A Modern Day Sense and Sensibility: An Adaptation of Jane Austen's Classic (16 page)

Ellie studied the gift. The item was definitely beautiful, but seemed out of place for a relationship only weeks in the making. Yet Ellie couldn’t blame her sister for wanting to accept this gesture of Willoughby’s affection. If Edward had bestowed on her a similar present, wouldn’t she have been tempted to receive it with a swelling heart? Before Ellie could answer that question, however, she was forced to consider what Willoughby intended to communicate with his gift. Did he expect Marianne to “put out” in return? Ellie cringed inwardly at the phrase, but surely a man of the world wouldn’t give a gift worth thousands of dollars without strings attached—this worried her. They hadn’t known Willoughby
long enough to discern whether his intentions were honorable or not.

Glancing up and observing Marianne’s wistful expression, it was clear to Ellie that none of her reasoning would get through to her sister. Although she wished Marianne would return the extravagant present, Ellie knew too well that trying to persuade her sister’s passionate temper would only push her away further than their differences of opinion already had. Choosing instead to remain an ally, she pleaded instead, “Just be careful,” as she lowered Marianne’s hand to the bed without releasing it.

“You don’t trust him?” Marianne questioned, her voice beginning to quiver.

“It’s not that, Marianne,” Ellie defended, “I just don’t want you to get hurt.” She squeezed Marianne’s hand but Marianne only pulled away.

“Don’t worry,” Marianne answered coldly, “I have sense enough to take care of myself.”

Ellie wished with all her heart she could believe her sister’s words. Ellie liked Willoughby—she liked how happy he made Marianne—and she really did want to trust him. Yet things were moving way too fast. Surely Marianne should know Willoughby better before giving her heart to him?

“Don’t forget to pick me up at six, okay?” Ellie reminded her sister.

Marianne was borrowing their mother’s Volvo so she could join Willoughby at the gallery. The two were going to a finale tour before dinner in celebration of Willoughby’s completed review of the exhibition. Normally Ellie drove the car to and from work, but she’d relinquished her claim on the vehicle because Willoughby wouldn’t be able to pick Marianne up and her sister so desperately wanted to go.

“Yes, don’t worry! I won’t forget,” Marianne tried to reassure.

Ellie was having a hard time believing her. As it was, Marianne was already getting her to work five minutes late. She hoped Brandon wouldn’t mind, not that he’d proved himself to be a stickler on punctuality yet. But she’d never been late before.

As they pulled up to the hotel’s entry, Ellie cringed. Lo and behold, there was Brandon standing outside saying goodbye to a departing VIP guest.

“Marianne, don’t drive so fast. I don’t want Brandon to see.”

“Oh, don’t worry. He won’t care. You’re a friend—a friend of his
beloved
Mrs. Jennings,” Marianne laughed. She and Willoughby often made fun of Brandon for visiting
his elderly friends so often. Ellie thought it was sweet and admired him for it.

Brandon waved at them as they pulled up, and Ellie waved back as she hurriedly stepped out of the vehicle. “I’m so sorry I’m late, Brandon.”

“No worries. The books can wait,” he smiled.

Ellie thanked him before waving goodbye to Marianne as she peeled out of the hotel’s parking lot.

“Where’s Marianne off to in such a hurry?” Brandon asked.

“Oh, she’s meeting Jim,” Ellie readjusted her purse strap. Although she was eager to begin her shift, she didn’t quite feel excused by Brandon.

“She and Jim seem to be getting pretty serious?” he said, more as a statement than a question.

Ellie noticed his jaw clench and felt a twinge of guilt even though she really had no control over her sister’s actions. “Yes. If you ask me, I think they’re moving a little too quickly. Marianne can be so impulsive.”, Ellie sighed, “I wish she’d grow up a little bit—become better acquainted with the ways of the world. She’s just . . . just too trusting.”

Brandon stuffed his hands into his pockets and idly kicked at a pebble near his foot. “Marianne reminds me of someone I used to know . . . actually, they’re very much alike—or should I say, they would have been.”

Ellie bit her lip, remembering what Mrs. Jennings had shared concerning Brandon’s past. Remaining silent, she was curious as to whether or not Brandon would continue.

“She, ah, she passed away several years ago,” he explained. Then clearing his throat, Brandon added, “Don’t try to change your sister. Don’t wish the heartbreak of reality on her. It would ruin Marianne.”

Feeling suddenly self-conscious about her former convictions, Ellie blushed at the truth behind Brandon’s words. He was right. Marianne, with her overly sensitive disposition, would take the harsh realities of the world too much to
heart and they would defeat her. Brandon’s words were like a wake-up call for Ellie. This man, while having only studied her sister from afar, seemed to know Marianne better than herself at the moment. Yet, she shouldn’t be too surprised, considering how distant their relationship had grown over the past several months.

Before Ellie had a chance to extend her condolences over his long ago loss, Brandon studied his watch and turned to her. “Well,” he began, his voice still tight from the dissipating emotion, “I have a three o’clock meeting. I hope you don’t mind; if I head out now I’ll make it just in time.”

Nodding, Ellie watched Brandon hurry to his sleek Lexus before remembering she herself had to be somewhere that very moment. Quickly waving goodbye to Brandon as he pulled onto the main drag, she rushed inside to begin her shift.

“Marianne, are you almost done?” Willoughby asked with a hint of exasperation, tired of modeling for Marianne’s latest artistic venture that Sunday afternoon.

She was painting Willoughby in character, and had him wearing a white t-shirt and blue jeans. With the sun streaming down on him, it was a picture-perfect setting.

Working in the newly-planted garden nearby were Ellie and Diane, observing the couple with interest while Margaret played with Rover.

“Almost . . . just another five
hours
,” Marianne smirked at Willoughby, prompting him to rush toward her and begin tickling. In between giggles, Marianne tried to scold him. “Get back there!” she laughed. After he had his fill of tickling the delightful Marianne, Willoughby kissed her forehead and obeyed, resuming his pose underneath the tree.

Watching this scene with amusement, Ellie was distracted by some movement from behind and turned to see what it was. Standing on the sidewalk beside them, also observing the young couple, was Brandon.

“Brandon,” Ellie greeted, feeling anxious for him at having arrived in the midst of such a romantic moment.

Hearing her eldest speak, Diane also turned and noticed Brandon. “How are you, Brandon?” she asked with a smile.

While Brandon answered her mother, Ellie sat back and took off her soiled gloves, wiping the sweat from her
forehead. She observed Marianne’s cold reception of Brandon and how her sister turned back to Willoughby, who shared her look of annoyance. Ellie could sense a distinct edge in Willoughby’s expression. It was obvious he didn’t care too much for Brandon. Perhaps he sensed the protectiveness Brandon held for Marianne and viewed it as a threat?

“I come with an invitation to a picnic,” Brandon’s voice broke through Ellie’s thoughts and brought smiles all around, with the exception of Marianne and Willoughby. Brandon, to appease them, quickly added, “You’re invited too, Jim.” Brandon knew it was very unlikely that Marianne would come without Willoughby and wasn’t looking forward to a party void of her presence, even though she’d be on the arm of another man.

Although Marianne smiled brightly at the inclusion, Willoughby merely nodded his head in recognition but gave no affirmative answer. Ellie was embarrassed by Willoughby’s reaction. What had Brandon ever done to deserve this coldness?
Men
, she thought,
I’ll never understand them
.

The picnic was that following Saturday, and everyone was buzzing about it. What would they wear? What concoction could they bake to share at the picnic? And what new game could they teach to be considered the most entertaining guests? Yet all Margaret was concerned about that exciting morning was how late her mom was going to make them.

Diane wanted to bring practically everything but the kitchen sink, determined to be prepared for the outdoor excursion. But when Ellie saw the compilation of things waiting outside the car, she was forced to put her foot down. There was no way it would all fit into the vehicle. Diane needed to be reminded that the three of them still had to fit in the car as well! In the end they compromised at six blankets, five folding chairs, two umbrellas, three different varieties of pies, and a bag of bread rolls.

“Mom, we’re gonna be late!” whined Margaret from inside the vehicle. Finding a spot for Margaret had been made especially difficult with her insistence that Rover go with them. Margaret had convinced their mother that the exercise would be good for the dog. Ellie had complied in making room for the pet, but now as Rover sat panting next to her youngest sister, she grimaced. That dog was a nuisance! It slobbered everywhere and never left a room without first making a mess.

“Margaret, we’ll make it there, and with time to spare! The picnic doesn’t start for an hour!” Diane tried to silence her youngster.

Before Margaret was able to fire back with another complaint, Willoughby drove up in his red convertible, distracting the young girl as he parked next to their vehicle. Although Willoughby had returned to New York the previous Monday to resume his day job, he had promised Marianne to return for Brandon’s picnic and planned on staying another full weekend before jet-setting back across the country.

Margaret, in awe of the showy suitor, waved eagerly at him. Willoughby smiled and inclined his head toward her before honking the car horn twice. Ellie was taken aback by this gesture. Not only was it rude, but his horn was obnoxiously loud. She rubbed her ears as Marianne came running out to join him with a large, wrapped canvas in hand.

Ellie frowned as she watched her sister. Didn’t Marianne have any self-respect? What could be more insulting to a girl than honking your horn at her? Upset, Ellie had to turn away to hide her displeasure.

“What have you got there?” Willoughby asked as Marianne got into the vehicle, placing the package in the backseat.

“It’s the painting I promised you—the one you posed for last weekend.”

“Really?”, he smiled, “I can’t wait to see it.”

Pleased, Marianne smiled back, then turned to her family. “See you there!” she yelled while buckling up.

“Bye, darling!” Diane waved goodbye as his car sped off into the distance.

Once the convertible was out of sight, Ellie turned to her mom, hot under the collar. “He honked his horn at her, Mom!” Ellie declared, indignant, “I would never allow a guy to honk the horn for me.”

Diane closed the over-stuffed trunk and faced Ellie. “Neither would I . . . but times have changed and Marianne is not old-fashioned like us.”

“It’s not a matter of being old-fashioned, Mom,” replied Ellie. “It’s a matter of respect.”