Second Attachments

When my love swears that she is made of truth,
I do believe her, though I know she lies,
That she might think me some untutor’d youth,
Unlearned in the world’s false subtleties.
Thus vainly thinking that she thinks me young,
Although she knows my days are past the best,
Simply I credit her false-speaking tongue:
On both sides thus is simple truth supprest.
But wherefore says she not she is unjust?
And wherefore say not that I am old?
O, love’s best habit is in seeming trust,
And age in love loves not to have years told:
Therefore I lie with her and she with me,
And in our faults by lies we flatter’d be.

William Shakespeare, Sonnet 138

“He’s doing better, isn’t he?” said Tom, smiling as he sat on the sofa by the fire.

Sir Thomas smiled too, and turned his face from the window to look at his son, who was surprising him every day with signs of instinct, interest, affection and intelligence that he had not shown before.

“It wasn’t difficult to guess, Father. You were looking at the orchard. Who else but Edmund and Fanny might be there, walking and talking? And your smile was unmistakable, too. I know that you were worried about Edmund’s spirits and everyone in this house can see how much better he is after these walks. Fanny does him good indeed.”

“Fanny is a blessing for all of us,” said Sir Thomas, proudly because he was as proud of her as any father could be of his daughter.

Each man smiled at the other and did not say another thing on the subject but both had the same thought: “Has Edmund realized that Fanny does him so much good? It is about time!”

Edmund Bertram had always acknowledged Fanny’s merits as a person, as a relative, as a confidante, and as a friend; but to tell the truth, he had never thought of her merits as a woman. Her soft eyes could not strike him; he had known them since she was ten. Her golden hair could not enchant him; he had caressed it for years, as a tender and protective cousin should do. When he met Mary Crawford, he almost forgot that his cousin was pretty.

Though few might agree with me, and most will accuse me of being partial, I must insist that Mary Crawford was not more beautiful than Fanny Price. She only had a unique way of making the others aware of her beauty, while Fanny totally lacked in that ability. Mary Crawford could not pass unseen or without gaining everyone’s admiration, while someone might spend some time with Fanny Price without noticing her, and afterwards he could scold himself as much as he wanted for not admiring such a woman.

The first who was trapped this way was the unfortunate Henry Crawford, who acknowledged Fanny’s merits when it was too late. Well, to be honest, even if he had proposed to her immediately after being introduced to her, he would not have a chance of winning her. The fact that an engaged woman was his first object only sank him more in Fanny’s esteem.

The fact that another woman was Edmund’s first object of admiration, infatuation, and, sad to say, even of love did not sink him in Fanny’s esteem; but then I guess that nothing could sink him in her esteem. Fanny had loved Edmund for years but no one was privy to the secret as there were no perceptive people in such matters at Mansfield Park.

The problem was that Edmund loved Mary Crawford and had most charmingly talked about his love, his fears, and his hopes to the patient Fanny for a long time. He seemed in despair when Mary teased him and left him in doubt of her feelings and he was blind to his beloved’s flaws; which were enough to make Fanny quite uneasy about him and his future happiness. Fanny loved him so much that the pain of losing him seemed nothing in comparison to the pain of watching him unhappy, as he would most certainly have been, had he married Miss Crawford. But although Mary was “The only woman in the world,” that he, “Could think of as a wife,” as he had written in a letter to Fanny, she never became Mrs. Edmund Bertram.

The reason why Edmund did not finally ask Miss Crawford to marry him is a sad story. The subject of much interest to society in London and around Mansfield park was thus: Mrs. Rushworth, the former Miss Bertram (Edmund’s sister), had run away with Henry Crawford (Mary’s brother). So Edmund had to open his eyes to Miss Crawford’s non-existing principles. She declared the wretched affair to be just a folly luckily to be forgotten by some. So, Edmund had to stop thinking of her as the woman with whom he would share his life as a clergyman. Indeed, after that even he had to acknowledge that Mary could not set the example for the other people.

At first, he felt very heart broken and he had to tell someone about his feelings and his lost hopes. Fanny was at hand, as always, and he imagined that she might understand him. Edmund suspected that though she never responded to Henry’s love and proposals, which he had promoted, she must have felt something in order to be disappointed of his inconstancy. So, Fanny spent most of her summer listening to the man she loved talking about his strong affection to Mary; which could never be transferred, as he thought, to another woman.

Fanny was worried about him. So was his father, Sir Thomas, and his brother, Tom, who was at a stage of rearranging of principles, feelings and priorities that summer; and had come to love dearly his affectionate brother. Lady Bertram was blessed with a total lack of discernment in those matters and could not be more at ease that summer, sitting with her beloved pug and being only “A little uncomfortable now that my sister, Mrs. Norris, is not here to agree that the weather is a little hot.”

It was in the middle of August when Tom and his father had the conversation above. It was at the end of August when the fourteen-year-old Susan Price, a newcomer to Mansfield with discernment, wrote in her journal: “It is crystal clear that Fanny loves Edmund. I believe that Edmund loves Fanny too, but, oh, how can I explain it? Well, let’s say that he doesn’t know that he loves her.”

It was at the end of September that Edmund started realizing that he didn’t care for Miss Crawford at all. It was true that he had not talked about her for three weeks and he had caught himself laughing aloud once or twice when he was with Fanny; something not at all proper for a man whose heart would never recover the blow. Edmund started thinking that something unusual was happening to his constant heart when a whole day passed completely comfortably, nay, even happily with Fanny. He had not regretted that Miss Crawford was not with him, and did not actually wish Miss Crawford to be there. He thought maybe he could find comfort in his loneliness, he could be tolerably happy without her, and with the support of his family and his dear Fanny, not let another woman enter his heart.

But the change of the weather at the end of September made a radical change to Edmund’s knowledge of his heart. It started raining. You cannot imagine what rain can do to reveal unconscious feelings. I am not referring to the effect of the rain on the mood, I am just talking about the practical inability of taking walks in the rain. Edmund was confined at Thornton Lacey, and with Fanny at Mansfield, they missed each other’s company exceedingly. Fanny knew very well why she was missing Edmund, but Edmund had yet to discover the reason.

“I can’t stand this rain anymore!” he said to himself, “I haven’t seen Fanny for three days. God knows how I’ve missed her. She is my only comfort… well it’s true that Miss Crawford does not haunt me as she used to. I need not to talk about her, nay; the thought of her does not affect me at all. I do not often think of her, I believe that this is the first time that I have thought about her this week. I haven’t dreamt of her for a long time. Actually,” he smiled, “Last night I dreamt of Fanny,” and then his smile faded.

Even someone so much blinded as he was, was struck by the fact that he had dreamt of another woman, that he had dreamt of Fanny. It had been such a pleasant dream! Fanny gathering fresh pink roses from the garden, her beautiful blue eyes laughing, and her blue bonnet totally becoming her blond hair. He smiled at the retrospection, and then became serious again. Something was changing in his heart and he could feel it, though he could not explain it - at first. A week later, full of rain as the previous had been, he was in a position to explain it and very eloquently, too.

“I have been a fool, the worst of fools! I cannot imagine a day without her, I cannot live without her, and I never could. Silly, silly me! I need her more than anyone. I just took her for granted and I never realized what life would be without her. Even when she went to Portsmouth, how exceedingly I missed her! Oh! To think that I wanted to send her to Norfolk, I actually advised her to love another man and what a man! I neglected her and I always talked about the other woman to her! I have told her that I could never love another woman and now I am desperately in love with her, with her eyes, her voice, her smile, her tenderness, her ideas, everything. I can’t tell her that, she will think me completely inconstant. But I was never inconstant. At least now I feel that I never loved another creature the way I love Fanny. Oh my God! Was I blind all those years? She’s more beautiful than anyone I have ever met. How could I fail to see this? Well, I do not deserve her. I’ll be content just sitting near her and loving her without asking anything more. This is all I ask for. I want nothing more. I am asking for nothing more.”

These were his arguments until the end of October. Even though Mr. Edmund Bertram was generally neither selfish nor greedy, what he had said, that had been enough for him, just didn’t seem enough in November. He searched for opportunities to be alone with Fanny and to talk with Fanny. The more time he was spending with her the more he wanted to spend all of his time with her. That became a torture and he could talk to no one about it. Less than four months earlier he professed himself utterly miserable because of another woman. How anyone could trust his feelings if he now admitted that Fanny was his first thought in the morning, the last in the evening and occupied most thoughts during the day, and all the dreams of the night. Wherever he went, she was with him. He became almost abstract during his sermon at Christmas while admiring her and worrying about the place not being warm enough for her.

Fanny was so sweet and so tender that Edmund was beginning to hope that maybe someday he might be given a chance to pursuit his happiness with her. He felt so much love for her, he wanted nothing but her happiness, and how could any intentions of his possibly harm her? While sitting at the Christmas table, he decided that the someday when he would start pursuing her would be that very day. He would sit with her and please her and make her feel something for him, something beyond friendship for him. For though everyone else in the house welcomed her friendship, generous and tender, that had become a burden for him. So, after dinner he sat by her and showed no intention of leaving the place or talking to anyone else. Julia and her husband were there, Tom was teasing Susan who, unlike Fanny, did not let that pass and so they had a fine time quarrelling, Sir Thomas was talking to Lady Bertram, but Edmund had eyes and speech only for Fanny.

“How do you like the snow Fanny? It has made our meetings quite difficult this week,” said he in hopes of listening to a warm speech against the snow that had deprived him of her company.

“Yes, it was bad that I could not see you. But can you imagine Christmas without snow?”

“Oh, yes I can imagine Christmas without snow, without dinner, without decoration and without presents, as long as you are with me!” he thought, but only murmured something in agreement with Fanny in return.

“So, what did you do on Christmas Eve?” he continued the conversation, though disheartened.

“Last night I missed you terribly Edmund! I wanted to have it like the previous years, sitting by the fire and reading with you, but I had to content myself with reading alone by the fire. I would have called for Susan, but she was very busy first attending my aunt and then planning some revenge for Tom. I do not know if I should laugh or scold her.”

“So Susan is to replace me?” said Edmund laughing outwardly and crying inwardly.

“Susan could never replace you. I can love no one the way I love you, Edmund,” thought Fanny, but said nothing.

“And what have you been reading?” he continued a rather painful conversation.

“You will laugh at me for rereading it for the tenth time, but I cannot lie to you. It was…”

“ …“Romeo and Juliet”, I am certain of that. I can picture you, sitting alone in the east room, near the fire half reading and half quoting, for you know it by heart, and crying inconsolably in the end. I wish I had been there to dry the tears away of your beautiful eyes and tell you that those two will be together in the eternity.”

“I wish you were, too, Edmund. Both dying! How sad! But I can understand why they had to die both. One could not live without the other. They could never feel happy with their beloved dead. Still, it was so sad!” she said in a reverie.

“Do you think,” he stammered, “that if Romeo had lived he could not love another? Would he not have the right to search for happiness with another woman?”

“My God, Edmund, how can you talk like that? Love another? Be happy with another? He could not be close to comfort even in a monastery!”

“But if he felt that he could be happy?” insisted Edmund, not believing that he was actually saying what he was saying.

“Please, Edmund, do not talk like this. I know that you are trying only to console me, but really I only feel worse. I cannot think so little of so much love. Romeo would not be my Romeo if he had cared for another.”

Edmund changed the subject and only rethought it at night to become miserable. But this was nothing in comparison with what happened to him only a week later.

It was New Year’s Day and he had gone to Mansfield Park. Fanny was not downstairs and he went to the east room to look for her. Fanny was also not in the east room; she was with Susan. As Edmund was leaving, he noticed some papers under the library. He picked them up, thinking that they were merely rubbish. But they weren’t. They were letters. Probably Fanny’s letters but nothing was certain because he could trace no name. How could they have been sent and delivered then? Who was writing to Fanny and why in that way? Of course, he had no right to read a letter that wasn’t his. However Edmund was really worried, he was frightened that someone - Henry Crawford perhaps was pressing and torturing his beloved Fanny. He had to do something. He had to read the letters. So he started reading the first and didn’t stop even when he realized that he was mistaken in supposing that something unpleasant was the matter. The first letter was dated four years back and these were its contents:

“Who is Marianne Dashwood?“ exclaimed Edmund utterly puzzled, “Who is this cousin? When did she meet you, Fanny? Oh, Fanny what is this mystery? I must read the others, too!”

“My dear Fanny, “ Edmund read. So, they are Fanny’s letters, Edmund despaired to find out.

“Who is this woman, my God? How does she influence Fanny? And yet, why am I so severe? Were they not my own words that the other was the only that I could think of as a wife? The sonnet and the steadiness and Romeo and Juliet! I’ve lost her; I’ve lost her forever! What is next?”

Edmund was pale when he had finished reading the third and last letter. His hopes had been crushed and he couldn’t accuse anyone but himself for his misery. Marianne Dashwood’s self reprimand had touched him deeply, her steadiness made him feel guilty. Still, he didn’t feel guilty of forgetting the other too soon. He felt bad that he had ever thought of the other. Whatever he might have felt, now he knew that only one woman in the world could make him happy and that woman was Fanny Price. But Fanny was the picture of steadiness and constancy and even if she liked him, she could never reward what would seem to her as inconstancy of heart. Every feature in his face betrayed unbearable pain and despair. He was sick of rhetoric professions of love and constancy and only wished that Fanny could look into his heart. She could not mistake him then. Could she only but look into his heart, she would have known that it was all hers. But as the only way to make her acquainted with his heart was by words, and Edmund had got sick of words, he decided to wait. Wait for what? he couldn’t tell.

He remained in the east room for a long time, gazing at everything that belonged to Fanny and that Fanny loved. He found the Sonnets and started reading the one closer to what he was feeling: “Farewell! Thou are too dear for my possessing…”* Hardly had he sighed over the phrase “Thus have I had thee, as a dream doth flatter, in sleep a king, but waking no such matter,”* than Tom entered the room.

“Edmund, where have you been? John and Julia are taking leave. We’ve been searching for you all over the house. Poor Fanny is terrified.”

Tom’s air was reprimanding but when he saw his brother’s pale looks and noticed that he was unable to answer, his voice lost all of its strictness and he added with tenderness:

“Are you all right brother? Is anything bothering you? Can I do anything for you?”

“No, thank you, I am quite all right,” said the mouth but not the eyes, “but, can you answer me a question? Do you know who Marianne Dashwood is?”

“I have not the slightest idea,” said Tom, very puzzled, but unwilling to upset his brother with further questions.

“Fine, let’s go and bid Julia and her husband goodbye then,” said Edmund and opened the door only to fall upon Julia who was entering.

“There you are at last! Thank Goodness, Fanny will recover now that you are found.”

“Julia, do you know who Marianne Dashwood is?” said Tom, in order to revive his brother, but rather deteriorating his condition.

“You do puzzle me exceedingly. Marianne Dashwood was our teacher’s (Miss Lee’s) cousin and had visited Mansfield once. Actually she liked Fanny very much and I believe she was writing to her through Miss Lee. Maria and I had discovered it although Marianne had made her swear not to tell a soul about it - it was more dramatic like that, she said. But what has this to do with your disappearance?”

“Well, it was too long ago when Miss Marianne Dashwood came. I believe it was a few months after Fanny settled here. But, Edmund how do you know her? Why has she upset you that much?”

Edmund said nothing and left the room while Julia and Tom looked at each other and wondered.

Three months passed in a state of sadness with instances of hope for Edmund, while Fanny learnt to enjoy her cousin’s company without minding some sudden bursts and looks that had alarmed her when they first appeared just after Christmas. Not a word had passed between them concerning the letters or Miss Marianne Dashwood, although God knows how impatient Edmund was to ask her. Easter was coming and it would be the first anniversary of a flying away that everyone in Mansfield wished forgotten. Nobody talked about it but the grim looks on the faces were saying, “Only a year ago! I wish I could travel back and change everything!”

Edmund’s thoughts were not exactly the above. He wished he could change every circumstance that marked his acquaintance with the Crawfords; he wished that he had never met the Crawfords, that he had never slighted Fanny for Mary; that he had never thought of Mary as a wife. He felt that during the whole of their relationship there was a veil over his face, a mist in his mind that did not let him see or think clear. Now, everything was clear. His love for Fanny was a sentiment that he was proud of, a sentiment that he valued more than anything. She had no faults for him to try to justify, no lack of virtue or principles for him to overlook. Even if she never returned his feelings, they had a reason for existing: they were precious.

He tried to spend a lot of time with Fanny, aspiring to nothing but the pleasure of her company. There were times when he could not stand it, when he wanted to talk to her, to kiss her and caress her, there were nights that he could hardly say goodbye and go home. Still, he endured everything just to be near her. And the fact that he could not talk to anybody about his feelings only made them deeper, that fact made the feelings part of his nature while the infatuation with Miss Crawford seemed something distant and superficial. How long he could go on like that he could not say but he was trying hard.

One evening in March he went to Mansfield to visit as usual but it started raining. It was so cold and damp that even Lady Bertram “wished that he had not to go back to Thornton Lacey.” Sir Thomas insisted on Edmund’s staying there for the night and was soon joined by Fanny, Tom, and Susan. How could Edmund deny Fanny’s entreaties to stay?

They had a comfortable evening sitting around the fire and talking about the happy news Julia had just sent them, announcing that Sir Thomas and Lady Bertram were soon to be grandparents and they retired to their rooms quite late. Still Edmund could not sleep with Fanny being near and he decided to go to the East Room and find comfort in Shakespeare. When he entered the room, however, he realized that there would be no comfort for him there. Fanny was there and was looking towards the direction where he had found Marianne Dashwood’s letters.

“My dear Fanny, what are you doing here so late? And without a fire, too! You must go back to bed!”

Fanny startled and looked very embarrassed, but managed to say, “I was arranging my correspondence and some old letters were missing. I thought they would be here. But, Edmund, what are you doing here?”

“Perhaps I will read the sonnet 116, which is your favorite, as it expresses your beliefs,” he said bitterly.

“My favorite? My beliefs? Edmund, what are you talking about?” Fanny was at a loss.

“…‘Love is not love which alters when it alteration finds or bends with the remover to remove.’ You do not believe that attachments may transfer, do you Fanny?” he said while his heart was beating faster than ever.

“Oh, Fanny, why? Why should a blunder, an idle infatuation, a silliness deprive me of happiness for the rest of my life?”

Fanny said nothing and he continued, “I have made mistakes Fanny. I have slighted you and been blind to your merits and forgotten your needs. I hate myself for all these. Could I change everything I most happily would. But I cannot change the past. It must stand as an ever reproof for me. But I do not wish to talk to you about the past. I do not want the past to be the only judge of my future. Yes, Fanny I want to talk you about present and future. I love you Fanny, you cannot imagine how much I love you. I did not always know it but I know it now. I cannot imagine my life without you. I do not wish to press you. If my friendship is the only thing you can accept, it is yours forever. But, do you think that you could ever love me? Do you think that I have some hope of ever winning the sweetest of hearts?”

Fanny could say nothing at first. She thought she could not stand it. The exquisite happiness to know that her cousin’s heart was free of Miss Crawford only to be surpassed by the knowledge that his heart was hers. It was too much for words. It was too much for her. It was as if her whole life started at that moment - and what a promising life that was! She could not but cry and no cheeks were ever more willing to accept such tears of joy!

Edmund saw and did not understand but there was a strange feeling in his breast. The agony of an answer was mixed with a heavenly peace after having talked. His love for Fanny was getting even stronger yet he grew worried by her tears.

“Dear Fanny, please do not cry. Please, do not make me feel worse for upsetting you. You have to say nothing, nothing at all. Go to bed and have rest and do not be unhappy. All I want is your happiness.”

“Oh, Edmund, you have no idea, you cannot imagine…how happy you’ve made me!” she blushed deeply and could not say another word.

It was Edmund’s turn to feel that the happiness he tasted was more than he could stand, but he tried to remain calm in order to be assured that he wasn’t dreaming. He had to hear the magic words spoken.

“Can love you?” she repeated, “I do love you Edmund, I wish you knew how much I love you.”

‘Oh, Fanny do you really mean that? And all those things you’ve said about first attachments?”

Edmund listened in awe. To have this angel accepting his love was too much already. But to hear her telling that she loved him; that she had always loved him, gave birth to a feeling that he couldn’t define - exquisite happiness wasn’t strong enough an expression for it.

“My dear Fanny… my darling…my love…” was all that he could say while he took her hand in his own and pressed it, caressed her skin and then brought it to his lips and kissed it with tenderness. Fanny closed her eyes; then opened them again and gave a sigh, but a look into her eyes was enough to ascertain her joy and delight. It was Edmund’s turn to say what would give a thrilling to both. Looking into her eyes, smiling at first but then with the utmost seriousness he said, “I do not deserve you, Fanny, as no human can deserve an angel. But if you accept my offer I promise that I will do everything in my power to be worthy of your gift…your love,’ and after a very short pause, when time seemed to have stopped, “Fanny Price, will you marry me?”

“Yes,” she cried feeling that her heart would stop, and fell into the arms that were waiting for her.

“My love, God bless you and reward you for making me the happiest of mortals!” cried Edmund, “after such suspense to know that you love me! What have I done to deserve so much happiness?”

“Edmund, you deserve everything that is possible to be bestowed on a man! That I should be able to give you happiness was more than I could ever dream of!”

“I love you, Fanny. Oh, if you could know the despair I felt when I learnt that you considered the correction of a mistake as inconstancy!”

Fanny began to realize why her beloved acted and talked so strangely the last months. She smiled and asked, “has this to do with poor Romeo? And… sonnet 116?”

“And Miss Marianne Dashwood’s letters,” added Edmund and explained everything to Fanny who was happy enough to overlook indiscreetness.

“Oh, Edmund, how wrong you were! I was only referring to my love for you, which is unchangeable. Besides, I prefer sonnet 138. It may be disappointing in the beginning, but it is closer to earthly happiness. It shows a striking maturity in love and companionship that a lot would envy.”

Edmund could not recall the sonnet at that moment, but had another inquiry to make,“ what happened to Miss Dashwood, my darling? Did she find peace of mind?”

Fanny smiled as she answered, “she is Miss Dashwood no longer, Edmund. She is Mrs. Brandon.”

“The Colonel in pain?” exclaimed Edmund unbelievingly, secretly swearing that he would swear no more as far as human nature was concerned. Then he laughed along with Fanny.

After the above phrases were repeated too many times even for the author’s romantic heart to count them, they agreed that they had to go to bed and count the seconds until they would meet again at breakfast. Edmund took the sonnets with him, without Fanny noticing it.

In his room, he brought the scene before him again, as he would do for the rest of his life. Then he opened the book and read the sonnet 138. The smile that was formed on his face after he had finished it did not go even the few hours that he slept.

“Mr. Edmund instructed me to come, ma’am, and help you to anything you need. He is downstairs and said that he is waiting for you. He told me to give you this, ma’am,” and she handed Fanny a piece of paper where she read:

Fanny did something between smiling and crying and went downstairs to begin her new day and her new life as soon as possible.

Second Attachments

By Elsa

William Shakespeare, Sonnet 138