Chapter Text
Tears blurred her vision as Marianne ran down the pavement. She didn't know where she was going, and she didn't care.
She didn't care that she was lost, she didn't care that the rain had thoroughly soaked her, and she didn't care who saw her.
No, after the events of the evening, there was little she cared about.
The ball had started out like a dream, and ended as a nightmare. Glistening candlelight, dazzling chandeliers, brilliant fireworks, and ladies dressed in the most fashionable of gowns. Music, dancing, and laughter were everywhere!
But her sole focus was to find Willoughby. To find him and demand to know why he'd not responded to her letters or come to call upon her.
And she was certain that he'd apologize profusely, and offer a very reasonable explanation for his silence. And she knew he'd put it so eloquently that she would forgive him immediately.
Only... he didn't.
He didn't really say anything besides asking after her health and her mother's whereabouts. And before she could ask any further about what was going on, he'd bowed and taken his leave, returning over to the tall brunette who sent an icy glare her way.
Marianne was so shaken and confused, that her legs began to give out as Elinor tried to pull her from the room. Before she could fall to the floor, strong arms were around her and Colonel Brandon's deep voice was at her ear.
"Allow me.. "
Everything was a blur as they lead her from the crowded rooms, but she did clearly hear the tittering begin.
"I heard she sent him a letter everyday since their arrival to town!"
"Indeed! I've heard even up to THREE a day!"
"Why on earth would a woman chase a man who has clearly made her no promises?"
"You know what they say: there is none so desperate as a fallen woman."
"It makes sense, this pathetic display of needing his attention. She has lost her innocence, and now will do anything to win him back!"
She was humiliated beyond belief. To be so publicly rejected by her love was one thing; to have nearly the entire ton now believing she had given herself to him was another.
And she knew what this meant: she was viewed as used goods, and no decent man would want her now.
She knew word of her apparent downfall would spread like wildfire. Even though it wasn't true, who would believe her?
She was ruined. Her sisters were ruined. Perhaps even her mother was too. And it was all her fault for being such a foolish, naive girl.
So the second her feet stepped down from the carriage, she ran. Colonel Brandon had wanted to come with them, but Elinor had assured him they could see themselves back to Mrs. Jennings London dwellings. Marianne knew he would have been able to catch her if he was present, but he wasn't; and Elinor couldn't outrun a tortoise.
Ignoring her sister's cries to come back, Marianne ran into the night and didn't stop.
She didn't stop when the wind picked up and it began to rain. She didn't stop when she no longer recognized the streets. And she didn't stop as her tears clouded her vision.
Eventually, she did have to stop, of course. She was breathless and weary, and her feet were aching from the hard pavement.
It was still raining, and she wiped the tears and rain from her eyes to try to make sense of where she was.
There were no shops nearby, and she apparently had wandered into a low class dwelling. She knew many of these people were harmless, but she was wearing a diamond necklace that Mrs. Jennings had lent her, and didn't dare risk losing it. Turning on her heals, she scurried back the way she came, praying something would begin to look familiar.
As she wandered the streets, she began to think. What was she going to do now? She had to marry. Even before her scandal she knew she'd have to someday. She was penniless, and a good match to a wealthy man was her only hope.
She'd of course dreamed of marrying for love, and she'd thought she'd found that in Willoughby. But now, thanks to his deception, she was doomed to be a spinster, for no good man would have her now.
Why had she been so stupid? Why had she thrown herself at the first man who paid her attention? Well.. that wasn't true. Colonel Brandon had first. But she'd thought him too old and boring. But, as she now reflected, he had always been gentle and kind. Always patient with Margaret's chatter, and even when she obviously rejected his suite, he'd never changed how he treated her or her family.
A true testament of his character.
A thought occurred to her. Would he...? Surely not. Surely he too viewed her as a fallen woman. Even if he believed her, his reputation would still be called into question if he married her.
But, if anyone was going to do her the kindness of marrying her, even with gossip surrounding her, it was him.
She had one chance, and she had to take it.
♡♡♡♡♡
Brandon stared at the flames in his fireplace, regretting not seeing the Dashwood sisters home personally.
But Miss Elinor had insisted they were fine, and bid him goodnight. Reluctantly, his arm pulled away from Marianne's waist as she climbed into the carriage.
Clouds were beginning to form as he watched them drive away, and he decided he'd had enough of the party as well. Unfortunately, the gossip that had began while he and Elinor led the near fainting Marianne from the ball was now in full swing. He wanted to bellow that it wasn't true. That Miss Marianne was a virtuous woman, and had been poorly treated by a man he personally loathed with every fiber of his being.
But the awful truth was, he didn't know. He didn't know if Marianne had lain with Willoughby. And if she had... and if she... he groaned just thinking about it... if she ended up in the same predicament as his sweet Eliza...
He had to help Marianne. He knew marriage was the best way out of this for her, but he also knew she'd never marry him. She'd made that clear. Perhaps he could offer her and her family a monthly allowance to help them, especially as it would now be hard for her sisters to also find husbands.
But it was unlikely they'd accept...
Before he could dwell on it much more, someone could be heard pounding on his door.
What the-?
It was much too late for visitors, so he naturally feared something dreadful had happened. Was it Eliza? Her child?
His answer came moments later when a drenched Marianne was shown into his drawing room.
"Marianne!" He gasped at the sight of her. She was shivering and soaking, and her blotchy cheeks showed she had been crying for some time. "What are you doing here? Come, quickly and warm yourself!"
Grabbing the thick wool blanket from the back of his chair, Brandon wrapped it around her shaking shoulders and led her to the armchair.
"I'll ruin the fabric." She tried to argue.
"Marianne..." he sighed, not caring one bit about some outdated upholstery.
"I'll just sit here." She plopped herself on the rug in front of the fire. "I'll be warmer here anyway."
"Very well." He nodded. "Then I shall sit with you."
She tried to protest, but he waved away her concerns.
"Now, Miss Marianne, what is this all about. Why have you come here at such an hour, in such a state?"
She blushed, and tugged the blanket closer. He had not meant to embarrass her, but it was rather improper of her to show up like this.
Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes, and let the words fall out. Words he was sure she'd rehearsed on her trek over to him.
"Colonel Brandon, as you know, gossip now surrounds me. I am innocent of what they accuse me of, but I doubt I shall ever be believed. However, my foolishness at throwing my heart away so carelessly has not only brought ruin to me, but also my dear sisters. I cannot allow their futures to be jeopardized because of my actions. So..." her eyes slowly opened, blue and misty with tears that began to trickle down her cheeks. "So... Colonel Brandon, I come to you tonight to humbly ask that you... that you marry me."
Well this was certainly unexpected....
"Marianne-" he began, but she hurried on.
"I will be a good wife to you! I promise!" The tears were now flowing freely, and her voice was desperate. "I will never embarrass you with any scandal. I will keep to myself, I will do everything you tell me to do. I will never deny you. I will give you as many children as you want! I will-"
"Marianne!" He finally managed to cut her off. He was horrified at her list of reasons why she thought he would be willing to marry her. Do as he told her? Never deny him?! Bear as many children as he saw fit?!!!
He took a deep breath of his own and reached out to take her small hands in his.
"Marianne," he spoke her name softly as his thumbs traced circles on her hands. "If you are in search of safety in a marriage, then I will happily give it to you. But...I have no wish for a wife who believes herself indebted to me. If you are my wife, I will care for you and protect you, no matter what. I will never touch you, never expect children from you."
She gasped, her eyes growing wide.
"You do not wish for children? For an heir?!" She questioned.
"I do. I do wish for children. I wish for a wife whom I can hold in my arms in the night. To kiss, and pour out my love to her at any chance I have. But... more than all of that, I have no wish to force myself upon a wife who does not want me."
Marianne was silent for a moment, then she gently squeezed his hands.
"Then why would you agree to marry me?" She whispered.
Brandon chuckled under his breath.
"Because I love you, Marianne. Ever since I entered the Middleton's drawing room all those months ago, I have loved you. And if this is the only way I can be there for you, and show you my love... then I will give it. I will give you anything you ask for, and ask for nothing in return." His voice shook slightly at his confession, but she deserved to know.
"Oh, Brandon...." she cried, pulling back her hands to wipe away at her tears. She looked so young and scared, and he worried for a moment that he'd made a mistake. But then she looked back up at him. "I do not deserve you. You are so kind, and generous."
"You're right. You deserve a man you also love. And I am sorry I am not that man." He replied. "But I promise to always be there for you. No matter what."
She stared into the flames, and he could tell she was contemplating something.
"How do I know?" Her small voice broke the silence.
"Know what?" He gently prodded.
"How do I know...I won't ever love you?" Her eyes returned to his, and he saw her trembling again. Was she scared? Nervous? "I've been so caught up in Willoughby, and his handsome face, that I-"
She sucked in a breath at her words, but he did not take them to heart. He knew Willoughby was younger and many thought him exceedingly handsome.
"... that I," she cleared her throat. "That I never stopped to think what it would be like to be loved by you. And if I'm honest...I do not think it would be so bad."
Wouldn't be so bad. We'll, that was at least something. Not exactly a compliment, but he'd take it.
"I will love you with all what I am, Marianne, even if you never return my affection." He vowed.
She let out a little huff.
"That hardly seems fair to you. If you do marry me, I promise I will not reject you, Colonel. I cannot promise to fall in love, but... but I will try."
Brandon's heart broke a little at her words. He knew she had dreamed of marrying for love, and she was now practically forced to marry him, trying to convince herself she'll be happy...
"Marianne..." he reached out for her hands again. "I ask that you don't make any decisions tonight. This has been a trying day for you. Why don't you go home, rest, enjoy a nice, hearty breakfast, and I will come by for a visit at morning tea. Give me a sign, and I will state my intentions. Your family need not know about our meeting tonight if you wish. And if you have changed your mind, I will simply pretend I stopped by to pay you all a visit. Does that sound alright?"
Marianne squeezed his hands and nodded her head, not meeting his eye.
"Yes... thank you. I'm... I'm sorry for being such a silly, foolish girl." She whispered.
"None of that now." He tried to sooth her. "Now come, let us see you ho-"
A footman entering the room cut off his words.
"Sir, Miss Dashwood is here to see you." He announced.
"Elinor... oh she must be so worried about me!" Marianne cried out.
"Calm yourself." Brandon smiled down at her. "I will go get her. We can just say you got caught in the storm and came here as it was closer."
"Thank you." She sighed.
Brandon made his way down the stairs to see Elinor standing by the door, her eyes wide and her hands fidgeting.
"Miss Dashwood." He nodded in greeting.
"Colonel Brandon, I'm so sorry to intrude, but Marianne is missing! She-"
"She's upstairs." He interrupted her.
"She... what?"
"She got caught in the storm and my residence was closer. She's just been warming herself by the fire. Come." He gestured for her to follow, and after a moment of gaping at him, she did.
"Marianne!" Elinor gasped as she flew to her side.
Marianne knew she had to be quite the sight, dripping hair, tear streaked face, soaking wet dress, all while sitting on Colonel Brandon's floor, wrapped in his blanket.
"I'm sorry to have worried you, Elinor." She apologized as her older sister embraced her.
"Nevermind that now. I'm just glad you're safe! Never run off like that again!" She scolded, and Marianne promised she wouldn't. "Come, we must get you home. You've taken advantage of the Colonel's generosity for long enough."
Marianne knew what her sister really meant.
You've been improper being alone in a gentleman's home while leaving a puddle on his floor for long enough.
"Yes, of course. Do we have a carriage?" She inquired as Elinor helped her to stand.
"Yes, of course." She nodded. "Thank you, Colonel, for all your help."
Marianne looked over at the tall man, his soft, kind eyes, and his small smile as he looked at the sisters.
"Yes, thank you Colonel. For... for everything." She whispered. His eyes met hers, and she knew he understood that she was thanking him for agreeing to protect her.
He wanted her to take the night to think on it, and while she knew she would not change her mind, she felt she at least owed it to him to reassure him she was serious about this.
"Goodnight, Miss Marianne. Miss Dashwood." He bowed his head at the two young ladies as they took their leave.
"What were you thinking?!" Elinor hissed as they climbed into the waiting carriage.
"I wasn't." Marianne sighed.
"Clearly." Her older sister groaned, but spoke no more about it as they rode back to Mrs. Jennings dwellings.