Palmers were there; had I been well enough, I may have been better able to put up with Charlotte Palmer, but believe me, Elinor, I was in no state to endure her witless chatter.â
Surprised at the sharpness of her sisterâs remark, Elinor believed she was still feeling unwell, and chose not to mention her concerns about their motherâs decision to remain at Barton Park. Marianne herself made no comment on the matter and, urging her sister to take good care of herself, Elinor left to visit her friend Mrs King.
She meant to acquaint her with some of the extraordinary things that had occurred at Barton Park and her own disquiet on the matter. She was sure Helen King, who was of a practical disposition, would have a sensible explanation that would help allay her anxiety.
But, while Mrs King did indeed welcome her friend warmly, she appeared rather distressed herself and, after theyâd taken tea, suggested a walk out on the path that ran along the edge of the bluff upon which their cottage was situated. It afforded not only a most picturesque view of the valley and river below, but guaranteed the privacy that both women clearly desired.
Mrs King spoke first, explaining that she had been worried all week about her daughter. Dorothea had met her young guardsman again at a dinner party in the home of mutual friends. The young man, now sadly retired from his regiment and unable, on account of his injuries, to obtain other work, had treated her rather coldly, and Dorothea had been very distressed, Mrs King confided. âShe still loves him, Elinor, and though Dr King and I have tried tactfully and gently to suggest that all may not be lostâthey are both quite young and the young man may yet overcome his disabilityâDorothea is not hopeful. We worry that she, while unlikely to go into a melancholy declineâit is not in her natureâhas nonetheless decided that love and marriage are out of her reach, and, Elinor, she is only twenty-three!â she cried.
Understanding her friendâs concern, Elinor confessed that she had once held similar fears for her young sister Marianne, now Mrs Brandon, when she was but seventeen. But she was happy to report that things had taken a turn for the better, when Marianne had decided, some months after a particularly unhappy experience, to accept Colonel Brandon.
âAs you can see, they are now quite happily settled at Delaford,â she added. Elinor had not mentioned the man concerned by name at all, referring instead to a disappointment in love sustained at an impressionable age, from which Marianne, being passionate and sincere as well as very young at the time, had suffered very badly. Which was why Elinor was astonished to hear Mrs King say in a confidential sort of voice that yes, she had heard about young Mrs Brandonâs unhappy love affair with a certain Mr Willoughby of Somersetshire.
Turning immediately to face her companion, Elinor, startled and disconcerted, asked how she had come by that information, to be told that it was generally known among some of the ladies in the district. Her own informant had been a Miss Henrietta Clift, who claimed to know both Mr Willoughby and his late aunt, Mrs Smith, the former owner of Allenham, a fine estate in the county of Devon. Miss Clift, said Mrs King, had claimed therefore to be well acquainted with the facts of the case.
Unwilling to allow the subject of her sisterâs past to be trawled further, Elinor stated with great conviction that all of their friends and family had been delighted when Marianne had accepted Colonel Brandon, who was universally liked and respected, and Mrs King concurred, adding that she was sure Mrs Brandon must have completely recovered from her youthful infatuation.
Their conversation continued thereafter along different, less contentious lines, but it left Elinor disturbed and troubled. She had no knowledge at all of this Miss Henrietta Clift and wondered by what means