Sense and Sensibility (The Wild and Wanton Edition) by Lauren Lane

visitors as to leave them little leisure for serious employment. Yet such was the case. When Marianne was recovered, the schemes of amusement at home and abroad, which Sir John had been previously forming, were put into execution. The private balls at the park then began; and parties on the water were made and accomplished as often as a showery October would allow. In every meeting of the kind Willoughby was included; and the ease and familiarity which naturally attended these parties were exactly calculated to give increasing intimacy to his acquaintance with the Dashwoods, to afford him opportunity of witnessing the excellencies of Marianne, of marking his animated admiration of her, and of receiving, in her behaviour to himself, the most pointed assurance of her affection. Several times, he caught her watching him with a hungry look in her eyes, the look of a woman nowhere near satisfied. She wanted him as much as he wanted her. Though the cottage was small and Willoughby and Marianne were never afforded the opportunity to be alone in each other’s company — as there was always a Dashwood (or a Middleton or a Jennings or a Brandon) within hearing distance — Willoughby knew in his bones their reunion would not be much further delayed.
    Elinor could not be surprised at Marianne and Willoughby’s attachment. She only wished that it were less openly shown — she knew first hand, after all, what it was like to follow your heart instead of your head only to be cast aside afterwards, and she knew that, should Marianne experience a similar devastation, she would not be as well equipped to handle it as Elinor herself. Once or twice she ventured to suggest the propriety of some self-command to Marianne, but Marianne abhorred all concealment where no real disgrace could attend unreserve; and to aim at the restraint of sentiments which were not in themselves illaudable, appeared to her not merely an unnecessary effort, but a disgraceful subjection of reason to common-place and mistaken notions. Willoughby thought the same; and their behaviour at all times, was an illustration of their opinions.
    One day, a day much fairer than the day on the hill, Marianne and Willoughby found their chance.
    The evening before, Sir John had invited the Dashwoods and Mr. Willoughby, who always seemed to be around lately, to luncheon at the house the next day. Willoughby feigned to consider the invitation, and then after a pointed yet private glance in Marianne’s direction, he made a large show of remembering a prior commitment in the village that would surely take up the entire day. He thanked Sir John for his gracious would-be hospitality and promised to take him up on his offer as soon as a mutually agreeable day could be determined.
    The invitation was still open to Mrs. Dashwood and her daughters, of course, and the women accepted happily.
    Marianne lay awake half the night in anticipation of the following day. She’d perfected her excuse, set out her favorite dress, and taken extra care during her bath, and all that was left was to imagine what might happen when she and her Willoughby were to finally be alone together once more.
    Just before the time came to leave for the Middletons’ home, Marianne put her hand to her head and sat down in the parlour dramatically. “Oh dear,” she murmured, loud enough for her mother and sisters to hear.
    “What is it?” Mrs. Dashwood asked, hurrying to her daughter’s side.
    “I have just been stricken by a terrible headache,” Marianne said, gingerly leaning her head back. “I am so sorry, but I just don’t think I will be able to make it to luncheon to-day.”
    Mrs. Dashwood placed her hand on Marianne’s forehead soothingly. “We shall all stay home then. Margaret, please bring me some stationery so I can send our hosts a letter.”
    “No!” Marianne cried, perhaps a bit too forcefully. She quickly regained her composure. “What I mean to say is, please don’t cancel your plans just