This is my imaginings of what happened right after Sense and Sensibility. My apologies to Miss Jane Austen. (I used the Emma Thompson movie version as my inspiration.)
Please enjoy!
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Marianne looked up at her new husband and felt the rise of pride in her bosom as he tossed another handful of golden coins into the sky. They rained down on the village children eliciting giggles and cheers as they hastily stuffed their pockets with enough money to buy all the candies and ribbons they could want. Marianne peered up into her husband's face. His eyes glistened in the mid afternoon sun. The lines around his smiling mouth that had once disqualified him from her affections now brought joy to her. His brown hair, just starting to have grey seep in at the temples was bleached golden by the sun and the hours he spent on horseback.
He smiled down at her and she felt her heart jump into her throat as her mind filled with the expectations and anxiousness of the coming evening, but her excitement was still larger and she returned his smile. He took his seat beside her and took one of her dainty hands in his large leather gloved ones. The carriage jolted forward as they began to move causing another joyous cry from the children and onlookers. Marianne peered out and waved to her mother one more time. She looked for her younger sister Margaret, but she was busy chasing around with streamers with the other girls her age. One more look afforded her a shared moment with her elder sister and closest friend Elinor.
Elinor stood next to her own husband Edward. Their own wedding had been only a month prior. Though only a few miles away, Marianne had desperately missed the constant closeness of her dear sister. In her new home she would again be within walking distance from Elinor, yet with both of them having young marriages she knew that the intimacy that had shared their whole lives was now forever changed.
She glanced again to her husband who was waving his last goodbyes to Sir John and Mrs. Jennings. The love she felt for him was strong and steady. It was so different from what she had felt for Willoughby. The fiery passions that had excited her breast had given way to the loyal affection of a good man who she knew would never leave her side come fortune or famine. She sincerely hoped that he would someday be the supreme confidant that had until now been her sister.
The carriage turned a corner and the crowds outside the Dorsetshire church disappeared. Leaving Marianne alone with Colonel Brandon and the coachman. Brandon looked down at their clasped hands then up into the eyes of his bride.
"Was the ceremony to your liking, my love?"
"Of course!" she squeezed his hands. "Edward did a splendid job in his first marriage ceremony. His oration has come such long way since the first time he read aloud to us at Norland."
Brandon chuckled and nodding encouraging Marianne to continue her story.
"I'm afraid I embarrassed him so when I stopped his reading to critique him. Elinor was sure to tell me I had been too harsh with him. And of course, I should have stopped to realize that any criticism of his reading reflected as a criticism of him."
"I do not think the incident proved too much of a hindrance and as the newest Mr. and Mrs. Ferrars seem to be very happy."
"To be sure," Marianne agreed. "And I am happy that you have never given me cause to question your reading."
"Thank you, my dear. I do attempt to put forth a passionate exercise whenever I am called upon."
Marianne's heart pounded at what she assumed was an intended double meaning on the part of her husband. She felt the blush grow in her cheeks and had to look away from her husband's piercing eyes. She thought she caught the hint of a smirk at his mouth confirming her guess that his entendre had been intentional.
She was saved from having to follow up her husband's candid comment by the carriage which had come to the crest of the final great hill. From their vantage she knew they could see the entirety of Colonel Brandon's vast estate. The nearest building was the smokehouse which started a path to the stables and carriage house. The far edge was defined by the small cottage which sat on the edge of the pond that she knew Brandon fished with Sir John. In the middle of the pastoral scene was the great house: Delaford.
It's great white columns stood proudly on the home of which Marianne was now mistress. She had been to Delaford a great many times on picnics and excursions, but approaching the house knowing it was to be her home filled her with emotion. It was even bigger than her childhood home of Norland and she knew the people of Dorsetshire looked to Delaford to be the center of the county now that a woman would be running the house.
As the carriage came down the hill and into the valley she felt the Colonel's hand on her waist over the silk of her wedding dress. She looked back at him and he was gazing at her. The light in his eyes was even brighter than usual. She saw him glance up toward that coachman and seeing that he was well engrossed in guiding the horses down the valley, Brandon leaned toward Marianne and gently placed his lips on hers.
It was not Marianne's first kiss. She had regrettably let John Willoughby kiss her on numerous occasions when they felt they had the privacy. Nor was it her first kiss with Colonel Brandon. She had kissed him on the evening of his return from town where he had sent her a pianoforte for the front room at Barton Cottage and again when she had accepted his proposal of marriage. Willoughby's kisses had always been quick and forceful, done in the heat of the moment with constant fear of being discovered by her sisters or mother. Her first kisses with Brandon had been swift and chaste; not void of feeling, but erring on the side of decorum and respectability.
But this kiss was entirely new. Brandon's lips were soft and warm and though he was tender and slow, she sensed the urgency behind his movements. She had expected him to kiss her then pull away, but instead he moved closer to her and placed one leather bound hand against her cheek. He looked into her face and gave her one of his crooked half smiles she'd come to love and he kissed her again. She placed her hand over his and gladly accepted. She felt the tip of his tongue against her lip and when she sighed it fluttered between her lips and into her own mouth.
After what felt like an eternity and yet no time at all, Brandon pulled his face away from Marianne's.
"Welcome home, Mrs. Brandon."
Marianne looked around her and the carriage had come to a stop. They were mere feet from the front door of the great house. The coachman was still sitting at the front of the carriage staring ahead. Marianne wondered if he had been instructed to do so.
The Colonel stood and exited the carriage. He held his hand to his young bride who gingerly stepped from the carriage to the rocky path. She smiled and took his arm. Brandon waved to the coachman who drove the carriage away and curved back toward the stables.
The couple walked to the house and the door opened to them. At the threshold Brandon stopped,
"May I?"
Marianne had a moment of confusion, but she rang out in peals of laughter as Colonel Brandon lifted her from her feet and carried her into their home.
"Colonel Brandon! This is not the first time you have carried me home," she reminded. "But this is a great deal more joyous than that day at Mr. Palmer's home in Cleveland."
"A very great deal," Brandon agreed setting her onto her feet.
