Twenty One Years

It has been a very long time since I published my last fanfiction. Reviews are welcomed and appreciated.  Thank you to my friend (who shall remain nameless on the blog, but she knows who she is), who beta read the story.

*The only characters that are not mine are Marianne and Christopher Brandon. The rest I have created.

*In honor of the late Alan Rickman. Twenty one years ago, he stole our hearts as Colonel Brandon, and never gave them back to us.

Twenty One Years

Mrs. Marianne Brandon sat in her drawing room, trying not to imagine the worst. She tried to concentrate on the book, but her mind kept going back to her husband.

Two days ago, her husband, Colonel Christopher Brandon, was inspecting a tenant’s roof after a storm when he suddenly collapsed. After he was brought back to Barton Park, he lay in state between life and death.

An hour ago, Mr. Jenkins arrived to re-examine Christopher. Having examined Christopher just after he arrived at Barton Park unconscious, Mr. Jenkins returned as promised to check on the patient.

“Colonel Brandon is awake, Madam,” Andrews, the butler announced at the door away.

“Thank you, Andrews. Has Mr. Jenkins completed his examination?” Marianne asked.

“I believe he has”.

“Thank you, Andrews.” Retuning the book to the shelf, Marianne tried appear collected as she walked upstairs.

“Madam, may I have a word with you?” Dr. Jenkins asked, walked out of the bedroom.

“Of course”.

“Madam, I wish I could tell you that Colonel Brandon will recover. I can only advise you to make him comfortable and pray for an easy passing.” the doctor said solemnly.

“Thank you, Mr. Jenkins. Andrews will show you out.” The doctor disappeared down the stairs.

“Mama, is Papa dying?” Before Marianne could turn her attention to her husband, their daughter Mary, ran to her mother’s arms. At the age of 10, Mary was the youngest of her four children and a miniature of her father.

“Why don’t you go downstairs and play something for your father? Leave the door open so he can hear.” Marianne encouraged.

“Yes, Mama.”

“What did Mr. Jenkins say? Will I live forever?” Christopher asked as she entered their bedroom and sat down beside her husband. The music from the pianoforte flowed throughout the home, reaching the bedroom.

The look in Marianne’s eyes spoke volumes.

“I am sorry, my love, that I am not immortal. For you, I would become immortal.” Tangling her fingers through his, Christopher’s eyes never left Marianne’s.

Silently, Marianne climbed into their bed, letting her husband’s warmth comfort her.

“I love you.” Marianne said quietly.

“Till the day I die, my dearest Marianne.”

A week later, Colonel Christopher Brandon closed his eyes for the final time. For the last twenty-one years, Marianne Brandon had lived with the love of her life and the father of her children.

Now Christopher was gone, and it was up to her keep his legacy and their love going.

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