Chapter Text
Evelyn
Norland Park, a large estate settled in the Sussex countryside, boasted a peaceful tranquillity much enjoyed by all its residents, or it did. Upon the death of Mr Henry Dashwood, the estate in its entirety had now passed to his only son Mr John Dashwood who has evidently grown to be a rather selfish and cold-hearted man. Evelyn wasn’t entirely sure when this change in her elder brother had occurred, certainly he had been a little self-centred on the few occasions the two halves of Mr Henry Dashwood’s family had cause to come together, but he had at least conducted himself with propriety. This propriety seemed to have been misplaced or perhaps removed by his wife Mrs Fanny Dashwood, who had just arrived with their young son and what appeared to be all the family’s belongings long before the mourning period for the late Mr Dashwood was over, a clear statement that the estate now belonged to them and that Evelyn and her family should leave at the earliest opportunity. Their abrupt arrival so soon after father’s passing and without any notice had instilled Mama with a hatred for the couple the likes of which Evelyn had never before witnessed. It was only due to Elinor, the eldest of the four Dashwood daughters, and her even temper that Mama was convinced not to leave Norland that very moment now that it had been made clear they were all little more than unwelcome houseguests.
Marianne, the second youngest of the four girls, was the most obvious with her dislike of Norland’s new owners, speaking to them only when it cannot be avoided and always with the iciest tone possible. Margaret, Evelyn’s youngest sister, had exercised her right as the youngest child to act without propriety and simply hide from not only the couple but most of Norland’s inhabitants as well. Evelyn herself endeavoured to only speak when directly spoken to, and whilst Elinor would have appreciated the help making conversation Evelyn believed she deserved credit for not reacting to Fanny’s thinly veiled jabs at her. Indeed, Evelyn was currently evading Fanny, and her constant comments about the rather disastrous time Evelyn had spent in London eighteen months ago, by looking for Margaret. Evelyn was out in the knoll of old walnut trees where the treehouse was nestled having spotted a head of golden curls hurrying out there shortly after breakfast, no doubt hoping the morning mist would hide her journey from watching eyes.
Gathering her skirts and not much caring how improper it is for a young lady to be climbing trees; Evelyn used the rope ladder to clamber her way up into Maragret’s favourite refuge. Margaret was sitting on the wooden floor restringing the small training bow their father had once given Evelyn, causing a small somewhat melancholy smile to form on Evelyn’s lips.
“We agreed you were only allowed to take the bow out when accompanied by father or myself” Evelyn said as she sidled over to sit beside her sister.
“But if I leave it inside, she’ll take it like she’s taking everything else.”
Evelyn’s heart ached as she looked around the little treehouse to see a neat pile of belongings along the opposite side. Momentarily leaving Margaret to her bow, Evelyn looked through the collection to see her own long bow along with several pieces of Marianne’s sheet music and Elinor’s watercolours. If her heart could break any more it would have at the touching sight and the notion that this was the only place Margaret felt safe enough to keep them.
“ They may have taken our home and sickness may have taken Father but we are not going anywhere” Evenlyn said as she tucked Margaret into a side hug.
“But still you’re all probably going to get married soon and then it will just be me and Mama” the younger said as she rested her head on Evelyn’s breast.
“Well, given that my only foray into the marriage mart ended in spectacular failure, I believe you only really need to worry about Elinor and Marianne leaving. After all, unless society suddenly decides that looking like a ghost is desirable I doubt many suitors will be calling on me.” Evelyn tried for a conspiratorial tone as she said this but it clearly didn’t have the desired effect as a now teary-eyed Margaret looked up at her.
“Of course you’ll get married, you’re beautiful like Marianne and Elinor, and then you’ll run off to the other side of the world with your new husband and I’ll be left alone.” Margarets words were beginning to take on a nasal quality as she inched closer to crying.
“Well then, I promise that should I marry I will force my new husband to either allow you to come with me or to move our marital home as close to you as possible” Margaret finally let out a small giggle at that.
“How about I go and change and then we can have an archery lesson?” Evelyn suggested eliciting an enthusiastic agreement from the smaller Dashwood.
Climbing down from the treehouse, Evelyn felt her smile drop slightly as she thought about Margaret’s words. Just a couple of years ago she would have felt hopeful, perhaps even a little excited at the idea of marriage, but after her time in London the kind words of her sister fell flat. As Evelyn changed into the adapted riding habit she used when shooting she couldn’t help but indulge in some small amount of vanity. Gazing into the mirror atop her dressing table Evelyn secured her pale blonde hair in a more stable bun, tucking most of her loose curls into the style and out of her face. While her skin was fair enough to be in fashion, the combination of her pale blue eyes, light skin and hair had caused a number of the other ladies in London to refer to her as a ghost. This was sadly not the worst thing she had been called during the three awful months she spent in the capital. The worst came from those who felt that her lips were too dark in colour and altogether too red to be natural, nothing could convince them that the colour is in fact natural. That particular comment escalated into cruel comments alluding to Evelyn wearing heavy makeup much like a prostitute which thoroughly dashed any hopes she had of finding a good match. Many times Evelyn wished she possessed Elinor's quiet beauty, with her soft brown eyes, downy flaxen hair and delicate complexion. Or perhaps the brightness of Margaret, with her wild mass of golden curls and rosy cheeks. But no, Evelyn fell into a similar category as Marianne, she supposed, as both of them tended to be described as striking but even then the term seemed to sound more favourable for Marianne’s dark blue eyes and light brown ringlets as opposed to her own pale countenance.
Pulling herself from her less than pleasant musings, Evelyn made her way back towards the treehouse and her now much more cheerful sister.
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Shortly after Fanny’s arrival at Norland the Dashwood sisters' displeasure grew even further as the dreadful woman asked for the key to the silverware, the purpose for which Marianne surmised, was to count it. During luncheon one day the atmosphere worsened further as Fanny announced that her brother, a Mr Edward Ferrars, would be breaking his journey to London with them at Norland. The news was met with stiffening posture from the Dashwood women, Fanny broke the subsequent silence rather quickly by asking Mama if Margaret wouldn’t mind giving up her room for the duration of Edward’s stay. The outrage at the order disguised as a request was palpable even though Fanny only received a polite, if stilted, nod from Mama in answer.
The man himself arrived at Norland not but a handful of days after his sister and thankfully seemed to possess an opposite disposition to his awful sister. Edward Ferrars was a quiet man who often stumbled over his words leaving the Dashwood women at somewhat of a loss as they were all expecting a far more pompous and self-important man given Fanny’s descriptions of her brothers. Indeed dear Edward assuaged Evelyn’s concerns fairly quickly by insisting he be housed in the guest quarters, he even seemed to allow Marianne’s pointed comment regarding his view.
One afternoon, Margaret having once again disappeared to the concern of all, the remaining Dashwood women were perusing the available listings for their new home. Elinor, ever the practical one, pointed out that we would not require anything as large as four bedrooms when we can share just two. Evelyn caught the fleeting look of horror cross Marianne’s deep blue eyes and squeezed her hand in reassurance. Both Marianne and Mama’s input to the discussion had thus far proven to be more luxurious than they could now afford. Evelyn could see the slight furrowing of Elinor’s brow, a sure sign that she was feeling the burden coming to rest on her shoulders, as such burdens often did. The timely intervention of dear Edward was most welcome and Evelyn once again felt indebted to the man for providing her eldest sister with a much needed distraction.
The house search currently stalled left Evelyn with an unexpectedly free afternoon. Not wanting to tempt fate Evelyn hurried up to her room to change into her shooting gear and this time collected her rifle and the various accoutrements before heading out for some light target practice. She was only 30 minutes in when Marianne settled on the garden chair their father used to occupy during their lessons.
“Tell me dearest sister, do you find some sort of catharsis in shooting that thing or is it the inevitable solitude from the noise the blasted thing makes that you enjoy?” A smile crept onto Evelyn’s face at Marianne’s dislike of the rifle.
“Oh ‘tis most definitely the catharsis dearest darling sister, of hitting my new favourite target right between her eyes.” Evelyn said as she lined up another shot and fired. The loud crack of the gun made Marianne quickly cover her ears whilst shooting a glare at Evelyn’s back.
“Ugh, even I know it’s basic shooting etiquette to give a warning before you fire oh dearest darling sister of mine.” Marianne said with just enough laughter in her expression that Evelyn knew she would pay for her stunt later. “Besides, you shoot those same targets every week, what could be so special about them now?”
Evelyn could no longer suppress her laughter as she lay down the rifle in a safe position and held up the top sheet from the pile to her left.
“I may have made a few alterations to the targets” she said as she held up the crudely drawn caricature of Fanny for Marianne to see.
Evelyn’s artistic endeavours were rewarded with a cackle that forced itself from Marianne’s lips and only abated once she’d run out of breath.
“So is that why you abandoned us after dinner last evening?” Marianne said between gasps of laughter. “And here I thought Elinor was the only artist in the family.”
The following hour saw several of the crude drawings gain a variety of punctures between the fits of laughter from the two sisters. Marianne seemed much more in favour of Evelyn’s shooting given its current direction and now that Evelyn had provided her with some cotton to stuff in her ears she didn’t mind the sound nearly so much. Evelyn for her part made sure to make a greater show of lining up her shots after startling Marianne the first few firings. All in all the afternoon turned out to be far more enjoyable than either of them had expected.
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In the months that followed Evelyn packed away her rifle and bow in their respective cases and tried to focus on the things she wouldn’t be able to bring with her, namely the cello and the violin which technically belonged to the estate even though neither instrument had seen any regular use for years before she’d taken them up. Ordinarily she would have spent much of the summer months outdoors but she no longer had the heart to tend to her garden, this led to Evelyn spending more time with Marianne in the music room. She would also have spent this time with Margaret or Elinor but the latter was currently buried under a pile of listings and both seemed to be spending their free time with Edward. Evelyn was starting to feel almost guilty given how much of the man’s time was being taken up by the youngest Dashwood, who was apparently now learning the art of swordplay which she would need when she was sailing across the globe as a pirate captain. Although it was endearing to see how the attention the man showed to her youngest sister, it was the time he spent with Elinor that was of most interest to Evelyn. Thus, in an effort to relieve her guilt and definitely not because of any pact Evelyn may have made with Marianne to give the couple as much time together as possible, Evelyn kept Margaret as occupied as she could. Her efforts seemed to be paying off as now it was evident from the earnest and almost wistful look that came over the man’s face whenever he caught sight of Elinor that he was becoming quite infatuated with her elder sister.
As the weeks passed the attachment forming between Elinor and Edward became ever clearer. The pair could often be spotted sharing a walk or ride through the grounds of the estate. The sight of them never failed to bring a smile to Evelyn’s face, her joy at seeing her eldest sister happy was only rivaled by her relief that her youngest sister had seemingly come out of her grief, a change in her family once again brought on by Mr Ferrars.
One particular evening following the rather awkward reading Marianne had forced upon poor Edward, Evelyn heard Marianne enter Elinor’s bedroom reading one of the romantic poems she adored. Being the ever dutiful younger sister she was, Evelyn quickly took up a place at the door to eavesdrop. While the poem was a little too fanciful for Evelyn’s taste she could still appreciate the sentiment behind the words. Giving her sisters some time for their own conversation Evelyn listened in for the right moment to join.
“What a pity it is that Edward has no passion for reading,” Marianne states rather bluntly.
“You asked him to read, then you made him nervous,” Elinor replied with a perhaps justified measure of reprimand.
“Me?” Marianne for her part seemed genuinely surprised at Elinor’s admonishment.
“Yes. Since your behaviour towards him in all other respects is perfectly cordial, I must assume that you like him in spite of his deficiencies” Evelyn felt her lips pull up in a smirk at the dry wit Elinor often employed when Marianne or Mama were being particularly fanciful.
“I think him… everything that is amiable and worthy.” The pause in Marianne’s sentiment was rather telling and something Elinor naturally picked up on.
“Praise, indeed.” Evelyn winced at the disapproving tone in Elinor’s voice, a sure sign that Marianne was getting close to being removed from the bedchamber should she continue in such a way.
“But he shall have my unswerving devotion when you tell me that he is to be my brother.” Marianne said, the truth of her words shining through. “How shall I do without you?”
“Do without me?”
“I’m sure you will be very happy, but you must promise not to live too far away.”
“Marianne, there is no question of… That is, there is… There is no understanding” Elinor stuttered.
“Do you love him?” Evelyn froze at Marianne’s question, not daring to breathe lest she miss the answer.
“I do not intend to deny that I think very highly of him. That I… greatly esteem him.” Elinor replied in the halting way Evelyn knew meant that there were thousands more words she’d left unsaid. “I like him.” With that final small statement Evelyn knew that Elinor was most definitely in love and that her fear of that love being unrequited was equally great.
“Esteem him? Like him? Use those insipid words again and I shall leave the room this instant” Marianne appeared not to be able to read the truth behind Elinor’s words.
“Very well, forgive me. I believe my feelings to be stronger than I have declared but further than that you must not believe” Elinor’s reply all but confirmed Evelyn’s suspicions regarding Elinor’s true feelings. As she heard Marianne start to leave the room all while lightly admonishing Elinor with the words she found so insipid, Evelyn ducked back into her own room and waited for Marianne to clear the corridor. Once the coast was clear Evelyn crept into Elinor’s room herself.
“I don’t find your words insipid” she said as she settled herself beside Elinor on the bed.
“Is it too much to ask that I might have a private conversation?” Elinor replied as she rested her head on Evelyn’s shoulder. “I suppose you’re here to express your own opinions?”
“Firstly, there are four of us, privacy is practically nonexistent.” Evelyn said, a slight chuckle colouring her voice. “And secondly, my opinion is just that but I do believe it could be quite helpful.”
Elinor simply looked up at her in response, the indication to continue clear on her face.
“I think that it’s perfectly understandable for you to wonder whether your feelings are returned.” Elinor huffed at that and made to remove her head and turn away before Evelyn quickly placed a gentle hand on her chin to halt her movements. “But, if you saw the way he looks at you when he believes no one is watching, I don’t believe there would be a single doubt in your mind over his affection.”
With that final statement Evelyn pressed a kiss to her sister’s forehead and went back to her own bed.
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It was only a few days later that Elinor and Edward suffered a large setback. Mama had sworn both Evelyn and Marianne into strictest confidence as she told the pair of the conversation she’d had with Fanny that afternoon. Well, conversation was a strong word for what was really another of Fanny’s reminders of her and her family’s superiority over theirs. This one however had made plain that regardless of Edward’s feelings, his family would never approve of Elinor now that they were of such lower means. This incident had been the deciding factor that pushed Mama to announce our move to Devonshire in the coming days. They were to move to a small house on the estate of one Sir John Middleton, Mama’s cousin. The crestfallen look on Edward’s face was almost enough for Evelyn to confess the true reason for their sudden departure but ultimately she felt that it would be cruel to spring Edward with a choice between the woman he loves and his prospects. It was Margaret who provided a small ray of hope by securing a promise from Edward that he would come visit them when they were happily installed in Barton Cottage.
Much of the time before their departure was spent packing and often determining what they had to leave behind. For Marianne and Evelyn it was their instruments and the library, for Margaret it was her treehouse and her atlas, and for Elinor it was her horse, while the chestnut mare would have been useful they could not possibly afford her upkeep and so she would stay in her stable at Norland. Evelyn, having taken a que from Margaret, was making sure that they packed more than clothes and basic living necessities. As such, she was currently in the small plant nursery she had set up in the grounds gathering the journals she’d written containing all her notes regarding the proper way to care for certain plants. Almost on a whim Evelyn also took a cutting off her wisteria and planted it in a small pot with hopes that its addition to Barton cottage would make the place feel more like home.
Eventually their day of departure had finally come and the Dashwoods took one final look at their former home just before boarding the carriage that would take them to Barton Cottage.