Expectations of Happiness by Rebecca Ann Collins

they were drawn into discussions of places to stay and sites to visit, which kept them agreeably occupied all evening.

Chapter Four
    Delaford Manor was by any measure a valuable property, with several established tenancies, plenty of excellent pasture, and some of the finest woods in this part of the country. While these qualities were appreciated by those who knew and understood such matters, to the lady of the manor, Mrs Brandon, they were not immediately apparent.
    For Marianne, Norland Park was the standard by which all estates were to be judged, and while admitting that Colonel Brandon’s could be considered valuable when viewed in a commercial light, she found nothing here to compare with her memories of “dear Norland,” where she had spent all of her early life. It was the place she would always associate with the varied experiences of childhood, of growing up and discovering the pleasures of painting and poetry, of romantic music and literature.
    The trees at Norland Park were, as she remembered them, more majestic, the sweeping grounds more extensive, the prospect of distant hills and downs more exquisitely appealing in the morning mist, than anything the West Country could offer. Together, they had provided the appropriate background for the exercise of her romantic imagination, and indeed, their appeal had only increased with the passing years.
    As for the house, while Colonel Brandon’s manor house was an edifice of solid construction in russet brick, with generous accommodation and many comfortably furnished rooms, it had neither the architectural style nor the nostalgic charm of Norland. There she had learned from childhood to admire and love every prospect and discover the fascination of each well-appointed room. Norland possessed for Marianne, as it did for her mother, Mrs Dashwood, a grace that no other place could match. Certainly Delaford, for all its advantages, could never surpass it.
    She said nothing of this to anyone, especially not to her devoted husband, but these perceptions rankled as she tried to settle into life as the mistress of Delaford Manor—a role for which she had had little preparation.
    Marianne had enjoyed immensely the feeling of being cherished and adored by a man who loved her dearly. Colonel Brandon had been there, strong, reliable, and loving, as she had emerged from the nightmare of Willoughby’s betrayal, emotionally ravaged and physically exhausted after a near-fatal bout of fever. He had offered her his devotion and a comfortable marriage—a safe haven, which she had entered with gratitude and affection, though without the hopes of rapture such as she had imagined with Willoughby.
    And in the years following their wedding, her husband continued to be loving, kind, and devoted to her, and there was not one thing she could complain of in his treatment of her or in the comfort and style of life afforded her at Delaford. Over the years, nothing very much had changed, which probably explained why Marianne, her beauty now fully recovered, who tended to view her life as though she were a character in a novel, had begun to feel rather bored with her role as the mistress of Delaford Manor.
    Wearied by the unvarying pace of her existence, she had been wondering how she would occupy her time as summer ended and Colonel Brandon travelled to Ireland to attend to his estates there.
    He had persuaded her on one occasion—quite early in their life together—to accompany him, but the cold and damp had not suited her delicate constitution at all; she had become unwell, and they had had to return early to England as a consequence. Much medication and several weeks at Lyme Regis, taking the sea air, had been needed to restore both her health and her spirits.
    Thereafter, Colonel Brandon had always gone alone, reluctantly leaving Marianne to occupy herself at Delaford. It was usually a very pleasant time of year, with the harvests being gathered in and village