Tag Archives: Sense and Sensibility Fanfiction

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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Quiet

*-Of course none of these characters are mine, I am just temporarily borrowing them.

Quiet

Barton Cottage was quiet, too quiet.

Mary Dashwood remembered the day she moved into Barton Cottage with her daughters. When her husband died, she knew their time at NorlandPark was coming to an end. Fanny, John’s wife was too polite to articulate her feelings, but she was not happy having to share her new home with her husband’s stepmother and step sisters.

The letter from her cousin, Sir John Middleton was a great relief for them all. Of course, Barton Cottage was far from the size and luxury of Norland Park, but the truth was, Mary had learned to appreciate the intimacy that the small cottage allowed.

They had moved in six years ago, it seemed as only a moment had passed.

Marianne and Elinor were both married and had blessed their mother with four grandchildren.

Margaret had also recently departed Barton Cottage.

Marianne’s husband, Colonel Brandon had been offered a position with the admiralty and had relocated his family to London. The excitement of London and the society it offered had drawn Margaret in and with an invitation in hand to spend the season with Marianne and Christopher, Mary watched her youngest child depart for London.

“Mama, it’s time” Elinor’s voice broke through.

“Of course” Mary agreed as Elinor’s husband, Edward Ferrars took the last of her belongings. With her children gone, there was no need to reside at Barton Cottage with just the servants. Mary had been offered a room at the parsonage with Elinor and her family.

“I will be in your way” Mary had protested when the idea had been suggested.

 “Mama, I promise you, you will not be in the way, Edward and I would love for you to stay and the children would love your company”.

 “No, you have your own lives, I do not want to interfere, I will gladly come when asked, but I am happy to stay where I am”.

 “Mary, I assure, you will not be interfering in anyway. We have discussed the idea with Marianne and Christopher and they are of the same mind, especially with Christopher being called to London”.

 “At least let me consider the idea” Mary asked.

 Two weeks later, Barton Cottage was empty. Mary had agreed that her time at Barton Cottage had come to end. It was indeed quiet.

The End

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Reprimand

*-As usual, these characters are not mine, they belong with respect and affection belong to Miss Austen.

*- The section in italics is the original text from Sense and Sensibility.

Reprimand

It was another sleepless night for Mr. John Dashwood, son to the late Mr. Henry Dashwood and the newest master of Norland Park.

It had been nearly a fortnight since Mrs. Dashwood and her daughters had departed Norland for a small cottage on the property of a distant cousin in Devonshire.

His father’s dying wish was that John offer financial compensation to his stepmother and stepsisters. But it was Fanny, who convinced him otherwise and John was in agreement.

“He did not stipulate for any particular sum, my dear Fanny; he only requested me, in general terms, to assist them, and make their situation more comfortable than it was in his power to do. Perhaps it would have been as well if he had left it wholly to myself. He could hardly suppose I should neglect them. But as he required the promise, I could not do less than give it; at least I thought so at the time. The promise, therefore, was given, and must be performed. Something must be done for them whenever they leave Norland and settle in a new home.”

“Well, then, LET something be done for them; but THAT something need not be three thousand pounds. Consider,” she added, “that when the money is once parted with, it never can return. Your sisters will marry, and it will be gone for ever. If, indeed, it could be restored to our poor little boy—”

“Why, to be sure,” said her husband, very gravely, “that would make great difference. The time may come when Harry will regret that so large a sum was parted with. If he should have a numerous family, for instance, it would be a very convenient addition.”

“To be sure it would.”

“Perhaps, then, it would be better for all parties, if the sum were diminished one half.—Five hundred pounds would be a prodigious increase to their fortunes!”

“Oh! beyond anything great! What brother on earth would do half so much for his sisters, even if REALLY his sisters! And as it is—only half blood!—But you have such a generous spirit!”

With a clean conscious that he had provided for his stepmother and stepsisters as his father wished, John began his life as master of Norland Park.

Then the sleepless nights and the dreams came.

It was the same dream every night. His father calling his name, but when awoke, the night was silent.

“Perhaps my dear, Mr. Jones might help” Fanny offered. Mr. Jones was the physician who Mrs. Ferrars would recommend to anyone who would listen.

“No, I don’t think he is necessary”. But the nightmares and the sleepless nights continued.

“John!” he woke up with a start, his father’s voice.

“Why did you defy me?” his father’s voice boomed as a cold breeze came from nowhere.

“Father, I…I don’t understand”.

“Your stepmother and the girls, I asked you to take care of them and you have not. Why did you defy me?”.

“It was Fanny’s idea, she…”.

“Do not blame your wife, boy; you are master of Norland Park, not your wife. I am still your father and you will do as I have bid you to do”.

With that declaration, the other worldly voice and the cold breeze disappeared.

John finally woke up to find Fanny sleeping beside him and the light of the moon in the distance.

In the morning John hied a messenger as quickly to Derbyshire as quickly as he could.

“My dear, where have you sent him?” Fanny asked, noticing the man hurrying out of her husband’s study and towards the stables.

“To Derbyshire, with a note for £3000”.

“My darling, we agreed, that they do not need that money”.

“I have made up my mind, Fanny; we will not speak of this subject any further”.

In Derbyshire, Mrs. Dashwood’s maid announced the visitor.

“A letter for you ma’am, from Norland Park”.

After reading the letter, she collapsed into tears.

“Mama?” Margaret asked.

“We are saved, my dears. Your brother has come through”.

For the rest of his days, John Dashwood never dreamed of his father returning from the other world.

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Jealous

*- These characters belong to Miss Austen. I am simply a humble admirer.

*-Based on the relationship between David Morrisey and Charity Wakefield in the 2008 Sense and Sensibility.

Jealous

It was a beautiful day as Marianne stepped into the garden to cut the flowers. The roses had begun to bloom into a pretty shade of blush.

As she finished her task, she could feel a set of male arms wrapping themselves around her.

Christopher had traveled to town for Navy business; he had left early yesterday morning and was expected to return in time for dinner tonight. He had proposed a holiday to Brighton next month, Marianne had promised to consider the idea while he was away.

“Darling you’re back early”

“Mhmm” came the response as he buried his face into her blonde curls.

“I think you are right, a holiday to Brighton would be a good thing. The children are eager for the sea, as am I. Perhaps mama could join us, she had been altered since Margaret married…”.

“Why don’t we leave your mother and the children at home, we can holiday just you and I?” Marianne knew then that the man behind her was not her husband.

“Willoughy!” Marianne exclaimed as Christopher raced toward her with two burly stable boys behind him. The stable boys held Willoughby back as Christopher fought to contain his anger.

“You, sir, will stay away from my wife and remove yourself from my land; otherwise I will set the law on you”.

“Are you hurt?” Christopher inquired, searching his wife for any injuries.

“No, I am uninjured”.

“Marianne, please, I love you, I’ve always loved you” Willoughby begged as he was dragged away.

Before he was forced back to where his horse was tethered, Marianne walked up to Willoughby, looking him straight in the eye.

“I am not the girl you once knew. You have made your choices and I have made mine. I suggest, sir that you forget about me and return to your wife. Good day, Mr. Willoughby”.

Though Willoughby had been forced out hours before, Christopher could not get the image of his wife and Mr. Willoughby out of his mind.

Mr. Willoughby and Marianne were of a similar age and temperament. Christopher was her second choice, she might still love him, a jealous voice inside of him reminded him.

“Darling, you were quiet during dinner. You mustn’t be jealous of Mr. Willoughby” Marianne sometimes thought back to those days, how blind she had been.

“He is handsome and charming….”.

Marianne put down her hair brush and settled herself comfortably on her husbands lap.

“Handsome and charming he may be, but Mr. Willoughby is also inconstant, thinking of his own desires before any one else’s. While you, my darling husband, are also handsome and charming, you are also constant, giving and one of the best man I know. You have made me a happy woman these past ten years and I wouldn’t have it any other way” She kissed him lightly on the lips, wishing to eradicate his anxieties for good.

They made love slowly that night, relishing their time together and forgetting the past.

The next morning, their children descended into the bedroom, eager to start a new day. Mr. Willoughby was no more.

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