My mother is always in excellent health, thank you. My brother Robert is in town with her this season and quite the most popular bachelor in London. He has his own barouche.
Indeed yes. Edward is the elder and Mamma quite depends upon him. He’s traveling up from Plymouth shortly and will break his journey here.
Mrs. Dashwood, Miss Dashwood, Miss Marianne – my brother, Edward Ferrars.
They’re all exceedingly spoilt, I find. Miss Margaret spends all her time up trees and under furniture. I’ve barely had a civil word from Marianne.
That is no excuse.
We have great hopes for him. Much is expected of him by our mother with regard to his profession.
Love is all very well, but unfortunately we cannot always rely on the heart to lead us in the most suitable directions. You see, my dear Mrs. Dashwood, Edward is entirely the kind of compassionate person upon whom penniless women can prey. And having entered into any understanding, he would never go back on his word. He’s simply incapable of doing so, but it would lead to his ruin. I worry for him so, Mrs. Dashwood. My mother has made it perfectly plain that she would withdraw all financial support from Edward should he choose to plant his affections in less… exalted ground than he deserves.
People always live forever when there is an annuity to be paid them.
My only real concern is how long it will take them to move out.
I have never liked the smell of books.
