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Chapter Thirteen Posted on Saturday, 21 April 2001
Fanny and Julia took deep breaths, telling themselves that there was nothing to be afraid of.
Be afraid. Be very afraid
Their jumbled nerves were not helped by the knock. Fanny took another breath. "Come in," she said, just loud enough to be heard from the other side of the door.
The door opened, and it was Sir Thomas who entered. "Fanny? Ah, Julia you with her."
"Yes, father. We have been talking here since breakfast." Both stood as Julia spoke.
"Well," said Sir Thomas, closing the door, "then you shall share in what I have come to speak to Fanny about. Sit down, my dears. I must to you, Fanny, for a few minutes, but I will not detain you long."
And now, a scene that can't be over with soon enough.
The girls obeyed, and waited as Sir Thomas sat in the chair next to Julia and across from Fanny.
No suspicion had entered their minds.
"You are not aware, perhaps, that I have had a visitor this morning. I had not been long in my own room, after breakfast, when Mr. Crawford was shown in. His errand you may probably conjecture."
Fanny and Julia's colour turned pale, and expressions of pure shock flooded their faces. Sir Thomas could not understand it; indeed, both of them looked horrified. He turned his eyes and without any further pause proceeded in his account of Mr. Crawford's visit.
What?! Cannot you see your niece's feelings on the matter?! BLOCKHEAD!
Mr. Crawford's business had been to declare himself the lover of Fanny,
A title he deserved not.
makes decided proposals for her,
Not understanding she meant what she said.
and entreat the sanction of the uncle, who seemed to stand in place of her parents;
And whom could secure what Henry wanted...
... or so he thinks.
and he had done it all so well, so openly, so liberally, so properly,
So falsely.
that Sir Thomas, feeling, moreover, his own replies, and his own remarks to have been very much to the purpose, was exceedingly happy to give the particulars of their conversation, and little aware of what was passing in his niece's and daughter's mind, conceived, that by such details he must be gratifying them far more than himself.
*sigh* How little he knows them. What a pity for Fanny and her true friends.
He talked, therefore, for several minutes, without Fanny or Julia daring to interrupt him. They were in too much confusion. How, they both wondered, is it possible that he could entertain the idea? How can he actually feel anything of the sort? Their dismay and disbelief was such that they barely heard what Sir Thomas said and were unaware of when he ceased for a moment. They had barely become conscious of it when he rose and said, "And now, Fanny, having performed one part of my commission, and shown you everything placed on a basis the most assured and satisfactory, I may execute the remainder by prevailing on you to accompany me downstairs, where, though I cannot but presume on having been no unacceptable companion myself, I must submit to your finding one still better worth listening to. Mr. Crawford, as you have perhaps foreseen, is yet in the house. He is in my room, and hoping to see you there."
HEAVENS, NO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
There was such looks, starts, and exclamations, on hearing this, which astonished Sir Thomas; but his astonishment increased when Fanny jumped up and exclaimed in a most horrified manner: "Oh! No, sir, I cannot go down to him! It is out of my power, quite out of my reason, to have a good opinion of him! He must know after what I said yesterday that I cannot believe him. How can he possibly expect me to suppose him serious after all I have seen him do, after all I have heard him say, after all the false looks of -"
"I say, Fanny!" Her uncle's exclamation was enough to silence Fanny. Julia herself was amazed at how much Fanny had said in shock, but all she could do was sit in shock as her father said, "I do not understand you, Fanny." He sat back down. "Out of your power to return his good opinion" What is all this? I know he spoke to you yesterday, and (as far as I understand) received as much encouragement to proceed as a well-judging young woman could permit herself to give. I was very much pleased with what I collected to be your behavior on the occasion; it showed discretion highly to be commended. But now, when he has made his overtures so properly, and honuorably - what are your scruples now?"
Words cannot express the feelings of the readers as many want to shake HC till he drops. Others look for a good gong mallet.
Fanny and Julia were incredulous. How can he have forgotten the punch? "Encouragement to proceed?" What is THIS?! "You are mistaken, sir," Fanny cried, desperate to explain. "How can Mr. Crawford say such a thing? I gave him no encouragement yesterday. He made his overtures right after telling me about William (which to me was working off of my gratitude over William's promotion) and was arrogant enough to presume that I was aware of serious feelings towards myself. I do not know how he can presume that I would believe any professions of regard from him as he knows I have seen his behavior towards my cousins. He never showed any sign of real regard for me, and even if he did I would not believe him. I was in such shock and disbelief yesterday that I was unable to give as strong a refusal as I would have liked, but I told him that I saw it all as nonsense coming from him. I am very obliged to him for his kindness to William, but he was not thinking of me when he made his overtures and I told him so. I know it is all nothing, and I know that I can never think well enough of him to ever consider accepting him as a real friend - let alone a husband. I cannot accept a man who sports with women's feelings."
She could say no more; she was out of breath. Julia would have looked at her in encouragement, but her head was hanging from shame over what she did and overlooked. It is all about to come out. Brace yourself, Julia. This will not be pleasant.
No, it will not. (frowns)
Sir Thomas was in disbelief. "You mean that you have refused Mr. Crawford?" He had to be certain he heard right.
"Yes, sir." Fear was strong in Fanny, but the knowledge that she had to defend herself gave her strength.
"On what grounds?"
"His character, principles, behavior, and treatment of my cousins and myself."
"This is very strange!" said Sir Thomas, in a voice of calm disbelief. "There is something in this which my comprehension does not reach. Here is a young man wishing to pay his addresses to you, with everything to recommend him; not merely situation in life, fortune, and character, but with more than common agreeableness, with address and conversation pleasing to everybody. And he is not an acquaintance of today; you have known him some time. His sister, moreover, is your intimate friend and he has been doing that for your brother, which I should suppose would have been almost sufficient recommendation to you, had there been no other. It is very uncertain when my interest might have gotten William on. He has done it already."
Fanny and Julia were silent; each knew he had more to say, and Fanny could not yet bring herself to counter his claims. The picture he had drawn of Mr. Crawford was filled with inaccuracies he knew not about, and he could not know how it pained Fanny that she had to be obliged to Mr. Crawford for William's promotion.
"You must have been aware," Sir Thomas continued presently, "you must have been some aware of a particularity in Mr. Crawford's manners to you. This cannot have taken you by surprise.
Even Sir Thomas believes it! Argghhhhh!!!!!!!!!
You must have observed his attentions; and though you always received them properly (I have no accusation to make on that head), I never perceived them to be unpleasant to you. I am half inclined to think, Fanny, that you do not quite know your own feelings."
You give your niece too little credit, Sir Thomas. As usual... sadly.
Fanny breathed deeply to attempt to remain calm, and Julia struggled to not have an outburst. "Oh, I was aware of his taking greater notice of me since early December, but prior to that I had been mostly ignored by him. He was too busy making mischief to the hearts of the Miss Bertrams to notice their short cousin. And his attentions to me were the same in essence to what he paid to my cousins: always what I did not like or was comfortable with. If I did not appear to be displeased it was because I did not think it proper to complain."
Sir Thomas looked at her with deeper surprise. She appeared certain of her feelings and opinions. "This is beyond me," said he. "This requires some explanation. Young as you are, and having seen scarcely anyone, it is hardly possible that your affections -"
(Dwiggies gasp) "Uh, oh!"
He paused and eyed her fixedly. Julia looked out of the corner of her eye at Fanny. She saw her cousin's lips form into a no, though the sound was inarticulate, but her face was like scarlet. Julia was alarmed, but to Sir Thomas, that however, in so modest a girl might be very compatible with innocence; and choosing to at least appear satisfied, he quickly added, "No, no, I know that is quite out of the question; quite impossible. Well, there is nothing more to be said."
And for a few minutes he did say nothing. He was deep in thought. His niece was deep in thought likewise, trying to harden and prepare herself against further questioning.
She and Julia both knew she would rather die than own the truth; and hoped by a little reflection to fortify themselves beyond betraying it.
"Independently of the interest which Mr. Crawford's choice seemed to justify," said Sir Thomas, beginning again, and very composedly, "his wishing to marry at all so early is recommendatory to me. I am an advocate for early marriages, where there are means in proportion, and would have every young man, with a sufficient income, settle as soon after four-and-twenty as he can. This is so much my opinion, that I am sorry to think how little my own eldest son, your cousin, Tom,
He refers to him so because of Tom's reformation.
is to marry early; but at present, as far as I can judge, matrimony makes no part of his plans or thoughts. I wish he were more likely to fix." Then he glanced at Fanny and Julia. "Edmund, I consider, from his disposition and habits, as much more likely to marry early than his brother. He, indeed, I have lately thought has seen the woman he could love, which, I am convinced, my eldest son has not. Am I right? Do you two agree with me, my dears?"
"Yes, sir," they both said calmly and gently.
"And you, Julia, have not yet seen a man who makes you wish to enter into matrimony. Have I got that right?"
"Yes, sir." Though I had thought so, I was wrong.
It was gently and calmly said, and Sir Thomas was easy on the score of his children. But the removal of his alarm did his niece and daughter no service; as Fanny's unaccountableness was confirmed his displeasure increased; and getting up and walking about the room, with a frown, which both girls could picture to themselves even had they been unable to watch him at all.
Shortly afterwards, and in a voice of authority, Sir Thomas said, "You said you had objections to Mr. Crawford. You named his character, his principles, his behavior, and treatment of yourself and my daughters, Fanny, as reasons. What examples of each gives you an ill opinion of him?"
Here it comes.... and we see how the truth is often a mess bad enough that scrubbing the devil out of will not clean it all.
Fanny suddenly felt unequal to giving explanations. She did not think she had it in herself to give the details of what she had observed. Fortunately, Julia, knowing it was time to act, stood. "Father, I believe I can answer that as well as Fanny can. She has confided to me all she has observed, and I myself was witness to things she was not. She is silent because the explanations require telling you of the bad behavior of Maria and myself since around the outing to Sotherton, and she dislikes having to... betray what my sister and I did wrong."
"What do you mean, child," said Sir Thomas, a hint of fatherly anger in his voice. She asked him to sit; the story was long and he would be displeased by much of what she had to say; but it was the truth and she must say it to explain Fanny's refusal.
It did take a while; half an hour later she was not yet done. During her story she would at times encourage Fanny to add her perspective on a moment of Mr. Crawford's behavior, which Fanny found the strength to give. It held back nothing,
Except for Fanny's punch and slap.
giving every last mistaken opinion and misbehavior done by those involved; and Julia concluded with a plea to her father. "Fanny did not deserve such a fate; Mr. Crawford knew constancy not and would surely be unfaithful. He paid no heed to her feelings, denied that she knew her heart, thought he could get her affections through William if he had it not already, and had few good feelings and principles. Did he not understand why Fanny could never accept such a proposal? Would he go to Mr. Crawford and tell him that it was impossible for Fanny to ever accept him, and ask that he never mention the subject again?"
Her eyes, and Fanny's, plead with him, and he thought the matter over. He was not pleased by the story Julia told, but her voice and eyes and Fanny's confirmation said that they truly believed that the story was at least largely true. He could not believe it all, and wondered if both had over-reacted about some friendly address Mr. Crawford gave to Maria. Still, he thought it best to go and see what Mr. Crawford's side of the story was. He excused himself, saying he would speak to Mr. Crawford about the basics founding Fanny's refusal, and promised to be back soon.
That was dreaded by both girls, and ensured that neither would be comfortable.
"I am sure half an hour has passed since my father went down."
"I only hope Mr. Crawford is gone."
Fat chance, Fanny dear. (sigh)
"I cannot hope such a thing. Tom was worried that His Vanity will stop at nothing to gain your heart, and my father did not look like he believed the whole of our story."
That brought Fanny's head up from her needlework. "Do you think Mr. Crawford's silver tongue will convince my uncle that we are mistaken?" Her voice trembled at the thought.
No, that cannot happen....
Or can it?
Julia stopped her pacing. "I hope not."
As soon as the words left her mouth, they could hear Sir Thomas' footsteps coming back in their direction. Fanny put down her work, and Julia sat down; each tried to compose themselves for whatever was to come.
The knock came, and when he was bade to come in, he entered with a stern look. Fanny and Julia's hopes began to crumble.
Here we go with The Lecture.
"I have spoken to Mr. Crawford, and he insists that you are both mistaken; that nothing improper happened between himself and either of my daughters. He freely admits that he was considered yours, Julia, in equity when he arrived, but he never gave you any distinction." Julia opened her mouth to protest, but her father held a hand up, demanding silence.
Now Julia was ready to tremble with fear. But each would tremble more as his lecture goes on.
"He also admits that his initial attentions to Fanny were not entirely serious, but they quickly became so. But I see that you two are equally insistent that your version of the story is correct." With a harder tone of cold sternness, he continued, "It is no use, I perceive, to talk to either of you. We had better put an end to this most mortifying conference. Mr. Crawford must not be kept longer waiting. I will, therefore, only add, as thinking it my duty to mark my opinion of your conduct, that you have both disappointed every expectation I had formed, and proved yourselves of characters the very reverse of what I had supposed. For I had, Fanny and Julia, as I think my behavior must have shown, formed a very favorable opinion of you, and Maria, from the period of my return to England. I had thought all three of you peculiarly free of willfulness of temper, self-conceit, and every tendency to that independence of spirit which prevails so much in modern days, even in young women, and which in young women is offensive and disgusting beyond all common offence. But while Maria showed herself a dutiful girl you two have now shown me that you can be willful and perverse; that you can and will decide for yourself. without any consideration or deference for those who surely have some right to guide you, without even asking their advice. You have shown yourselves very, very different from anything that I had imagined. The advantage or disadvantage of your family, Fanny, of your parents, your brothers and sisters, never seems to have had a moment's share in your thoughts on this occasion. How they might be benefited, how they must rejoice in such an establishment for you, is nothing to you. You think only of yourself, and because you do not feel for Mr. Crawford exactly what a young heated fancy imagines to be necessary for happiness (and some inconsequential events that you have deemed proof of a bad character), you resolve to refuse him at once, without wishing even for a little time to consider of it, a little more time for cool consideration, and for really examining your own inclinations; and are, in a wild fit of folly, throwing away from you such an opportunity of being settled in life, eligibly, honourably, nobly settled, as will, probably, never occur to you again. Here is a young man of sense, of character, of temper, of manners, and of fortune, exceedingly attached to you, and seeking your hand in the most handsome and disinterested way; and let me tell you, Fanny, that you may live eighteen years longer in the world, without being addressed by a man of half Mr. Crawford's estate, or a tenth part of its merits. Gladly, I would have bestowed either of my own daughters on him. Maria is nobly married; but had Mr. Crawford sought your hand, Julia, I should have given it to him with superior and more heartfelt satisfaction than I gave Maria's to Mr. Rushworth." And half a moment's pause: "And I should have been very much surprised had either my daughters, on receiving a proposal of marriage at any time, which might carry with it only half the eligibility of this, immediately and peremptorily, and without paying my opinion or my regard the compliment of any consultation, put a decided negative on it. I should have been much surprised and much hurt, by such a proceeding. I should have thought it a gross violation of duty and respect. You are not to be judged by the same rule. You do not owe the duty of a child. But, Fanny, if your heart can acquit you of ingratitude -"
(collective Dwiggie thought:) NO MORE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
At that word, Fanny burst into heaving sobs, and Julia threw her arms around her, tears falling from her eyes. Angry as he was, Sir Thomas would not press that article further. He waited for an answer.
"I am very sorry," said Fanny, inarticulately, through her tears, "I am very sorry, indeed."
"Sorry! Yes, I hope you are sorry; and you will probably have reason to be long sorry for this day's transactions."
Fanny managed to hold back her tears long enough to utter something she needed to say. "If it were possible for me to do otherwise - but I am so perfectly convinced that I could never make him happy, and that I should be miserable myself." And the tears flowed freely again. Julia tightened her hold, praying her father would stop.
(collective glare from readers at author) Make it stop now!
And deny you all some good angst? Methinks not.
Sir Thomas indeed began to think a little of relenting, a little change of inclination, might have something to do with it; and to augur favorably from the personal entreaty of the young man himself. He knew her to be very timid, and exceedingly nervous, and perhaps a little too influenced by the opinions of her cousin Julia; and thought it not improbable that her mind might be in such a state as a little time, a little pressing, a little patience, and a little impatience,
Huh?
a judicious mixture of all on the lover's side, might work their usual effect on. If the gentleman would but persevere, if he had but love enough to persevere, Sir Thomas began to have hopes; and these reflections having passed his mind and cheered it, "Well," said he, in a tone of becoming gravity, but of less anger, "well, children, dry up your tears. There is no use in these tears; they can do no good. Fanny, you must now come downstairs with me. Mr. Crawford has been kept waiting too long already. You must give him your answer; we cannot expect him to be satisfied with less; and you only can explain to him the grounds of that misconception of your sentiments, which, unfortunately for himself, he certainly has imbibed. I am totally unequal to it."
But Fanny showed such reluctance, such misery, at the idea of going down to him, that Sir Thomas, after a little consideration, judged it better to indulge her. His hopes from both gentleman and lady suffered a small depression in consequence; but when he looked at his niece, and saw the state of feature and complexion which her crying had brought her into, he thought there might be as much lost as gained by an immediate interview. With a few words, therefore, of no particular meaning, he walked off by himself, leaving his poor niece and daughter to sit and cry over what had passed, with very wretched feelings on the former's side, and alarmed feelings on the latter's side.
As soon as she knew Sir Thomas was far enough away not to hear anything, Fanny started speaking; her voice hardly steady. "Cousin, my heart is almost broken by such a picture of what I appear to him. Such accusations, so heavy, so multiplied, so rising in dreadful graduation! Self-willed, obstinate, selfish and grateful. He thinks he all of this. I have deceived his expectations; I have lost his good opinion. What is to become of me?"
Julia squeezed her precious cousin. "Fanny, do not worry so. You did the right thing. My father, I am so sad to say, seems more deceived by Mr. Crawford than Edmund is by Miss Crawford. My father cannot know the true state of the 'friendship' between yourself and her. All you can do, Fanny, is remain true to your purpose (but show all proper respect towards your uncle) and never give Mr. Crawford any encouragement. Tom, Maria and I will support you. I do not know if Edmund will, but you have us. If it becomes unbearable for you here, I am sure Maria can (as my father thinks her the only obedient one of the three of us) convince Sir Thomas to let you come to her on the pretense of gaining greater comfortableness in society for yourself. She did say she and James
For that is Mr. Rushworth's name. I have seen it used by more than one author, including one of an Austen book sequel - which I have not read yet.
have friends in circles and places where the Crawfords are unwelcome. They could take you there, where Mr. Crawford will have no access to you, and you might find yourself a husband of five times the consequence and ten times the character of His Vanity."
It was sufficient to calm Fanny and give her hope, but one part of Julia's speech made her sad. "To think that Edmund will be against me on this. Oh, Julia, I shall so need you and Tom to support me."
"Depend upon it; we shall support you, come what may."
And, like Antonio in Twelfth Night, she means it.
In about a quarter of an hour Sir Thomas returned; they were both worried. He spoke calmly, however, without austerity, without reproach, and they revived a little. There was comfort, too, in his words, as well as his manner, for he began, "Mr. Crawford is gone: he has just left me. I need not repeat what has passed. I do not want to add to anything you both may now be feeling, by an account of what he has felt. Suffice it, that he has behaved in the most gentlemanlike and generous manner, and has confirmed me in a most favourable opinion of his understanding, heart, and temper. Upon my representation of what you were suffering, Fanny, he immediately, and with the greatest delicacy, ceased to urge to see you for the present."
(collective thought) Whew!
But Fanny and Julia's relief was short-lived; Sir Thomas mentioned that Mr. Crawford would likely request a short conference with Fanny at some point. That could not be looked forward to. Sir Thomas advised them to walk in the shrubbery to compose themselves, and told them that he would not tell Lady Bertram or Mrs. Norris what had passed. His order for them to be silent was to be joyfully obeyed by both. He left soon after, and they waited a few minutes to go out for a long walk. Nothing would escape either of them except to Tom.
He did not return until shortly before dinner. Dinner was unpleasant as Mrs. Norris reproached Fanny for her walk and for many other things about her. Sir Thomas had held some of the same thoughts that day, but mostly disagreed with her. Tom and Julia were thoroughly offended and wished their aunt would let go of whatever bitter spirits had taken hold of her.
If she did, their lives would be much easier, and I am afraid I cannot allow that.
Tom was not informed of the events at the house of the day by his sister and cousin, but by his father. The two men stayed behind while the ladies went into the sitting room. Both girls were hoping the Crawfords would leave soon; Fanny believed that his affection would not last long while in London for an extended time, and Julia merely hoped that would be the case. It was not too long after that the men returned. Both looked displeased, but Tom's eyes were angered. It was evident that father and eldest son were on opposing sides of the matter, and Tom further confirmed it when he sat next to Fanny, after giving her a brotherly hug, confirming his support of herself.
Sir Thomas was, soon after tea, called out of the room; an occurrence too common to strike the young people, and they thought nothing of it till the butler reappeared ten minutes afterwards, and advancing decidedly toward Fanny, said, "Sir Thomas wishes to speak with you, ma'am, in his own room." Then it occurred to them what might be going on; a suspicion rushed over her mind which drove the colour from her cheeks; but instantly rising, she was preparing to obey, when Mrs. Norris called out, "Stay, stay, Fanny! What are you about? Where are you going? Don't be in such a hurry. Depend upon it, it is not you who are wanted; depend upon it, it is me,? she looked at the butler here, ?but you are so very eager to put yourself forward. What should Sir Thomas want you for? It is me, Baddeley, you mean; I am coming this moment. You mean me, Baddeley, I am sure; Sir Thomas wants me, not Miss Price."
Talk about putting yourself forward.
But Baddeley was stout. "No, ma'am, it is Miss Price; I am sure of its being Miss Price." And there was a half smile with the words, which meant, "I do not think you would answer the purpose at all."
Mrs. Norris, much discontented, was obliged to compose herself to work again; and Fanny walked forward, fully expecting another minute alone with Mr. Crawford. Julia and Tom, though feeling for Fanny, could not help but wonder what the scene would be had Mrs. Norris indeed gone instead of Fanny.
I welcome peoples' ideas about the reactions. Perhaps even one where Mr. Crawford is so drunk he cannot see properly and actually think Mrs. Norris IS Fanny?
Chapter Fourteen Posted on Saturday, 21 April 2001
Sure enough, Fanny approached Sir Thomas' room to find him quitting it. He told her it would only be for a few minutes and that when it was over Mr. Crawford would leave. That gave Fanny little comfort, but she could still nod. If he does anything improper, I can strike him if need be.
(readers jockey for positions to view the conference)
Gathering her mental strength, she opened the door and entered. Mr. Crawford was sitting down next to Sir Thomas' desk. The corners of his mouth parted in what could only be called a beaming smile, and attempted to approach; however, a sharp glare from Fanny stopped him as he stood. "Stay where you are, sir, and I will hear you without complaint." Having said so, Fanny sat in the chair closest to the door, and suspected that the conference would be neither as short nor as conclusive as she wished.
You wanted this scene, readers? You will have it, with a great deal of JA's text mixed in.
The gentleman was not to be easily satisfied. He all the disposition to persevere that Sir Thomas could wish him. He had vanity, which strongly inclined him in the first place to think she did love him, though she might not know it herself; and which, secondly, when constrained at last to admit that she did know her own present feelings, convinced him that he should be able in time to make those feelings what he wished.
Vanity, stubbornness, and pride do not make a good combination.
He declared himself in love, very much in love; and it was a love which, operation on an active, sanguine spirit, of more warmth than delicacy, made her affection appear of greater consequence because it was withheld, and determined him to have the glory, as well as the felicity, of forcing her to love him.
"Forcing her to love him." Tabbi and Coleen, explain to me sometime why you like him. It quite escapes me. I, myself, would be ready to seriously harm him were I in Fanny's place.
He would not despair. He would not desist. He had every well-grounded reason for solid attachment; he knew her to have all the worth that could justify the warmest hopes of lasting happiness with her; her conduct at this time by speaking the disinterestedness and delicacy of her character (qualities he believed most rare indeed), was a sort to heighten all his wishes, and confirm all his resolutions. He knew not that he had a pre-engaged heart to attack. Of that he had no suspicion. He considered her rather as one who had never thought on the subject enough to be in danger; who had been guarded by youth, a youth of mind as lovely as of person; whose modesty had prevented her from understanding his attentions, and who was still overpowered by the suddenness of addresses so wholly unexpected. and the novelty of a situation which her fancy had never taken into account.
Must it not follow of course, that, when he was understood, he should succeed? He believed it fully. Love such as his, in a man like himself, must with perseverance secure a return, and at no great distance; and he had so much delight in the idea of obliging her to love him in a very short time, that her not loving him now was scarcely regretted. A little difficulty to be overcome was no evil to Henry Crawford. He rather derived spirits from it. He had been apt to gain hearts too easily. His situation was new and animating.
As one reader of mine, I believe it was Gabby, put it so aptly, "Methinks Henry is delusional."
Judging from his words, Fanny could only assume that her punch had knocked him unconscious, but the lack of bruises puzzled her.
(Authoress clears her throat)
She could not understand how after what she had said that he could persevere, but she knew her manner had not been strong until after she had punched him. Tom is right. She decided that a harder tone and manner must be applied to him, to make him go away. Aware as she was of the demands his current behavior made on her treatment of him, and because of his securing William's promotion, that she was supposed to feel honoured, be courteous, compassionate, and grateful. But that was impossible except for the last with regards to William.
Why should a lady feel honoured by the attentions of a man whom she does not like? It would go against what the lady feels, and I cannot find fault in this case with that.
Looking him straight in the eye, and with a hard look and tone, said, "You are completely mistaken, sir. I do not love you, and am absolutely convinced that I can never love you. I cannot believe you could possibly feel in that kind toward me; that is impossible to believe after all I saw of your character, principles, and behavior during the summer and early fall. You cannot expect a girl with solid principles to love a man who has meddled with her dear cousins. Indeed, while I must be forever grateful for your kindness to William (which, I confess, stunned me as it came from a man who has shown little kindness to anyone except his sisters prior to then), that gratefulness cannot extend to your attentions, which I find most offensive. The subject is most disagreeable to me, and I ask you to close it forever. I know our dispositions are so totally dissimilar that mutual affection is impossible, and that we are unfitted by nature, education, and habits."
"No, there is nothing uncongenial in our characters," he replied, scarcely hearing her to the last, "or anything unfriendly in our situations. You are young, and you have not experienced love before. I shall still love and hope, for I know I shall one day succeed."
(several readers gather fishes and bricks)
Now Fanny was angry. Not one bit of her normal manner had been in her speech, and he still would not give up? "Sir, what text are you following?"
Mr. Crawford was clearly confused. "Miss Price?"
"What text is making you behave so? What learning makes you discredit my words, which insults myself, my education, and my heart?"
"I insult you not. I could never insult you."
Knowingly.
"You insult me with your insistence of persevering in spite of my insistence, and you know that I have seen some of what you did with my cousins. Now, please, sir, answer my question."
"Why, it is my own beliefs and convictions. I would write a pretty text for you, praising you to the skies, if you asked for one; it would be most poetical."
"Then it is more likely to be feigned; I pray you, keep any poetry to yourself. I have no wish to hear such false speeches. Where lies your text (your beliefs and convictions)?"
"In my bosom and my head."
"Indeed? In what chapters?"
"In the first of my heart and mind."
"Oh," Fanny nearly laughed, stunning Henry Crawford. This almost saucy Fanny Price was as intriguing as the quiet Fanny Price, but he was at a loss for where the exasperated look came from. "I have read both. They are heresy. Any text of love from you must be considered so. I cannot marry a man with such false beliefs, so much vanity, and such a high opinion of himself. Cease to wish, sir, for I shall never have a good opinion of you if you continue in a manner so disagreeable to myself. Good day."
I have Twelfth Night on the brain. My Shakespeare class has been studying it these past two weeks.
There was a finality to her words that even he could not ignore. It was with reluctance that he suffered her to go; but there was no look of despair in parting to belie his words, or give her hopes of his being less unreasonable than he professed himself. Here was again a want of delicacy and regard for others which still stuck and disgusted her. How he could continue still was beyond her, and so she sought out her cousins, who promptly accompanied her to Julia's room to discuss it with a roaring fire to warm them.
Sir Thomas was obliged, or obliged himself, to wait till the morrow for a knowledge of what had passed between the young people. He then saw Mr. Crawford, and received his account.
(readers lean off the edge of their seats with baited breath)
The first feeling was disappointment: he had hoped better things; he had thought that an hour's entreaty from a young man like Crawford could not have worked so little change on a gentle-tempered girl like Fanny, and she had not allowed him half an hour;
Sir Thomas knew not how little he understood his niece; that there was a spark in her that was only now coming out.
but there was speedy comfort in the determined views and sanguine perseverance of the lover; and seeing such confidence of success in the principal, Sir Thomas was soon able to depend on it himself.
Nothing was omitted, on his side, of civility, or kindness, that might assist the plan. Mr. Crawford's steadiness was honoured, Fanny was praised, and the connection still the most desirable in the world. At Mansfield Park Mr. Crawford would always be welcome;
To some, he would as welcome as the pestilence.
he had only to consult his judgment and feelings as to the frequency of his visits, at present or in future. Everything was said that could encourage, every encouragement received with grateful joy, and the gentlemen parted the best of friends.
(collective groan)
Satisfied that the cause was now on a footing the most proper and hopeful, Sir Thomas resolved to abstain from all further importunity with his niece, and to show no open interference. Upon her disposition he believed kindness might be the best way of working. Entreaty should be from one quarter only. The forbearance of her family on a point, respecting which she could be in no doubt of their wishes, might be the surest means of forwarding it. Accordingly, on this principle, Sir Thomas took the first opportunity of saying to her, with a mild gravity, intended to be overcoming, "Well, Fanny, I have seen Mr. Crawford again, and learnt from him exactly how matters stand between you. He is a most extraordinary young man, and whatever be the event, you must feel that you have created an attachment of no common character; though young as you are, and little acquainted with the transient, varying, unsteady nature of love, as it generally exists, you cannot be struck as I am with all that is wonderful in a perseverance of this sort against discouragement. With him, it is entirely a matter of feeling; he claims no merit it; perhaps is entitled to none. Yet, having chosen so well, his constancy has a respectable stamp. Had his choice been less unexceptionable, I should have condemned his persevering."
(collective shout) "You might not, but we find it maddening!"
"Indeed, sir," said Fanny, "but I cannot understand his perseverance when I have told him that I am convinced that -"
"My dear," interrupted Sir Thomas, "there is no occasion for this. Your feelings are as well known to me as my wishes and regrets must be to you. There is nothing more to be said or done. From this hour, the subject is never to be revived between us. You will have nothing to fear, or to be agitated about. You cannot suppose me capable of trying to persuade you marry against your inclinations. Your happiness and advantage are all I have in view, and nothing is required of you but to bear with Mr. Crawford's endeavours to convince you that they may not be incompatible with his. He proceeds at his own risk. You are on safe ground. I have engaged for seeing him whenever he calls, as you might have done had nothing of this sort occurred. You will see him with the rest of us, in the same manner, and, as much as you can, dismissing the recollection of anything unpleasant. He leaves Northamptonshire so soon, that even this slight sacrifice cannot be often demanded. The future must be very uncertain. And now, my dear Fanny, the subject is closed between us."
Fanny was relieved, and promised departure was all she could wish for. But Sir Thomas appeared to recall something, and spoke, "But one more thing, Fanny. I learnt that Mr. Crawford made no secret of his intentions to his sisters and brother-in-law. I have therefore decided to briefly inform your aunts of the business. You may be assured of their forbearance."
She nodded, thanked him, and was released. She promptly hurried to Tom's room, where he was writing to Maria about what had happened. He had just enough room left to add Fanny's brief description of what her uncle said. She and her cousins wondered how Maria would react to the news.
Would she react with anger, as she did in the text? Would she be calm and help Fanny? We must wait for her answer.
Later that night, Fanny was relieved to find that, in spite of all her fears, Mrs. Norris said nothing of the matter. She only looked very anger with Fanny, but Fanny and her cousins knew it was anger over her having received an offer from the man who was supposed to be Julia's.
Auntie Dearest could not understand why Julia did not seem broken up over it, but could not ask why as she had promised her forbearance on the subject to Sir Thomas.
Lady Bertram took it differently. She had been a beauty, and a prosperous beauty, all her life; and beauty and wealth were all that excited her respect. To know Fanny to be sought in marriage by a man of fortune, raised her, therefore, very much in her opinion. By convincing her that Fanny was very pretty, which she had been doubting about before, and that she would be advantageously married, it made her feel a sort of credit in calling her niece.
"Well, Fanny," said she, as soon as they were alone together afterwards, and she really known something like impatience to be alone with her, and her countenance, as she spoke, had extraordinary animation: "Well, Fanny, I have a very agreeable surprise this morning. I must speak of it once, I told Sir Thomas I must once, and then I shall have done. I give you joy, my dear niece." And looking at her complacently, she added, "Humph, we certainly are a handsome family!"
(Authoress not certain whether to fine drug to liven Lady Bertram, or to give a sleeping pill)
Fanny coloured, and doubted at first what to say; when hoping to assail her on her vulnerable side, she presently answered, "My dear aunt, you cannot wish me to do differently from what I have done, I am sure. You cannot wish me to marry; for you would miss me, should not you? Yes, I am sure you would miss me too much for that."
"No, my dear, I should not think of missing you, when such an offer as this comes in your way. I could do very well without you, if you were married to a man of such good estate as Mr. Crawford. And you must be aware, Fanny, that it is every young woman's duty to accept such an unexceptionable offer as this"
(collective groan) "Get a life!
This was the only rule of conduct, the only piece of advice, which Fanny had ever received from her aunt in the course of eight years and a half. It silenced her momentarily. "But what if the young woman does not trust the man who offers? What does she do then?"
Lady Bertram looked at her niece in surprise. "You do not trust him, Fanny?"
"No, I cannot."
Her aunt looked thoughtful. "Well, then I suppose I cannot fault you. A young woman must trust the man who will take care of her for the rest of her life. I will tell you what, Fanny. I am sure he fell in love with you at the ball; I am sure the mischief was done that evening. You did look remarkably well. Everybody said so. Sir Thomas said so. And you know you had Chapman to help you dress. I am glad I sent Chapman to you. I shall tell Sir Thomas that I am sure it was done that evening." And still pursuing the same cheerful thoughts, she soon afterwards added, "And I will tell you what, Fanny, which is more than I was inspired to do when Maria married, the next time Pug has a litter, you, Maria, and Julia shall each have a puppy, and you shall have first choice."
Chapter Fifteen Posted on Sunday, 22 April 2001
Edmund had great things to hear on his return. Many surprised were awaiting him. The first that occurred was not the least in interest: the appearance of Henry Crawford and his sister walking together through the village as he rode into it. He had concluded - he had thought them to be far distant. His absence had been extended beyond a fortnight purposely to avoid Miss Crawford. He was returning to Mansfield with spirits ready to feed on melancholy remembrances, and tender associations, when her fair self was before him, leaning on her brother's arm, and he found himself receiving a welcome, unquestionably friendly,
Actually, a welcome with a little more warmth than what qualifies as friendly.
from the woman whom, two moments before, he been thinking of as seventy miles off, and as farther, much farther, from him in inclination than any distance could express.
Her reception of him was of a sort he could not have hoped for, had he expected to see her.
Her eyes tried to express her wish to take back what she had said, and he saw it.
(collective groan)
Coming as he did from such a purport fulfilled as had taken him away, he would have expected anything rather than a look of satisfaction, warmth, and words of simple, pleasant meaning. It was enough to set his heart in a glow, and to bring him home in the properest state for feeling the full value of the other joyful surprises at hand.
A glow that most assuredly made Fanny? heart sink.
William's promotion, with all its particulars, he was soon master of; and with such a secret provision of comfort within his own breast to help the joy, he found in it a source of most gratifying sensation, and unvarying cheerfulness all dinner-time.
After dinner, when he and his father were alone, he had Fanny's history; and then all the great events of the last fortnight, and the present situation of matters at Mansfield were known to him. Fanny knew it was happening, but she had the good fortune of feeling unwell after dinner and having to go to her room to rest; thus being spared from any possible reproaches until the next day.
Had Edmund spoken to her that night, it would have been to express his participation in all that interested her, and to tell her that he had been hearing what quickened every feeling of affection. He was, in fact, entirely on his father's side of the question. His surprise was not so great as his father's at her refusing Crawford, because, so far from supposing her to consider him with anything like a preference,
I assume he is referring to Mr. Crawford here. He cannot think of himself. If he does, than he is blind.
Wait. Who I am kidding? E.N.A.S.U.T.H.
he had always believe it to rather be the reverse, and could imagine her to be taken perfectly unprepared, but Sir Thomas could not regard the connection as more desirable than he did. It had every recommendation to him; and while honouring her for what she had done under the influence of her present indifference, honouring her in rather stronger terms than Sir Thomas could quite echo, he was most earnest in hoping and sanguine in believing that it would be a match at last, and that, united by mutual affection, it would appear that their dispositions were exactly fitted to make them blessed in each other, as he was now beginning seriously to consider them. Crawford had been too precipitate. He had not given her time to attach himself. He had begun at the wrong end. With such powers as his, however, and such a disposition as hers, Edmund trusted that everything would work out a happy conclusion. He only hoped to know Fanny's feelings.
Tabbi's right. A head full of pudding has he.
What concerned him, and was his only cause for thinking the match might not happen was Tom and Julia's support of Fanny's refusal and her never accepting him. After being informed, Edmund had spoken of it with his siblings, and hoped to understand their reasons. The conference had been unpleasant to all sides. Edmund could not believe his siblings were so against Crawford (though he suspected Julia was a little jealous),
(taps feet impatiently)
and could say that his character left much to be desired. Tom and Julia, however, were not surprised by Edmund's response. They made it plain that they wished for a better match for Fanny, and would do everything in their power to prevent Crawford from getting her; that would not be so difficult as Fanny knew what he was about, and would never let him succeed. Edmund left them, all sides vexed; one still in disbelief, and the others held a little sadness.
Naturally, Fanny was told. It did not give her comfort, but did not depress her spirits, as she had partly expected it.
Crawford called the next day, and on the score of Edmund's return, Sir Thomas felt himself more than licensed to ask him to stay to dinner; it was really a necessary compliment. He stayed of course, and Edmund had then ample opportunity to see how he sped with Fanny, and what degree of immediate encouragement for him might be extracted from her manners; and it not at all. Julia sat between Crawford and Fanny, but hardly spoke to Crawford unless he tried to speak to Fanny; indeed, she and Tom prevented Crawford's every attempt to speak to Fanny; Fanny's countenance remained steady throughout the meal and looked not once at Crawford; and Edmund was almost ready to wonder at his friend's perseverance. Fanny was worth it all; he held her to be worth every effort of patience, every exertion of mind, but he did not think he could have gone on himself with any woman breathing,
Wimp. And yet I actually like you. Ugh.
without something more to warm his courage than his eyes could discern in hers. He was very willing to hope that Crawford saw clearer, and this was the most comfortable to pass before, and at, and after dinner.
Later, when he, Tom and Crawford walked into the drawing room, and Sir Thomas was off writing a letter, they found the ladies peacefully employed. Tom sat promptly next to Fanny, and with Julia on her other side they prevented Crawford from sitting at all near her. Lady Bertram replied to her younger son that Fanny had been reading a fine speech to her, but she could not remember who spoke it.
Crawford took up the volume, and upon saying the name of Cardinal Wolsey, Lady Bertram declared he had got the very speech, and asked him to read. He looked to Fanny for permission, but her attention was on her work and to speaking in whispers to her two cousins. Crawford therefore sat, and began reading. Julia, Tom, and Fanny could not deny that Mr. Crawford had great acting talent; his ability to jump from one character to another, from one mood to another, and one emotion to another was truly dramatic. However, his reading (while of an excellence that none of them yet had) brought to mind the events of the Mansfield theatre, and all three could tell he was doing such a performance to impress Fanny. That allowed both Fanny and Julia to keep their eyes on their work, but they listened.
(collective cheering)
Edmund watched the progress of her attention, and was vexed to see her cease to look at Crawford within one minute and a half, placing all of her attention to her work. Now Edmund began to wonder exactly how up-hill Crawford's struggle was. Edmund praised Crawford's performance, a little discussion of Shakespeare began, but when they looked to Fanny for her to express her feelings, her eyes were on her work or looking at Julia as they spoke in whispers; even Tom joined the girls in their keeping Crawford from feeding off of any look of Fanny's by holding up a newspaper, blocking Crawford's view of Fanny.
(collective snickering)
Edmund and Crawford sighed in disappointment, but Lady Bertram promptly expressed her delight, and to Crawford this gave him expectation that Fanny's enjoyment was far greater than he had thought. He also, after saying that there would never be a theatre at Everingham, looked at Fanny as if to say, "that lady will never allow a theatre at Everingham," but Fanny saw it not due to Tom's happily placed newspaper.
(several Lydia snorts)
The subject of reading aloud was further discussed. The two young friends were the only talkers, but they, standing by the fire, talked over the too common neglect of the qualification, the total inattention to it, in the most ordinary school-system for boys, the consequently natural yet in some instances almost unnatural, degree of ignorance and uncouthness of men, of sensible and well-informed men, when suddenly called to the necessity of reading aloud, which had fallen within their notice, giving instances of blunders, and failures with their secondary causes, the want of management of voice, of proper modulation and emphasis, of foresight and judgment, all proceeding from the first cause: want of delicacy and habit.
To the three other young people, this was further acting on Crawford's part, and a blinded Edmund was helping him by making Crawford appear to be able to think seriously. They knew Mr. Crawford was capable of serious reflection, but had not the patience for it enough to be stable. Therefore, while they listened they pretended to be fully involved in other things.
"Even in my profession," said Edmund with a smile, "how little the art of reading has been studied! How little a clear manner, and good delivery, have been attended to! I speak rather of the past, however, than the present. There is now a spirit of improvement abroad; but among those who were ordained twenty, thirty, forty years ago, the larger number, to judge by their performance, must have thought reading was reading, and preaching was preaching. It is different now. The subject is more justly considered. It is felt that distinctness and energy may have weight in recommending the most solid truths; and besides there is more general observation and taste, a more critical knowledge diffused than formerly; in every congregation there is a larger proportion who know little of the matter, and who can judge and criticise."
Look who's talking, Edmund.
Edmund had already gone through the service once since his ordination and upon this being understood, he had a variety of questions from Crawford as to his feelings and success; questions, which being made, though with the vivacity of friendly interest and quick taste, without any touch of that spirit of banter or air of levity which Edmund knew to be most offensive to Fanny, he had true pleasure in satisfying; and when Crawford proceeded to ask his opinion and give his own as to the proper manner in which particular passages in the service should be delivered, showing it to be a subject on which he had thought before, and thought with judgment, Edmund was still more and more pleased. This would be the way to Fanny's heart. She was not to be won by all that gallantry and wit and good-nature together could do; or at least, she would not be won by them nearly so soon, without the assistance of sentiment and feeling, and seriousness on serious subjects.
"Our liturgy," observed Crawford, "has beauties which not a careless slovenly style of reading can destroy; but it has redundancies and repetitions which require good reading not to be felt. For myself, at least, I must confess being not always so attentive as I ought to be," (here was a glance at Fanny, who sensed it but acted as if she did not); "that nineteen times out of twenty, I am thinking how such a prayer ought to be read, and longing to have read it myself. Did you speak?" stepping to Fanny, but he was ignored. His softened voice allowed an excuse for not hearing. "I saw your lips move. I fancied you might be going to tell me I ought to be more attentive, and not allow my thoughts to wander. Are not you going to tell me so?"
Tom looked up, as if noticing Crawford was near. "Are you dense, Mr. Crawford? You shall have no answer from her. You are best to return to your debate." He went back to his paper, opening it a little further to shield Fanny better. Several more ignored entreaties later, Crawford returned to his former station, and went on as if there had been no such tender interruption.
Tender me blimey behind!
"A sermon, well delivered, is more uncommon even than prayers well read. A sermon, good in itself, is no rare thing. It is more difficult to speak well than to compose well; that is, the rules and trick of composition are often a great object of study. A thoroughly good sermon, thoroughly well delivered, is a capital gratification. I can never hear such a one without the greatest admiration and respect, and more than half a mind to take orders and preach myself.
Fanny and her cousins could hardly keep their countenance at that idea. It was too absurd to consider.
"There is something in the eloquence of the pulpit, when it is really eloquence, which is entitled to the highest praise and honour. The preacher who can touch and affect a heterogeneous mass of hearers, on subjects limited, and long worn threadbare in all common hands; who can say anything new or striking, anything that rouses the attention, without offending the taste, or wearing out the feelings of his hearers, is a man whom one could not in his public capacity honour enough. I should like to be such a man."
Edmund laughed.
As his siblings and cousin wished to do.
"I should indeed. I never listened to a distinguished preacher in my life without a sort of envy. But then, I must have a London audience. I could not preach but to the educated; to those capable of estimating my composition. And I do not know that I should be fond of preaching often; now and then, perhaps, once or twice in the spring, after being anxiously expected for half-a-dozen Sundays together; but not for a constancy; it would not do for a constancy."
Fanny looker at Julia and shook her head with a smile. However, Tom found his paper to be difficult to manage and had to lower it to turn a page; and thus Crawford saw the shake. "You shake your head." And he was instantly across from her at the table; Tom and Julia wondered if they could justify attacking him, and Edmund sat down for his own paper, sincerely wishing that dear little Fanny might be persuaded into explaining away that shake of the head to the satisfaction of her ardent lover.
Which made even Fanny wonder about giving him a slap.
"What was it meant to express? Disapprobation, I fear. But of what? What had I been saying to displease you? Did you think me speaking improperly, lightly, irreverently on the subject? Only tell me if I was. Only tell me if I was wrong. I want to be set right."
"Leave her alone, Crawford," Tom warned.
"Nay, nay, I entreat her; for one moment put down your work. What did that shake of the head mean?" Fanny remained silent, and did not put down her work.
"How can you continue thus, Mr. Crawford?" Julia asked. "You astonish all three of us."
"Do I astonish you, Fanny? Do you wonder? Is there anything in my present entreaty that you do not understand? I will explain to you instantly all that makes me urge you in this manner, all that gives me an interest in what you look and do, and excites my present curiosity. I will not leave you to wonder long." More silence from Fanny, and her cousins were about to speak again when Crawford said, "You shook your head at my acknowledging that I should not like to engage in the duties of a clergyman always for a constancy. Yes, that was the word. Constancy; I am not afraid of the word. I would spell it, read it, write it with anybody. I see nothing alarming in the word. Did you think I ought?"
Tom was about to speak, but Fanny placed a hand on his arm. "Cousin, I must silence him." That made Edmund look up in astonishment. His astonishment increased as Fanny said, "I think it a great pity you did not always know yourself so well as you seemed to at that moment." Upon seeing his mouth open, she hastily added, "Do not speak. I am not done. I wonder at your behavior because from the start of my knowing you and ever since, you have impressed upon me the fullest proof of your being a man incapable of a constancy and love. Whatever you feel for me is not love. If you love someone, you will let go of them after they have made it clear they dislike you greatly, and I have said to you already that I do not believe you are serious. Nothing you have ever done suggests that you can think seriously, and I know that you got William's promotion to gain my love. Well, it will not work. Love of a girl of my sort is not so easily won, and is certainly not forcibly obtained. Yes, you said you would have the felicity of forcing me to love you. That shows the want of delicacy and consideration of others that you have shown since coming to Mansfield, and if I were to name all the things I have to accuse you of I would not be done for some time. Suffice to say, much of it is repeated circumstances. But mark my words, you are the most vain, selfish, arrogant man I have ever met, and you are one of the men on Earth I could never be persuaded to marry."
The firmness of her words was enough to silence Crawford in wonder. Edmund's jaw would have landed on the floor had it not been connected to his head. Lady Bertram, being asleep, heard none of the exchange.
I shall not bother telling you Edmund's thoughts. Suffice to say, his astonishment knows no bounds.
"Well," said Crawford after a short reflection, "I am happier than I was, because I now understand more clearly your opinion of me. You think me unsteady; easily swayed by the whim of the moment, easily tempted, easily put aside. With such an opinion, no wonder then. But we shall see. It is not by protestations that shall endeavour to convince you I am wronged; it is not by telling you that my affections are steady. My conduct shall speak for me; absence, distance, time shall speak for me. They shall prove that, as far as you can be deserved by anybody, I do deserve you.' Her cousins did not speak, having decided to let him to speak his plans so they knew better what they were up against.
A wise strategy. Being a chess player, and a beginning Go player, I cannot disapprove of their thinking.
"You are infinitely my superior in merit; all that I know. You have qualities which I had not supposed to exist in any degree in any human creature. You have some touches of the angel in you beyond what - not merely beyond that one sees, because one never sees anything like it - but beyond one fancies might be. But still I am not frightened. It is not by quality of merit that you can be won. That is out of the question. It is he who sees and worships your merit the strongest, who loves you most devotedly, that has the best right to a return. There I build my confidence. By that right I do and will deserve you; and when once convinced that my attachment is what I declare it. I know you too well not to entertain the dearest hopes. Yes, dearest, sweetest Fanny. Nay -" he said upon seeing her look up in anger he had never seen in her before, and not noticing Tom's look of deciding where would be the best place to harm him if he came too close to Fanny, "forgive me. Perhaps I have as yet no right; but by what other name can I call you? Do you suppose you are ever present to my imagination under any other? No, it is 'Fanny' that I think of all day, and dream of all night. You have given the name such reality of sweetness, that nothing else can now be descriptive of you."
Fanny, while a patient girl, was ready to quit the room at once, and would have had Julia not said, "Nay, you are totally mistaken. He who has high quality of merits, of principles, and proper respect and caring for her feelings and for her family are what will earn her respect and trust. As long as you have not her trust, you cannot have her love. Now, if you would be so good as to quit this table at once? I do not think I can restrain my brother much longer from harming you if you do not cease at once. If you do not stop being so in Fanny's space about your 'love,' then I am sure Tom will have no compunction in turning you into a eunuch."
Coleen and Tabbi: Nooo!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Now girls, she's just threatening him so he'll leave Fanny alone.
The threat, which Tom looked like he would carry out if need be,
Of course, watch out when Tom's brotherly protective instincts come out on alert!
was aided by the arrival of a procession headed by Baddeley, of teaboard, urn, and cake-bearers, force Mr. Crawford to move, and so he was unable to spend another second beside Fanny. She felt more at ease. She was at liberty, she was busy, she was protected.
And not a moment too soon.... at least for Mr. Crawford.
Edmund was quite alarmed by what he heard Fanny say to Crawford her opinion of him. It seemed that despite all he had hoped for, the night had passed without any help to the speaker except for a knowledge that Fanny supposedly trusted him not. He feared that the strong feelings of Tom and Julia were affecting Fanny's gentle manners and turning her into someone more forceful. While it did mean she would no be put down easily, it also meant that the match was now all the harder to make.