attended it.
Oh no. As painful as it is strong? Poor Elinor, that's going to hurt when the shock wears off...
A moment of silence for Elinor before I continue, which I'm going to take a short walk on.
So Elinor's... outwardly taking it well. Lucy continues her explanation.
FOUR YEARS.
FOUR YEARS.
LUCY AND EDDIE HAVE BEEN ENGAGED FOUR YEARS.
EDWARD AND LUCY HAVE KEPT THEIR ENGAGEMENT A SECRET FOR FOUR YEARS.
"May I ask if your engagement is long standing?"
"We have been engaged these four years."
FOUR YEARS.
ELINOR NEVER HAD A CHANCE.
"I know he has the highest opinion in the world of all your family, and looks upon yourself and the other Miss Dashwoods quite as his own sisters -"
SHE WAS JUST A FRIEND. SHE WAS JUST A F R I E N D.
S H E W A S L I K E A S I S T E R T O H I M.
Alright. Well I needed to process that a bit too.
See, it's one thing for me to expect that Eddie was already engaged to somebody else. I would've been ready for that. Maybe he just moved on after Elinor was gone or something. I would've been like "yep, yeah that was expected." But FOUR YEARS. HE WAS ALREADY ENGAGED FOUR YEARS AGO.
How does this recontextualise the earlier parts of the novel? It was a hundred pages ago I don't even remember! Was this all the Dashwoods' imaginations? Am I going to go back and find out the narrative very specifically refused to state anything except that the Dashwoods thought this to be the case? Was Edward leading Elinor along the whole time? Did he know?? He seemed to be feeling guilt or shame or something so he must know about Elinor's feelings right??? AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
ANyway.
So it's been a secret the whole time. Of Lucy's family only Anne Steele knows, and considering Edward I imagine literally nobody knows in general. Lucy and Edward have known each other for many years, ever since Edward stayed with her uncle Mr. Pratt, whom I don't recall coming up at all before but I wouldn't be surprised if he was name-dropped once in the beginning. Edward is so reticent about himself that Elinor barely knows/remembers anything about Mr. Pratt's existence.
I'm taking these quotes thoroughly out of order because I have been knocked out of order, but I want to highlight this;
Her astonishment at what she heard was at first too great for words; but at length forcing herself to speak, and to speak cautiously, she said, with calmness of manner, which tolerably well concealed her surprise and solicitude:
The forced calm, trying to suppress the adrenaline early, trying to keep up the mask of the disaffected. It was obvious enough that Lucy noticed and stopped mid-sentence to wait for her. Oh Elinor. How fast is her heart beating? Where has her breath gone? And "tolerably well concealed" is not "concealed." She's speaking slowly and carefully, before she's even calmed down. How much shakiness is still audible in her words? How taut has each syllable been stretched, to maintain control? Where was the misplaced pause, a necessity to find the next word?
"May- may I ask if your engagement has been long standing?"
"May I ask if your engagement has been long- long standing?"
"May I ask if your engagement has been longstanding?"
Anyway.
Elinor's in either the denial stage or the bargaining stage. Well it's a lot to spring on her, we can't all have omniescent narrative security from beyond the fourth wall.
"Though you do not know him so well as me, Miss Dashwood, you must have seen enough of him to be sensible he is very capable of making a woman sincerely attached to him."
“Certainly," answered Elinor, without knowing what she said;
PFFHAHA. Well, Elinor's composure is well and truly gone. If there's one positive thing that might come out of love triangles (positive negotiation sort, not toxic rivalry) it would be the sincere solidarity over the best qualities of the subject of their competitive affections. Though it doesn't seem like Elinor is disposed to be friends with Lucy, sadly...
I think Lucy just wants to be friends, but, uh, well. On the one hand I don't know how sensitive she's being right now really but on the other hand, I dunno how you can sensitively break it to someone that their crush has actually been your fiance for FOUR YEARS. Like, if Eddie knew, this is something he shoulda nipped in the bud long ago.
I think I've already spent an hour trying to process everything here.
The secrecy of the engagement makes sense too. I don't think Eddie's mother would ever have approved of any engagement without thorough vetting of the suitor's prospects. A secret youthful engagement must therefore remain very secret. No wonder Lucy's so concerned about Mrs. Ferrars now, too. And Eddie's only known the Dashwoods with the context of his sister hovering nearby, just ready to be generally Fanny. If information about Lucy had gotten out to Marianne that would already be a risk, but there was MARGARET too, and that sure worked out for Elinor. No wonder the Dashwoods heard nothing.
...
Elinor could tank this if she leaked the engagement. Please don't do that Elinor, it- oh no. Elinor won't do that. What if Marianne does it on Elinor's behalf? Oh no oh no. I hope that doesn't happen. Lucy's a nice girl. :(
Come to think of it, as far as underhanded deals go, there is a possibility that Lucy is actually faking this information, knowing that Elinor is interested in Edward, in order to drive her away. That... wouldn't be the case would it...? But he does have the hair ring... It's not like she pressed her into an engagement right...? AM I BARGAINING ON ELINOR'S BEHALF?
Lucy demonstrably proves she's talking about Edward Ferrars and nobody else by showing Elinor a picture of her beau. A thought, considering how much Edward has spoken to Lucy of the Dashwoods, no wonder she was so keen to meet them.
And Lucy is so happy to be able to confide in Elinor because she has noone else besides Anne, who is understandably a liablity in terms of secrecy, and gives poor advice in general. How fortunate to have somebody so level-headed as Elinor! Edward's name coming up at all from Sir Middleton did mortify her at the possibility of beans being spilled. Lucy is so stressed that the secrecy is such that she barely gets to see Edward at all, and never knows what will be of her future. Please Lucy, you know the context of Edward's being mentioned at all, spare a thought for Elinor. :(
Here she took out her handkerchief; but Elinor did not feel very compassionate.
... Yeah.
"Sometimes," continued Lucy, after wiping her eyes, "I think whether it would not be better for us both to break off the matter entirely. [...] What would you advise me to do in such a case, Miss Dashwood?"
Uh. Wrong person to ask. Elinor sure thinks so too. Ah but Lucy even explains why he's been despirited. So it's not as much any guilt or shame so much as stress about his future with Lucy. It does also explain him leaving in a hurry with no explanation, anything related to Lucy would have no explanation given.
And Lucy shows Elinor a letter sent to her by Edward; now all doubts are cleared. She also explains that the hair-set ring is hers, asking her if she had seen it;
"I did," said Elinor, with a composure of voice, under which was concealed an emotion and distress beyond anything she had ever felt before."
After sitting with them a few minutes, the Miss Steeles returned to the Park, and Elinor was at liberty to think and be wretched.
Poor Elinor. "at liberty to think and be wretched" is also a very nice line to end a chapter on. I've definitely felt that before too.
Well.
This chapter. A lot happened here. What's Marianne going to find out next about Willoughby when the Palmers return?? We still don't know about Brandon's daughter!!
I understand now too why the chapter with the Palmers got sandwiched between the preceding chapters and the introduction of the Steeles, and why the transition seemed strangely long. The lack of information lulls a false sense of security, and also it's a small buffer in the pacing to not immediately just, roll reveals onto the reader.
I can think of Lucy as nothing but earnest at least, though, quite insensitive to Elinor's feelings in a way that should have been obvious. Umm. I don't know what to say or think about Edward right now. He's barely appeared really, I can't get a read on him. Floating the idea at the end that Lucy is not secure in her engagement, and also that it could be easily broken by the secret getting out, does... leave the whole consequences of this reveal up in the air really. It's thoroughly within Elinor's power to break them up, but...
Ah, my minds a bit overloaded now and I've gone way overtime so I'll leave the rest to consider next time after I've digested it a bit.
Previously, Mr. Palmer was a bad. Yep. Just a bad. Mrs. Palmer knows Willoughby and has seen Brandon recently, but not much came out of it.
Also, Happy Valentines day, ya filthy animals, and a happy (lunar) new yea-actually I just rewatched that scene from Home Alone 2 and I kinda don’t like it anymore. I just don’t like the idea of guns. Also it feels a lot more contrived now than when I was 10. Also a tad homophobic? I guess I might retire wishing people a good holiday and new year vis a vis calling them filthy animals.
I hope all you romantics are having a better time of it than the poor Dashwoods thus far!
Readthrough below.
Chapter 21
The Palmers have gone home to Cleveland.
But this did not last long; Elinor had hardly got their last visitors out of her head, had hardly done wondering at [...]
This sentence stretches out for eight lines, so Elinor has an excessive amount to think about the Palmers of, before new guests arrive.
Mrs. Jennings "discovers" she has two more relatives in Exeter, two Miss Steeles, who obviously Sir M invites to the next social occasion. Being, immediately. Poor Lady M, has to worry about more surprise strangers for guests. She still likes the new girls though, apparently they're good with kids. That'll earn the Lady M points.
And also obviously Sir M has got to involve the Dashwoods in this too. I don't blame the Dashwoods for ditching, this must be really exhausting. Sir M is the ultimate extrovert. I also forgot that the Dashwoods were related to him.
It's just a random thought, but everyone is in agreement that the Dashwood sisters are very pretty/handsome/beautiful. Well, except for Mr. Palmer, but he is stubbornly contrarian in general and I wouldn't trust him to even like the pure concept of happiness. I wonder how that is? I've never thought of any of my friends as beautiful, despite that I feel like they are on principle, and for lack of any dissenting opinion. Does that mean the Dashwoods are exceptional, or is that sort of aesthetic thought common for the time, or am I personally missing something about people?
Oh dear lord the children are actually just bullying the guests. Of course.
She saw their sashes untied, their hair pulled about their ears, their workbags searched, and their knives and scissors stolen away, and felt no doubt of its being a reciprocal enjoyment.
P-Please Lady M, have mercy on the Miss Steeles. So it's not that the girls are good with kids, it's just they they're really good at pretending this is okay to their host. This reminds me of the time a bunch of gifted and talented tweens tied my shoelaces together and tried to take snips of my hair for "DNA samples." Fun day. Those kids are like 20 now, I wonder how they're doing?
With such a reward for her tears, the child was too wise to cease crying.
HAHA! This is also another of the neat little spins that get lost in adaptation huh. Unless pains were taken to preserve this, on screen it would just be a scene where the child kept crying as they were being pampered. But here the single lines changes the whole character of the scene.
Regardless, remedying her youngest does produce a reason for Lady M and her children to exit stage, leaving the Dashwoods room and quiet to speak with the new girls alone.
The girls are still talking up the Middletons, so seeing as Marianne can't withold her true feelings for the sake of politeness, Elinor carries the weight of the talking. Which isn't much, really short awkward impasse on the quality of rowdiness in children.
beaux
I-what? One of the Steele sister has started talking about beauxs. I'm relieved that Elinor is as confused as I am on what a beaux with an x is. Elinor even uses it without an x, so I personally feel vindicated, though this implies that the x in beaux isn't silent when Miss Steele says it. Be-owks?
"Lord! Anne," cried her sister, "you can talk of nothing but beaux - you will make Miss Dashwood believe you think of nothing else."
Too late, Elinor has already written them off in her mind. I'd comment something or other about writing people off but honestly I'd be exhausted of all these strangers too.
Alas for Elinor and Marianne this feeling is not mutual and they are very much on the awkward end of, alas, unrequited friendship. How was everybody's Valentines day, by the way? I spent some time playing around with a piano. Turns out you can close your eyes and hammer anything on the major blues scale and it'll come out sounding sassy. :D
Anyway, to aid the Steeles in their quest for friendship, it seems Sir Middleton has armed the girls with every piece of gossip he knows or assumes of the Dashwoods. Whoop. So now they too know every about every brief brush with romance the Dashwoods have had.
The letter F- had been likewise invariably brought forward, and found productive of such countless jokes, that its character as the wittiest letter of the alphabet had long been established with Elinor.
Heheh, well, that'll happen. Ah, but it's even spread to the Steeles. Poor Elinor. Sir Middleton spills the beans nigh-immediately, while telling the girls not to blab about this "great secret."
Hrk. That's giving me personal flashbacks which I suppose I won't expand on, on pain of irony.
Buuuut it does reveal that the Steele sisters are apparently quite familiar with Edward Ferrars! Perhaps they can tell us why- oh, nope, nup. They also say basically nothing of substance, and Elinor is too reserved to interrupt them or ask questions. Well, it would probably seem really awkwardly eager too, to suddenly ask after the person you're probably deliberately trying to keep a social veil of plausible deniability up around.
And that's it for this chapter! So between this and last chapter, nothing immediate seems to have occured, but we've been introduced to the Palmers who know Willoughby and Brandon, and the Steeles, who know Eddie. If I had to guess I would hazard that this getting the setup out of the way for some sort of convergence of information later? The sort where the house of cards collapses, probably something that'll rattle Elinor something real shook. I feel like there's a shoe waiting to drop pretty hard with Eddie.
Sir Middleton is probably has a time bomb of a party in the works, if it would take gathering all these families in one place.
Previously, I think it was a transitory chapter. Eddie makes himself leave the Dashwoods after a week for no outwardly discernible reason, and the Middletons arrive to introduce the Palmers; with Mrs. Jennings, Lady Middleton and Mrs. Palmer forming a rather similar dynamic to Mama, Elinor and Marianne.
I wonder if the Jennings also have a Margaret?
Readthrough below.
Chapter 20
Dashwoods go to see the Palmers for social occasion, Mrs Palmer is most welcoming and also insists on hosting them in London should they wish to go. It's amusing that the narrative glosses over the Dashwood's rejections. Don't need to see it again.
"Such weather makes everything and everybody disgusting. [...] Sir John is as stupid as the weather."
W-wow. Ignores his wife and insults his host, all over some rain and a lack of billiard room. Mr. Palmer is... unpleasant. At least Sir John is probably more than capable of shrugging this stuff off.
Well, he only just arrived so I guess he didn't hear it.
"As vile a spot as I ever saw in my life," said Mr. Palmer.
W-wow. This is regarding Willoughby's place in the country, wherever that is. Mr. Palmer is... sure is a character. I wonder if he's based on anyone Jane Austen knew?
HE JUST CALLED HIS WIFE'S MOTHER ILL-BRED over not needing serious formality. What is your issue, man? The Jennings women take it really well and seem to treat it like some kind of banter but dear lord. Dump this man, Charlotte Jennings, he don't deserve you.
Elinor diagnoses his perpetual butthurt as middle-class inferiority-superiority complex. Yeah sounds about right.
Mrs. Palmer still wants the Dashwoods to visit her in Cleveland over Christmas.
They both eagerly and resolutely declined her invitation.
Yeah the Dashwoods really aren't gonna say anything with dialogue this chapter; it occurs to me now looking back that there are more explicit references to Marianne responding to questions by saying nothing, and in another instance by remaining perfectly silent. Really hammers home that the Dashwoods would rather not be here.
"But poor fellow! it is very fatiguing to him! for he is forced to make everybody like him!"
Elinor could hardly keep her countenance as she assented to the hardship of such an obligation.
Same. :'D
This man is running for Parliament? I'm already tired of him. I wonder if Austen is making some kind of point by making Mrs. Palmer as seemingly oblivious to his general attitude as she is? He ignores her half the day and only speaks to be condescending. Elinor pretends to find him agreeable.
Elinor tries to ask her about Willoughby to get her to stop incessantly inviting them over to stay. Turns out she uses a lot of words to say she knows nothing useful about Willoughby, but HAS SPOKEN TO COLONEL BRANDON ON MONDAY. HUZZAH! IT HAS BEEN 10 CHAPTERS! Prithee good lady, what news of Brandon?
Apparently he's been well and that's roughly it. Oh well. Similarly, information on Willoughby is that apparently he was well-admired, but it's not very substantial information. Apparently the Middletones once tried to set up Charlotte with Brandon before she married Mr. Palmer? But I don't even know how relevant that information is when it was done without Brandon's knowledge to a woman he'd only seen twice at the time.
I wonder what exactly happened in this chapter? I'm not clear on what I should take into the next, except that Mr. Palmer seems unpleasant. Guess I'll see.
I did notice now though that the Dashwoods had zero dialogue up until Elinor starts speaking with Mrs. Palmer in private (though amusingly going back to not using dialogue when the topic is Mr. Palmer or invitations to Cleveland). It really makes a point of what the Dashwoods want to be discussing.
Previously, a tense conversation occurred between Eddie and sisters, regarding a mysterious ring and the hair laid within it that is almost certainly not Elinor's. Eddie hears about Willoughby, and bonds with Marianne over a small joke, which was lovely.
Long chapter and I've been sleep deprived so I ended up spending two sessions on it. New characters this time though!
Readthrough below.
Chapter 19
Oh Eddie is leaving? Just like that? I had thought we would see him in more of Sir Middleton's parties. Instead he regrettably only stays a week before he must go, and we kinda skip over the week; though at least we can know that he greatly loved his week with the Dashwoods.
He doesn't even have a clear idea where he's supposed to be going, and the week-limit on his stay seems basically arbitrary. Elinor chalks it up his controlling mother placing arbitrary restrictions on him. I can see it.
it was happy for her that he had a mother whose character was so imperfectly known to her, so as to be the general excuse for everything strange on the part of her son.
Never mind, the narrative is pretty explicitly undercutting her confidence. Her natural skepticism is really failing her in all manners related to Edward Ferrars.
Aha, and the narrative pointed that out explicitly too just now. Benefit of the doubt she's extending freely to Eddie now was, in the narrator's own words "painfully extorted from her" by her mother to apply to Willoughby.
Mama Dashwood suggests to Eddie that perhaps he should find a profession, if only so to have some direction in his seemingly aimless life. He refutes her suggestion with about 30x more words explaining pre-formulated rebuttals that he's long been sitting on, about why he hasn't been fit for any profession. It ends on him proclaiming to be an idle college student. I can't believe this trope is at least 200 years old!
It's also a life I'm uncomfortably living, so despite my broad disapproval of his general statements and situation, it does hit unsettlingly close to home.
Mama Dashwood makes some insightful statements about the cycle of parenting that arises from unfulfilled living. Eddie remains quite pessimistically depressed about his present and future. Mmmm it makes me feel uncomfortable. I dislike Eddie because I see many of my own most frustrating elements reflected in him. I end up excusing myself a lot these days on grounds related to mental health; the narrative treating Edward Ferrar's situation with utmost neutrality feels like in invitation for me to extend to him the same slack I tend to cut myself, but rather than make Edward feel more sympathetic, it just makes me feel more insecure.
Maybe I could rephrase it and say that Eddie's self-rationalisation makes a very enticing target for my own self-loathing, which had been previously buried in only a shallow grave and which has now been invited to resurrect.
Anyway, Edward presently leaves, and Elinor is left both sad and confused. Unlike Marianne, she buries and masks that sadness as deeply possible. Looks like she's also the type who channels stress into work. (Marianne has trouble reconciling this.) She is still in turmoil all the same though. Can't stop thinking about Eddie and also what his deal was.
Hehe, it's a new day and Sir Middleton has arrived with a veritable party behind him. And he's just gone off and ignored the door to speak to Elinor through the window right next to the door. Silly bugger full of character, and I like the unusual scene he's invited. And Mrs. Jennings, love her dialogue as usual, the gossip- Anyway it appears they're introducing their relatives, the Palmers, for no more particular reason than that the Palmers having come to visit the village.
They seem to be two more personalities, giving me the sense that they don't have much direct consequence as individuals. Which I think means they're about to bring news.
This is a frightfully chaotic cross-room dialogue; Mrs. Palmer is very much a second Mrs. Jennings. I feel about as lost following it as I suspect Elinor is. Mrs. Palmer suddenly spots the drawings hung around the room and starts exulting them like Marianne do- wait a minute.
Mrs. P is Lady M's sister. Are... are they just... older counterparts to Marianne and Elinor? I feel like there's a deliberate comparison being made here that I'm not fully grasping the ramifications of. Like, in the context of the Dashwood sisters' romantic prospects, what does it say about the Jennings sisters that their husbands are very much their opposites? We all know Sir M's personality, and Mr. Palmer is the veritable extreme of Edward Ferrars married to the Marianne-counterpart sister. Man just let his only observation of a presumably nice room be "crooked ceiling." This isn't foreshadowing is it?
Mrs. Palmer is even the one similar to Mrs. Jennings the way Marianne is the similar one to Mama Dashwood... anyway.
The Dashwood sisters are pressed into another party for tomorrow, poor girls are socialed out. Guess we'll be seeing what gossip Mrs. Palmer brings from London. This is another chapter that's given me the sense of transitory; I wonder if by indentifying them I could be able to divide S&S into distinct multi-chapter arcs?
Past two weeks have been... rough isn't the right word, that implies a specific level of hardship. Mismanaged implies that I made management decisions at all. I think "thoroughly paralyzing" and "difficult to manage" were what it was. If I ever mention emails in the preamble again you can be sure there's a 50% chance I'm imminently falling apart and disappearing for a while under the pressure. I still haven't conquered them at the time of writing this, but I've made some progress..
Over the weekend two sets of friends dragged me out, so that's helped a lot in resetting my mind to a less frozen space. I got to see a bird art exhibit and pick up a friendly kitty! I have no idea where yesterday went but I finished DDLC the day before, which was fun and I'd like to write something about.
This week's looking better.
Anyway! Previously, Edward Ferrars has returned, and makes his greatest spoken appearance thus far with all the sisters; and in the comfort of their familiar company he sounds very much at ease and how Elinor would refer to as "as himself." It's very sweet, but it also sounds like he's nursing something broody underneath it all.
Geez it's been almost two weeks.
It took me a good four hours today to get back into reading again, but I'm glad I did. This chapter was so sweet, and I feel like it's helping me get my life rolling again.
Readthrough below.
Chapter 18
Edward Ferrars is doing a good impression of me during social outings. Poor Elinor, he's so despirited she's not able to even read if he still loves her/wants to see her;
and the reservedness of his manner towards her contradicted one moment what a more animated look had intimated the preceding one.
Another for the nice line stack. I really know the feeling though; that you should or even are genuinely happy to be there but something weighs on you in a way that whatever you should naturally feel gets swallowed. Like happiness is a poor signal being intermittently obscured by static and noise. And other people can pick it up easily even if they don't know the cause; poor Elinor is feeling insecure right now being made to guess what it could be.
Edward's behaving oddly, not just in Marianne's opinion but in mine as well I think. Or at least, very detachedly. He skips breakfast with Elinor to go a walk around town to admire the scenery; I have to pause my train of thought for this actually:
"I shall call hills steep, which ought to be bold; surfaces strange and uncouth, which out to be irregular and rugged; and distant objects out of sight, which ought only to be indistinct through the soft medium of hazy atmosphere. [...] I call it a very fine country - the hills are steep, the woods seem full of fine timber, and the valley looks comfortable and snug - [...] I can easily believe it to be full of rocks and promontories, grey moss and brush wood, but these are all lost on me."
When Marianne tries to press Edward for the details of his aethstic opinion after his walk, he gets pre-emptively defensive over his inability to meet her standards of aesthetic appreciation. Asides from illustrating that Edward knows how to describe what he lacks, it's really helpful to me for being an incredibly easy to reference breakdown on the difference between observations made from aesthetics versus utility.
Steep hills, out of sight objects, comfort and resource presence are all practical concerns. Meanwhile, uncouth surfaces imply personality, a hazy distant skyline adds atmosphere, promontories are dramatic and grey moss and brush wood are appealing visual details. I haven't really stopped thinking about narrative voice, so I'm suddenly struck wondering about a detective/reporter dynamic where two characters cover the same scene but one is practical and the other is poetic, and seeing the difference... Well it's probably been done and I should nix this train of thought before it takes me interstate.
Amusingly, Elinor undercuts her beau by explaining to Marianne that Edward is not nearly as exclusively utilitarian-minded as he acts... he just masks the latent poetry within his soul because he holds a slight reactionary bias against aesthetics, because he finds some aesthetic appreciators to be fake and pretentious. Oh dear. :'D
Fortunately for Edward, Marianne agrees that florid language has been done to death. Unfortunately for Elinor, Edward refutes her claim that he has any hidden poetic appeal. He goes as far as to use language like "crooked, twisted, blasted trees" while doing so too, which, I think we can all agree it's a waste that he doesn't employ them more often. :'D
Marianne looked with amazement at Edward, with compassion at her sister. Elinor only laughed.
Same. :'D
Oh, oh no.
Next paragraph Marianne spots that Edward has a new ring and blurts out the observation for a conversation topic. Oh no, no that can't be any kind of good in general. A surprise new ring? In a romance novel? Murder! Bloody murder! It's like finding a bloody handprint in a murder mystery; Edward what have you done??
I might be having a little trouble following what comes now though. So there's a hair inlaid in the ring (what is it with people keeping each other's hair?), which Marianne asks if it's Fanny's. The hair's not the right colour to be Fanny's, but Edward makes an excuse while glancing (guiltily?) at Elinor. So now, both sisters think it's Elinor's hair, and he's lying about the source because he's embarassed? Marianne thinks it Elinor gave to him, but Elinor thinks he secretly stole it from her?
I think that's what happened?
Elinor doesn't even like... particularly mind that her hair might have been stolen to make a ring.
That hair is definitely not Elinor's though, which I think she will mind.
[Elinor] internally resolved henceforward to catch every opportunity of eyeing the hair and satisfying, beyond all doubt, that it was exactly the same as her own. [...] how little offense it had given to [Elinor].
Elinor's natural skepticism, at an 11 for Willoughby, is turned down to a 1 for her beau. In fact, her natural skepticism is playing second fiddle to her basking in attention; from the rest of the context it sounds like she's just using it as an excuse to admire her beau apparently wearing her hair. We've seen paranoid hyperaware Elinor, and this is definitely not her. This is a new Elinor, this is aaaaaaaaaa my beau has a secret memento of me aaaaaaaaa i can't betray my secret internal happiness aaaaaaaaaaa Elinor.
I don't even think I'm reading too much into the secret internal happiness thing, girl has feelings and biases. If it were Willoughby with the strange ring of hair she'd be driving herself up the wall with concern, but that it's Edward she's already half-convinced herself of his fidelity. Either it's not her hair, or he stole her hair behind her back, and neither is a good thing! In fact, the latter is quite a stretch, and Edward seems like an awful liar. And even though she assumes the latter option, that he stole her hair without her consent, she's not even upset! That's not just creepy nowadays, Elinor acknowledges in the text that she should be affronted! It's creepy then too! Poor girl has it bad.
Mama Dashwood are you gonna say anything? I don't think Marianne is useful here, she's just happy to see signs of love.
Oh boy, there's not even much of a reprieve before Sir Middleton and Mrs Jennings show up to meet the new lad in town. 0 seconds for Mrs Jennings to figure out Edward is Elinor's secret beau. Poor Elinor is gonna get her match made so hard. I expect exponentially increased amounts of unwanted advice.
Sir Middleton invites them to more parties, as he do, which may or may not be the coming chapters. Marianne is still despirited that Willoughby is absent. Edward catches on to all these mentions of a mysterious Willoughby and Marianne's despondent reactions, and pieces things to together to come out and ask Marianne privately... if Willoughby hunts.
He just made a joke, that cheered Marianne up. That's adorable, I love it so much. Bonding... :')
Not just him too, the entire narrative was setting that one up for the reader, trying to build it up into some kind of serious question or confrontation so that Willoughby could deliver the punchline on Marianne. On a dry technical level it conveys the same bare minimum of information that it otherwise could have (that Edward has figured something out and confronted Marianne about it), but on every other level it's so much more heartwarming and just adds such a fine, tender touch to an interpersonal relationship that really doesn't get all that much positive attention.
And beyond touched, Marianne is all of happy, anxious and certain that Eddie would be great friends with her Willoughby, which, I need many new sentences to express how incredibly meaningful that is.
Marianne's relationship with Eddie up until now has been marked by a frustrated inability to understand him, and mostly held together by the good words and attention of her sister. They're established to be friends and positive, but there's always a fraught element to it, especially since we've seen that she and Willoughby together have had a similar antagonistic relationship towards Brandon, and that doesn't play out well even with Elinor's defense. Given how much she insists that she shares her heart and mind with Willoughby, we can reach the implication that she treats her opinion or place as interchangeable with Willoughby's. If she can confidently opine that Eddie will like Willoughby, then I think this is that tender moment where we can see that, no matter how or if they fight or disagree, Marianne truly believes that Eddie deeply likes and appreciates her, because that's what's necessary to like Willoughby.
And Eddie reciprocates! "I do not doubt it." He has no reason to know that Willoughby and Marianne have appreciably interchangeable level singlemindedness, so he just likes Marianne enough to be ready to accept whoever it is that she loves.
It's such a lovely note to end an otherwise tense chapter on. That interaction alone might have made it one of my favourites so far.
In real life, things are catching up to me because the month is ending, so I better get to answering emails...
Previously, Marianne is really sad, but then Eddie returns! Marianne suddenly happy! Up until she realises that Eddie and Elinor together annoy and confuse her, and now she's annoyed and confused. :'D
Writing that recap really makes me consider that it's easy to frame the story around Marianne as the protagonist so far; I guess because she tends to be most of the driving force while also having the most foibles.
This chapter features Margaret speaking again, and the most in-tune I've ever seen Elinor with another person. :')
Readthrough below.
Chapter 17
He received the kindest welcome from her; and shyness, coldness and reserve could not stand against such reception. They had already begun to fail him before he entered the house, and they were quite overcome by the captivating manners of Mrs. Dashwood.
Another few lines I really like, most immediately. Framing shyness and coldness as something that could "fail" him sets them up as something that usually succeeds him; things that he to some extent has consciously constructed for use. Defense mechanisms.
and Elinor had the satisfaction of seeing him soon become more like himself.
Awww. It does occur to me with this line though, before last chapter we hadn't ever really met Edward Ferrars, only heard of him through reference. Lots of reference sure, but we saw no glimpse of how he actually acted. So last chapter is the first time we saw him at all, and he was quite brusque then. It's both good to see him warmer now, and also canny in that with his personality revealed later we can directly contrast how he was just then with how he will be now. ((Coming back while editting, wow, he was amazingly talkative this chapter.))
Oh but he's still a bit more forlorn than usual, though.
Mrs. Dashwood, attributing it to some want of liberality in his mother, sat down to table indignant against all selfish parents.
Thank you Mama Dashwood. :'D
"sat down to table indignant" <- I love that line, but that whole line in general was wonderful.
"no inclination for expense, no affection for strangers, no profession and no assurance"
Mama Dashwood why you attack me in real life? :'( Edward is mightily unbothered by this all somehow, but for me I see these issues as problems. Is Edward's wealth or inheritance so secure that he can afford to consider not having a profession? In the very least, it could buy him some independence from his family...
They're talking about money and Elinor is comparing wealth with competence and figures are coming up, so I'm assuming she didn't just call Marianne incompetent.
"Competence: DATED: an income large enough to live on, typically an unearned one."
What manner of welfare is it that the rich live on? :( I don't know exactly what wealth means here as Elinor uses it though; savings?
Marianne "I am not extravagant" Dashwood then goes on to list a bunch of extravagant necessities for family life, including hunters, which Elinor compares to Combe Magna... which is just Willoughby's estate apparently. Seems to be googled enough I guess I wasn't the only one who forgot. I almost thought it was a period reference I wouldn’t understand.
"I wish," said Margaret, striking out a novel thought, "that somebody would give us all a large fortune apiece!"
MARGARET SPEAKS AGAIN! Does it so little I thought Marianne was speaking twice at first. I hear ya Margaret. The other sisters react predictably to this hypothetical windfall. :'D
Did... did Edward just call himself, "saucy"? Was... what? What?? What??? I don't know if I understand the word saucy anymore, but I take this to mean Edward can be at least as saucy as Elinor when he wants to.
Really enjoying this conversation, it's very much the older ones talking over Marianne's head. :'D Poor Marianne is convinced she's learned everything she needs to at 17. Poor Marianne will learn. Huh. Willoughby's probably broken up with her. Has it hit her yet that she'll be second love, or I suppose she still assumes themselves to be destined?
I was going to continue saying that I find Marianne being talked over still quite funny, and also to say that Elinor and Edward seem to be incredibly on the same wavelength, and also to point out that Edward must be very comfortable with the Dashwoods because he's being quite candid for a usually shy person. But then Marianne went and called him reserved and struck some kind of nerve, and he suddenly gets very broody, ending the conversation and the the chapter with it.
Well, that can't be ominous at all. Did he become unreserved at some point and had it go poorly? That’s my current guess.
Previously, Marianne is a mess because Willoughby has been exiled to London for a year. They’re basically broken up right now… Elinor’s still nonspecifically suspicious. I dunno what else to say really.
My mind’s been so occupied I somehow almost forgot to post this today even though I wrote it up hours ago. Also, I want a hand muff, big and fuzzy.
I think the slowing down of the pace here is intentional; with both Willoughby and Brandon gone, their social circle is reduced and time drags a little for them.
Oooh, I hadn’t considered that! Come to think of it, I did notice this when I was about finished reading Persuasion that the pace really starts to build as Anne put more and more of life and spirits back together. Made it thoroughly relatable too...
I’ll see if I can be more conscious of the overall pace now too, because that’s definitely something meaningfully expressive that I don’t understand yet, and it seems like a useful thing to figure out how to control.
Previously, Marianne is a mess because Willoughby has been exiled to London for a year. They're basically broken up right now... Elinor's still nonspecifically suspicious. I dunno what else to say really.
My mind’s been so occupied I somehow almost forgot to post this today even though I wrote it up hours ago. Also, I want a hand muff, big and fuzzy.
Readthrough below.
Chapter 16
She was awake the whole night, and wept the greatest part of it.
I have neither known nor witnessed heartbreak of this magnitude, but I will assume this to be relatively normal.
indulging in the recollection of past enjoyment and crying over the present reverse
That's another nice line. She's really investing herself into everything that reminds her of Willoughby. Poor lass. Stays like that at least a couple of days before it starts to stabilise a little bit.
There is no contact from Willoughby. Yeah, pretty sure they're entirely broken up. Mama Dashwood still thinks he'll return though? Elinor asks Mama to ask Marianne the true state of her relationship with Willoughby. Mama declines to, for fear of the possibility of it being the most hurtful question should it be that they were actually not engaged.
So even Mama has some doubts. A curiosity as it is though, I can't see what anyone could do with that information right now anyway. Willoughby is gone, and it seems the onus is on him to make contact. Onus, what a strange word. Comes from latin for "load or burden". Makes sense.
Haha, oh dear. Elinor does derive a little pleasure from the one time Mama accidentally prompts an outburst from Marianne. She wants data! It's the only way she'll get it!
Elinor finally gets Marianne to rejoin their walks; on their way they spot a man on a horse riding towards them. Marianne thinks it's Willoughby! I guess she was confident he'd return after all, so maybe they weren't broken up. Unfortunately, Marianne is wrong, isn't she.
Marianne looked again; her heart sunk within her;
... yeah.
and she turned around in surprise to see and welcome Edward Ferrars.
OH. EDDIE! Wow it has been many chapters. Out with the new, in with the old? What's brought him here? Either way, it's such a fortunate meeting Marianne has temporarily had the sad surprised out of her, for her sister's happiness. D'awwww. It's nice that we are as happy to see not-Willoughby. Marianne also resumes her observations of Elinor's strangely dry courtship rituals.
Also there's a cute little illustration here where they're holding funny little fuzzy round cyclinders, I wonder what those are? Hand warmers? Oh my gosh they are! Muffs! Back in highschool I used to stick my hands in my alternate sleeves all the time like some kind of monk. I hate the cold and I want one of these. I didn’t know they existed!
I want all their hats too but that’s beside the point because I always want their hats. Also, based on earlier illustrations I do believe that’s Marianne leftmost and Elinor in the middle, so that must be Margaret on the far right. Aww, she looks adorably excited to see Eddie!
there was a deficiency of all that a lover ought to look and say [...] seemed scarcely sensible of pleasure seeing them, looked neither rapturous nor gay, said little but what was forced from him by questions, and distinguished Elinor by no mark of affection.
Apparently one of my old friends has a relationship mutually similar to this, and it was working well last I heard. If it works, it works. Haha, Marianne is still peeved by it though. Oh, Eddie's been in the region for two weeks and is only coming to see Elinor now. Yeah, I understand. Marianne doesn't, she seems upset enough to distress Eddie himself haha. Though I think his baseline is always a little distressed.
Marianne: poetic passion about the leaves of autumn, "driven in showers about me by the wind!" :D
Elinor: oh boy dead leaves -__-
Sisters. :'D
Marianne: excitedly gushing to Eddie of the beautiful surrounds :D
Edward: the valley snow is going to be muddy :)
ah yes, Edward and Elinor, made for each other. The successive contrast with Marianne is very successful at establishing similarity of character in a way that it would be hard just by comparing Edward and Elinor to each other directly. More notes to take. I guess difference is easier to see than similarity.
"How can you think of dirt, with such objects before you?"
"Because," replied he, smiling, "among the rest of the objects before me, I see a very dirty lane."
Very practically minded, Edward. Haha, Marianne is slightly incensed. :'D
She has a very exclusionary way of looking at things; she misses the poor qualities of the surrounds, but misses the good qualities of the Middletons. Perhaps black-and-white might be more apt, things are either good or bad. Elinor is, naturally, kinder on the Middletons when asked to describe them.
Sticking to schedule is hard; I was drawing today and tried to stop drawing to do other things. I stopped drawing, but couldn't start anything else and I feel like if I rode the momentum I could've gotten so much more done, instead of nothing. But then, stopping myself from getting washed away by momentum is the point of trying to stay on schedule... double-edged sword. Anyhow!
Previously, the loverbirds have been unusually quiet and Willoughby talks Mama Dashwood out of renovation plans. That's kind of about it, except the end of the chapter sets up a Willoughby 4pm meeting so something must be about to go wrong.
Readthrough below.
Chapter 15
The Dashwoods go forth to have breakfast with Lady M. Marianne stays behind, presumably skipping to rendezvous with Willoughby.
Oh dear, wow. They come back just in time to see Marianne run crying upstairs? Dramatic timing, what is going on? Willoughby's doing the staring-into-the-floor forwards lean on the mantlepiece. Looks about as upset too, though he's keeping cheerful appearances, forced smiles and all. Did they have a fight?
Oh jeez, Willoughby too? His great-aunt (is that Mrs Smith's relation to him? I forgot) is sending him on urgent business to London as well, effective immediately. He's apparently not expecting to come back at least a year? Mama Dashwood really wants him to return sooner.
His colour increased; and with his eyes fixed on the ground he only replied, "You are too good."
Oh dear, this is the lowest Willoughby's ever been so far. This is the most... I'm not sure what the word for it is. Miniscule? Withdrawn? Broken's not right either but... Elements of shame or guilt, but somehow it seems based in something more chronic, like he's been here before. Does he have hidden issues with his self-esteem?
Everyone is shocked by this Willoughby. I'm... surprisingly less shocked, actually, but that’s probably because I feel like this broader emotional range makes him more relatable.
This was broken by Willoughby, who said with a faint smile, "[...] I will not torment myself any longer by remaining among friends whose society it is impossible for me now to enjoy."
FAINT SMILE! Willoughby's turn to faint smile! Ahhhh, welcome to the club, Willoughby. :'D
Wait, impossible to enjoy? So, wait. Did he fully break things off with Marianne completely? That would explain the extra layer of guilt... So then, he has no expectations of returning before, and now made it such that he has no intentions of returning? That's... sad. Long distance works a lot better these days.
Wow he just left immediately. Damn.
Elinor's mentally going through exactly every hypothetical I've been going through. Is she also going to settle on complete breakup?
Ah, Mama Dashwood gives a very nice theory. I say theory because it's treated as a conjecture, but I'm pretty sure it explains exactly what happened. Mrs. Smith has caught wind of Marianne, probably through the ill-advised house-tour, and has decided to try and break them up. Willoughby, depending on her inheritance, is in no position to protest. Ouch...
Elinor is still suspicious of him, but doesn't even know of what, Mama knows her, and pre-emptively chews her out a little for it. She's stuck on the fact that they've been quiet about whether they were engaged or not. Mama's convinced they have been just through observation, but Elinor's just not satisfied without proof of word.
Oh dear, Mama is really tearing into her now, on behalf of Willoughby. Elinor's responses have gone from "replied" to "cried"! She’s being made to defend her capacity for empathy. :(
I'd have to awkwardly side with Elinor on this, mostly just because Willoughby and Marianne have been together for far too short of a time. Infatuation really goes a long way changing how people think and act; as far as I've seen it's when that stage wears off that you start seeing the real relationship. Even if early engagements were standard for the period, I'd still personally have advised any prospective lovebirds to wait uh... honestly don't know but at least a year? Probably more. But it also occurs to me Willoughby's probably known Marianne less than a few months. I've had no indication that the seasons have changed at all. May even be getting into the span of only several weeks.
Fast.
Argument stops because Margaret enters. Fight not before the child, though children always know. Marianne comes for dinner too. She's a mess. :(
She was without any power, because she was without any desire of command over herself.
Hey now, that's not very charitable of you, narrator. Ms. Austen. I know dear Marianne's a drama queen, but sometimes you just gonna cry and this ain't drama queen hours. :(
Oh, there were more pages but this chapter also went by relatively fast. I guess I'm getting familiar enough with Austen's writing that I'm not nearly as likely to be sent on tangents anymore; I don't think I got lost like that in the last two chapters. I'm taking a lot less quotes too. Before, even the prose of ordinary sentences would get me thinking.
If it goes as smoothly next time I'll try tackle two chapters.
