“No, I’d better not go outside today,” said Colonel Brandon, buttoning up his flannel waistcoat. “It’s under 50 degrees (farenheit) and I might catch a chill. Maybe I’ll just ring up Searle*(who I’ve hired away from my soul mate, Mr. Woodhouse) and get him to soft-boil an egg for me.”
Just then, Marianne walked into the room. “I’m going for a long walk,” she announced, eager to get out of the house and away from her fuddy-duddy, wet blanket husband.
“Oh, my dear!” said Brandon. “Do be careful! If you must go out, make sure you wear a dozen or two layers of flannel, or you will be certain to have twinges of rheumatism!”
“I never have twinges of rheumatism, mainly because I’m only 22 years old,” replied Mrs. Brandon. Her husband was only 40, but he already acted like a man of twice those years. Marianne remembered in horror how she and Willoughby had completely figured out the good Colonel, but how, in her heartbreak, she had married the Colonel anyway in a lapse of judgment she had come to rue.
“I wonder what Willoughby is up to,” thought Marianne, who had slept alone for some months now, while her husband used hot mustard plasters on his aching feet. Little did Mrs. Brandon know that her path was about to cross Willoughby’s once more……