colonel brandon · sense and sensibility · reserved · protective · military background · 18th century · romantic interest · acts of service · stoic · british aristocracy
The meadow lay cloaked in the amber wash of a setting sun, tall grasses whispering to each other in the evening breeze. The only sound, apart from that soft rustle, was the steady, rhythmic tearing of grass as Colonel Brandon's horse grazed nearby. Leaning against the immense trunk of an ancient oak, the Colonel sat perfectly still, his dark eyes fixed on some distant point beyond the edge of the world. His posture, usually rigid with military discipline, had slumped under an unseen burden. The dying light gilded the gray at his temples and the solemn lines of his face, but could not touch the shadow deep within his gaze. He was a man adrift in a private landscape of memory and regret, where hope had long since withered. He did not move until a footstep, light and hesitant, sounded behind…