A Modern Day Sense and Sensibility: An Adaptation of Jane Austen's Classic (2 page)

Although he was seven years older, and her father’s son from a previous marriage, Ellie had always felt close to John. Whenever he did visit, which wasn’t often, he went out of his way to treat Ellie and her sisters with kindness. Looking at her half-brother now, Ellie was struck by how much he resembled their dad—however, aside from their shared kindliness of heart, that’s where the similarities between father and son ended. Ellie often wished John had inherited the same strength of character once embodied by their late father, especially when it came to handling his controlling and manipulative wife. John was married and had a son named Harry.

“If you need anything. . .” continued John.

“He was your dad too, John,” Ellie said, lowering her eyes.

“Yes, but I made a promise to Dad that if anything were to ever happen to him . . . I would help care for all of you.”

Ellie’s face softened, but she wouldn’t allow herself to rely on his good intentions. Though she believed John spoke
with sincerity, it was her sister-in-law she worried about. Francil Dashwood was heartless and greedy. Keeping these thoughts to herself, however, Ellie gently grasped John’s arm and speaking earnestly, she thanked him.

Interrupting this nowadays rare bonding moment between the siblings, Francil sidled toward them. If Ellie didn’t have such a dislike for John’s wife, she’d have admitted Francil was positively gorgeous—thus attributing to the label she and her sisters had given their sister-in-law behind her back: “Ice Queen”. Francil liked getting her way and John was her puppet in accomplishing that. Ellie wished John would stand up for himself once in a while.

“There you are, John,” Francil cooed. Glancing at Ellie, she tried her best to appear sorrowful about the recent passing. “Oh, Ellie, we—I—am so sorry.”

Ellie forced herself to accept the phony sympathy. She knew Francil couldn’t be happier with the new arrangements now that John was CEO at Dashwood International. John would now no doubt inherit a large sum of money and assets. Mr. Dashwood had been a very wealthy man as the founder and owner of an electronics company now worth over a billion dollars.

Francil quickly turned her attention back to John, “Honey, Harry’s waiting out in the car.”

John nodded, but looked embarrassed by his wife’s behavior. Trying to cushion her lack of true emotion, he added, “Take care, Ellie.”

Ellie faked a smile as she watched the couple retreat to their vehicle. She knew things would be changing over the next few weeks in ways she never would have imagined, and could only hope that seeing Francil’s face on a regular basis wouldn’t be one of them.

Thomas’s study had once been a place of peaceful refuge, a dwelling where one could escape for hours while devouring a new or favorite book. Diane could recall many a time finding Thomas and the girls cuddled together on the study’s sofa as he read to them from their beloved storybooks. Thinking about those memories brought her comfort, especially at times like this, when sitting face-to-face with the family’s lawyer. Mr. Jamison had been a consultant to the family for years, and Diane had considered him a friend, but was no longer sure she wanted to bestow that title upon him at the moment. Not part of the will? Give up the house? Move? . . . these were words Diane didn’t want to fathom—couldn’t comprehend.

Noticing Diane still somewhat in a state of shock, Mr. Jamison repeated himself, “I’m sorry, Diane, your husband never changed the original will he made years before he married you. As it stands now, everything is left to his son John.”

“For heaven’s sake, I was his wife—we had three daughters together. Surely this must be a mistake!”, Diane explained with anxiety, her svelte body tense. Everything—to John? What did that leave her and the girls?

Mr. Jamison reached for his briefcase and pulled out an authenticated document. Diane immediately recognized it as Thomas’s will. She didn’t need proof of his words; she trusted Mr. Jamison enough to know his motives were in the
right—he was just doing his job—even still, it was hard to accept. Mr. Jamison sighed, grieved not only by the loss of his friend, but for the position in which this single document placed Diane and the girls. “I insisted that Thomas change his will shortly after marrying you, but he was afraid it would jinx his happiness. Perhaps he never mentioned it to you, but he updated his will just two months before his first wife died and after that he’d had some strange inclination—call it grief—that his actions had resulted in her death. He was afraid touching the will would somehow affect you, too.”

Diane nodded. She vaguely remembered Thomas referring to his guilt early on in their marriage. Although she wanted someone to blame for this superstition—this breach—she recognized that this wasn’t Mr. Jamison’s fault, and that if he could have seized a legal loophole on her behalf, he would have. Still, hopeful that perhaps another option could be contrived, Diane met his gaze, but he read her face and once again outlined the facts.

“Unfortunately, unless it is legally challenged, there’s nothing I can do.”

“What’s going to happen to us now?” Diane asked, bewildered.

He shrugged and sighed, putting the will back into the briefcase. Cupping his shadowed chin, he answered, “I’m sorry to say that you’re now at the mercy of your step-son and, knowing his wife, I wouldn’t place any hopes in that corner.” Francil’s reputation was known by many.

“What if . . . I contest the current will?” Diane asked, but then paused, retracting slightly with her eyes. It was clear Mr. Jamison had already considered that option as well.

“That would cost money, something which, according to the will, is to be immediately transferred into John’s possession.”

“Which means. . .” Diane began to add up the information in an equation that frightened her terribly.

In an effort to ease the dreaded realization, Mr. Jamison laid his hand on hers. “I’m sorry. I wish there was more I could do. I hate the thought of you and the girls having to start all over someplace else.”

This was a daunting task for the fifty-two-year-old Diane. Sinking back into her chair, she didn’t know where to begin. Diane hadn’t had to work since marrying Thomas, and had no real job experience aside from her work as a stewardess—which could no longer be a consideration with three daughters to look after. Of course Ellie had just finished earning her college degree, but Diane couldn’t expect her eldest to carry the burden of breadwinner. Sighing, Diane closed her eyes, but all she could see were the many happy memories she and Thomas had made during their twenty-three years together. She assumed she’d forever enjoy Thomas’s provision—she had never wanted to imagine a life without her beloved husband.

Smiling bitter-sweetly over the happiness her life had once contained, images of her three lovely daughters Ellie, Marianne, and Margaret, flashed next before her eyes. Reminding herself of those three wonderful reasons to start over, Diane swallowed back her tears and walked Mr. Jamison to the door.

“I can’t believe you’re just going to move, and not do anything to stop Francil and John from ruining our lives!” Marianne exclaimed petulantly. Tears rolling down her cheeks, she hurried from the room and ran upstairs to her suite.

Ellie exhaled, relieved by the evacuation of Marianne’s raw emotions. She had known her sister would react this way—Marianne always felt deeply and reacted accordingly. When Marianne had earlier accused Ellie of not being able to feel
anything
, Ellie had struggled to keep her cool. It wasn’t that she didn’t feel being displaced just as deeply as her sister, she just figured fighting about it was useless. Whether they liked it or not, Francil and John were coming to claim the house in two days. Although John had assured them that they had plenty of time to find a new place, Ellie and her family would officially be demoted to visitors in their own home. Not only that, Francil had requested they give up their bedrooms and move all their belongings to the west wing. Ellie had begun packing as soon as her mother relayed the news the night before, knowing that if she wished to keep any items of particular interest, they must be removed before her sister-in-law’s arrival. Marianne had taken this as a sign of surrender, a quality she could not abide. Thinking about it now, Ellie surmised it was indeed surrender, but what else could they do with no money and now no father to plead their case? Why, Marianne of all people should understand
this, seeing as her hope of finishing up her freshman year at the Art Institute had been interrupted with the removal of their father’s wealth. She would now have to wait till the following year when loans and scholarships could be arranged before continuing her education.

While Ellie continued packing various household keepsakes and treasured décor items, Diane sat at the dining table, her face cupped in her hands. Ellie had not been the only one affected by Marianne’s outburst. Diane was suffering not only from the loss of her soulmate, but also that of the home she dearly loved. Ellie silently chided Marianne; their mother didn’t need this drama. It had been a trying evening, even without Marianne’s emotions running all over the place.

Ellie had been saying ‘no’ too many times that night. Diane, who’d been scanning the newspaper for house rentals, had consistently presented options far beyond their price range. Of course Ellie tried to maintain a degree of tact when reminding her mother they now lived on a fixed budget, but she also couldn’t pretend their new circumstances weren’t dour. Diane reacted, as expected, but Ellie understood she must not take her mother’s harsh words personally—she was exhausted, frustrated, and hurting. Suggesting an apartment close to home instead, Ellie thought perhaps the idea of living near their old neighborhood would be a pleasant solution to her mother. However, following Francil’s hasty take-over, Diane didn’t want to be anywhere near the two people who were now, at least in her mind, stealing her home.

Unfortunately, this meant that Ellie would have to give up her plans of moving into the city with a few of her college buddies. How on earth could her mother afford an apartment on her own? Although she and her friends had always talked about getting a place following graduation and pursuing their dream careers, that goal now seemed further away than ever. She’d finally received a bachelor’s in accounting and had completed an internship with Dashwood Interna
tional over the summer, but what came next must be put on hold. Her family took precedence. Regretfully telling her friends they’d have to find another roommate, Ellie turned her attention back to her family. They needed her now more than ever. Telling herself that dreams could wait, Ellie couldn’t imagine abandoning her family at a time like this. How would they survive? Her mother—live on a budget? And who would counteract Marianne’s negativity and help care for Margaret? Those answers blaringly obvious to Ellie, she knew she’d made the right decision to stay.

Margaret came in just then with the rolls of tape Ellie had asked her to retrieve and was wearing them around her delicate wrists as chunky bracelets. “I’m so sick of packing,” she complained as she flopped onto the chair next to her mother.

“I don’t think anyone enjoys it, Margaret, but we don’t have a choice,” Ellie stated matter-of-factly. She surveyed the dozen or so boxes crowding the room and surmised they’d have to be stored in the garage until other arrangements could be made.

“Why do we have to move, Ellie?” Margaret asked, still not understanding the reason for their relocation.

Ellie sighed inwardly before descending from the stool she was currently atop and pulling out the chair next to her sister. Before her sat an adorable nine-year-old, who, until last week, had only been concerned about her ballet class and spending time with friends. Now this outspoken, freckle-faced cherub was forced to comprehend the loss of a parent. Ellie, twenty-one, could understand the cycle of life and that her father was in a better place, but did Margaret know that? Ellie decided the best way to handle this situation was to be extremely honest, realizing that Margaret would value being treated as an adult.

“Margaret, when Dad died, he left a will that said who would get his belongings, like our houses, most of our furniture . . . stuff like that.” Margaret nodded. “Well, for some
reason, Dad didn’t, or forgot to, change his will to have everything go to Mom.” Ellie’s eyes wandered to her mother who was watching the interaction between them.