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Chapter Sixteen

Posted on Wednesday, 25 April 2001

Edmund had determined that it belonged entirely to Fanny to choose whether her situation with regard to Crawford should be mentioned between them or not; and that if she did not lead the way, it should never be touched on by him; but three days after Crawford's visit, he was induced by his father to change his mind, and try what his influence might do for his friend.

If only he had stuck to his purpose. But then he would not be the lovable blockhead that he is.

Early Monday, three days hence, was actually fixed for the Crawfords' departure; and Sir Thomas thought it might be as well to make one more effort for the young man before he left Mansfield, that all his professions and vows of unshaken attachment might have as much hope to sustain them as possible.

Oh, I don't think Crawford would lose hope even with no encouragement.

Sir Thomas was most cordially anxious for perfection of Mr. Crawford's character in that point.

Ha! Perfection in inconstancy, yes. The other, never!

He wished him to be a model of constancy; and fancied the best means of effecting it would be by not trying him too long.

Edmund was not unwilling to be persuaded to engage in the business; he wanted to know Fanny's feelings. She had been used to consult him in every difficulty (though she lately seemed to confide in her other cousins), and he loved her too well to bear to be denied her confidence now; he hoped to be of service to her. If she did not need counsel, she must need the comfort of communication. Fanny estranged from him, silent, and reserved, was an unnatural state of things; a state which he must break through, and which he could easily learn to think she was wanting him to break through.

Fanny was, in fact, dreading it; for to hear the man she loves encourage her to love the man she despised (she could now use no other term to describe her feelings) was such a dreadful thing to experience.

"I will speak to her, sir: I will take the first opportunity of speaking to her alone," was the result of such thoughts as these; and upon Sir Thomas' information of her being at that very time walking alone in the shrubbery, he instantly joined her.

Fanny had been walking alone because both Tom and Julia were needed elsewhere, and she needed to get out of the house for a little while. Her musings on the situation were interrupted by the sound of Edmund approaching. "I am come to walk with you, Fanny," said he. "Shall I?" He drew her arm within his, and Fanny felt more uncomfortable than before. "It is a long while since we have had a comfortable walk together." Fanny merely nodded, not feeling that she should talk. "But, Fanny," he presently added, "in order to have a comfortable walk, something more is necessary than merely pacing this gravel together. You must talk to me. I know you have something on your mind. I know what you are thinking of. You cannot suppose me uninformed. Am I to hear of it from everybody but Fanny herself?"

Fanny, at once agitated, dejected, and suspecting what might be said, replied, "If you hear of it from everybody, cousin, there can be nothing for me to tell."

"Not of facts, perhaps; but of feelings, Fanny. No one but you can tell me them. I do not mean to press you, however. If it is not what you wish yourself, I have done. I had thought it might be a relief."

"I am afraid we think too differently," she said with a good semblance of composure, "for me to find any relief in talking of what I feel. Tom and Julia understand how I feel, and are of the same thought."

"Do you suppose that we think differently? I have no idea of it, though I am delighted that you have Tom and Julia to speak to as well. I dare say, however, that on a comparison of our opinions, yours and mine would be found as much alike as they have been used to be: to the point - I consider Crawford's proposals as most advantageous and desirable, if you could return his affection. I consider it as most natural that nearly all of your family should wish you could return it; but that as you cannot, you have done exactly as you ought in refusing him. Can there be any disagreement between us here?"

"Oh, no!" Fanny cried, greatly surprised at his words. "But I thought you blamed me. I thought you were against me for sure. This is such a comfort."

Fanny, do not become too easy. Worse is about to come.

"This is a comfort you might have had sooner, Fanny, had you sought it. But how could you suppose me against you? How could you imagine me an advocate for marriage without love? Were I even careless in general on such matters, how could you imagine me so where your happiness was at stake?"

"My uncle thought me wrong, and I know he had been talking to you."

"As far as you have gone, Fanny, I think you perfectly right. I may be sorry, I may be surprised: though hardly that, for you had not had time to attach yourself: but I think you perfectly right. Can it admit of a question? It is disgraceful to us if it does. You did not love him; nothing could have justified your accepting him."

Fanny had not felt so comfortable for days, but an instinct told her that it would not last. Further, Maria had married at first for advantage, but finally out of honor and obligation. She had not married for love, but Fanny had a little hope (from Maria's letters) that she would become fond of her husband. She felt his words a little unintentionally unfair to Maria.

Hmm... Excellent thinking, Fanny. Stay on alert and in your guard.

"So far your conduct has been faultless, and they were quite mistaken who wished you to do otherwise. But the matter does not end here. Crawford's is no common attachment; he perseveres, with the hope of creating that regard which had not been created before. This, we know, must be a work of time. But," he said with an affectionate smile, "let him succeed at last, Fanny, let him succeed at last. You have proven yourself upright and disinterested, prove yourself grateful and tender-hearted; and then you will be the perfect model of a woman, which I have always believed you born for."

Fanny suppressed a frustrated laugh. "Perfect model of a woman?" Proven by marrying Mr. Crawford? Never, never, never! "If marrying Mr. Crawford is what is required to be seen as perfection, then I should rather not aspire to such a title; for he shall never succeed with me. I am absolutely convinced of it." She blushed not as she spoke; her determination helped her.

(loud cheering, boosted by Tabbi)

"Never! Fanny! so very determined and positive! This is not like yourself, your rational self."

Tabbi: "Get off her back, Boring Bertram!"

"I am rational, cousin. I have thought the matter carefully, and I know I can never return his regard; for he has constantly proven that he does not truly care for my feelings and comfort. If he did, I should hope he would not persist as he does."

Edmund could not believe her words. Surely her heart is not that hardened. "I must hope better things. I am aware, more aware than Crawford can be, that the man who means to make you love him ( you having due notice of his intentions) must have very uphill work, for there are all your early attachments and habits in battle-array; and before he can get your heart for his own use

Look at this. Even Edmund is saying that Crawford WILL make Fanny love him. This is lovely, simply lovely.

he has to unfasten it from all the holds upon thins animate and inamimate, which so many years' growth have confirmed, and which are considerably tightened for the moment by the very idea of separation. I know that the apprehension of being forced to quit Mansfield will for a time be arming you against him. I wish he had not been obliged to tell you what he was trying for. I wish he had known you as well as I do, Fanny.

Which at present is hardly at all. But, that is better than not at all.

Between us, I think we should have won you. My theorectical and his practical knowledge together, could not have failed. He should have worked upon my plans. I must hope, however, that time proving him (as I firmly believe it will), to deserve you by his steady affection, will give him his reward. I cannot suppose that you have not the wish to love him - the natural wish of gratitude. You must have some feeling of that sort, but it is perhaps being pushed aside by your love for Tom and Julia, and by their dislike of Crawford. You must be sorry for your own indifference. I cannot believe you truly mean what you said three nights ago."

Fanny took several deep breathes before answering. "Edmund, it pains me that you think that. I cannot feel sorry that I do not love him; how can I feel such an emotion towards him? His attentions greatly pain me. Beside that reason, we are so totally unlike, we are so very, very different in all our inclinations, thoughts, and ways, that I consider it as quite impossible we should ever be tolerably happy together, even if I could like him (and that it an impossibility). We have not one real taste in common. We should be miserable. I know I should be miserable."

(readers applaud)

Edmund's confusion increased. He knew not what to think. He still could not think she truly believed that; her determination had to come from her other cousins.

(cat-calls and booing)

He therefore proceeded with his plan. "You are mistaken, Fanny. The dissimilarity is not so strong. You are quite enough alike. You have taste in common. You have moral and literary tastes in common. You have both warm hearts and benevolent feelings;

(Authoress groans)

(Tabbi hunts for fish, Coleen for a crowbar, and others hunt for more of both)

and, Fanny, who that heard him read, and saw you listen to Shakespeare the other night, will think you unfitted as companions? You forget yourself (and I know you listened more than you showed): there is a decided difference in your tempers, I allow. He is lively, you are serious; but so much the better; his spirits will support yours. It is your disposition to be easily dejected and to fancy difficulties greater than they are. His cheerfulness will counteract this. He sees difficulties nowhere: and his pleasantness and gaiety will be a constant support to you. Your being so far unlike, Fanny, does not in the smallest degree make against the probability of your happiness together: do not imagine it. I am myself convinced that it is rather a favorable circumstance. I am perfectly persuaded that the tempers had better be unlike: I mean in the flow of spirits, in the manners, in the inclination for much or little company, in the propensity to talk or be silent, to be grave or gay.

Recall, readers, that the word means "happy" here.

Some opposition here is, I am throughly convinced, friendly to matrimonial happiness. I exclude extremes, of course; and a very close resemblance in all those points would be the likeliest way to produce such an extreme. A counteraction, gentle and continual, is the best safeguard of manners and conduct."

Fanny knew full well that some difference in temperaments did not mean unhappiness, but there had to be principles, tastes, beliefs, and habits in common in order for two different personalities to be happy in marriage; not to mention agreement on how any children were to be raised. And full well could she guess where Edmund thoughts were now, Miss Crawford's power was all returning. He had been speaking of her cheerfully from the hour of his coming home. His avoiding her was quite at an end. He had dined at the Parsonage only the preceding day.

I myself am a fan of various matches were the two people involved are opposites, but in all cases they are both good people. We cannot grant that title to His Vanity.

After leaving him to his happier thought for some minutes, Fanny, having decided on what to say, returned the subject to Mr. Crawford, and said, "I do not dispute that different tempers can make for a happy match; but when one?s temperament is such that the person does not sense the harm they might do with their liveliness, then a match with someone quite the opposite is a bad idea. That is what I mean when I say our temperaments are unsuited. It is not merely in temper that I consider him as totally unsuited to myself, however. I confess his spirits, his manners, often oppress me, and that would never make for a good match. But there is something in him which I object to still more: I cannot approve of his character. I have not thought well of him from the time from the outing at Sotherton. I had seen aspects of his behavior that bothered me before than, but from then on, and after the play, I saw him behaving (and Julia saw it as well; do not deny her powers of observation even though she was getting over Mr. Crawford by the start of the play) so very improperly and unfeelingly - I may speak of it now as it is all over and I feel stronger about speaking of it - so by poor Mr. Rushworth, not seeming to care how he exposed or hurt him, and paying attention to my cousin Maria (resulting in feelings on her side which, I am glad to say, she is, at last, done with). By the time the play business was over and he was gone to Bath, I had received an impression of him which will never be got over." Yet having said all this, Fanny had the sinking feeling she would not be heard, that her determination would not be heard.

It doesn't take a lot of brain power to know that; that is, if you know the novel.

"My dear Fanny," replied Edmund, scarcely hearing her to the end, "let us not, any of us, be judged by what we appeared at that period of general folly. The time of the play is a time which I hate to recollect. Maria was wrong, Crawford was wrong, we were all wrong together; but none so wrong as myself. Compared with me, the rest were blameless. I was playing the fool with my eyes open."

I wonder how Maria will think of being called so, Fanny wondered. She would surely not agree with his assessment.

To quote a character whom all of us ladies love to drool over (particularly when he is in wet clothes), "Certainly not."

"As a bystander along with Julia," said Fanny, "perhaps I saw more than you did; and I do know that Mr. Rushworth was sometimes very jealous."

"Very possibly. No wonder. Nothing could be more improper than the whole business. I am shocked whenever I think that Maria could be capable of it; but, if she could undertake the part, we must not be surprised at the rest. I mean no insult to her, Fanny. I know she grew very close to you after withdrawing from the play. That made me proud. It was high time for it to end."

At last, one thing we can agree on. "Before the play, I am much mistaken if he did not pay Julia attentions. She knew it, and it was seeing his attentions to Maria that made her go on the path of discovery that led her to coming to me for comfort."

"Julia! I have heard before from some one of his being in love with Julia; but I could never see anything of it. And, Fanny, though I hope to do justice to my sisters' good qualities (and they have many; and not the least is loving you, confiding in you), I think it very possible that they might, one or both, have been desirous of being admired by Crawford, and might have shown that desire rather more unguardedly than perfectly prudent. I can remember that they were evidently fond of his society; and with such encouragement, a man like Crawford, lively, and it may be, a little unthinking, might have been led on to (though I am not sure of the day Julia decided she disliked him). There could be nothing very striking, because it is clear that he had no pretensions: his heart was reserved for you. And I must say, that its being reserved for you has raised him inconceivably in my opinion. It does him the highest honour; it shows his proper estimation of the blessing of domestic happiness and pure attachment. It proves him unspoilt by his uncle. It proves him, in short, everything that I had been used to wish to believe him, and feared he was not."

If only you had kept that belief, Edmund. It would have shown you properly observant of others. Instead, you prove yourself to be a coxcomb.

"I have observed that he does not think, as he ought, on serious subjects."

"Say, rather, that he has not thought at all upon serious subjects, which I believe to be a good deal the case. How could it be otherwise, with such an education and advisor? Under the disadvantages, indeed, which both have had, is it not wonderful that they should be what they are?

I will grant Miss Crawford that to an extent, but not to her brother.

Crawford's feelings, I am ready to acknowledge, have hitherto been too much his guides. Happily, those feelings have generally been good. You will supply the rest; and a most fortunate man he is to attach to such a creature - to a woman, who, firm as a rock in her own principles, has a gentleness of character so well adapted to recommend them. He has chosen his partner, indeed, with rare felicity; he will make you happy, Fanny; I know he will make you happy; but you will make him everything."

"Oh!," Fanny cried, at last unable to stand the sinking feelings of sadness and frustration, and pulled away from him. "Edmund, how can you think so? I have told you why I know he will make me unhappy; it is impossible for him to make me happy when he is denying or dismissing nearly every last objection I have made against him. And I should never, never, engage in the charge of making him what he is not! It is an office of high responsibility not meant for me! It is his responsibility to become stable. The woman who thinks she can reform a man is mad; they do not change unless they wish to change!" Fanny turned her back on him, needing to maintain her composure.

(loud cheering) ?Go, Fanny!"

Once again, Edmund was dumbstruck, and could only continue, rather quietly, and coming a little closer to her, "As usual, believing yourself unequal to anything! fancying everything too much for you! Well, though I may not be able to persuade you into different feelings, you will be eventually persuaded into them, I trust. I confess myself sincerely anxious that you may. I have no common interest in Crawford's well-doing. Next to your happiness, Fanny, his has the first claim on me. You are aware of my having no common interest in Crawford."

Fanny's back was still turned to him, but she was too well aware of his words to have anything to say; her emotions were in too much strength. Sensing her being tired of hearing him speak of Crawford, he began again, but on a different subject.

Which Fanny knew was coming, much to her sadness. But, she loved him too well to throw herself at him.

"I was very much pleased by her manner of speaking of it yesterday, particularly pleased, because I had not depended upon her seeing everything in so just a light. I knew she wass very fond of you; but yet I was afraid of her not estimating your worth to her brother quite as it deserved, and of her regretting that he had not rather fixed on some woman of distinction of fortune. I was afraid of the bias of those worldly maxims which she has been too much used to hear. But it was very different. She spoke of you, Fanny, just as she ought. She spoke of Tom and Julia's wishes for you to be happy as she ought. She desires the connection as warmly as your uncle or myself. We had a long talk about it. I should not have mentioned the subject, though very anxious to know her sentiments, but I had not been in the room five minutes before she began introducing it with all that openness of heart, and sweet peculiarity of manner, that spirit of ingenuousness which are so much a part of herself. Mrs. Grant laughed at her for her rapidity."

"Was Mrs. Grant in the room then?" said Fanny, able to speak calmly.

"Yes, when I reached the house I found the two sisters together by themselves; and once we had begun, we had not done with you, Fanny, till Crawford and Dr. Grant came in."

Fanny realized then that it had been above a week since she had last seen Miss Crawford, but decided it was best for her not to say it. Edmund, however, would speak on that. "She owned to it being above a week since she last saw you, Fanny, and she laments it; yet owns it may have been for the best. You will see her, however, before she goes. She is very angry at you, Fanny; you must be prepared for that. She calls herself very angry, but you can imagine her anger. It is the regret and disappointment of a sister, who thinks her brother has a right to everything he may wish for, at the first moment. She is hurt, as you would be for William; but she loves you and esteems you with all her heart."

That may be true (and as the authoress, I can say it is), but it gives Fanny no comfort.

When Fanny did not speak, Edmund said, "My dearest Fanny," and took her hand, "do not let the idea of her anger distress you. It is anger to be talked of rather than felt. Her heart is made for love and kindness, not for resentment. I wish you could have overheard her tribute of praise; I wish you could have seen her countenance, when she said that you should be Henry's wife. And I observed that she always spoke of you as 'Fanny,' which she was never used to do; and it had a sound of most sisterly cordiality."

"Did Mrs. Grant agree with her sister?"

"Yes, she was agreeing exactly with her sister. The surprise of your refusal, Fanny, seems to have been unbounded at the Parsonage. That you could refuse such a man as Henry Crawford, seems more than they can understand. I said what I could for you; but in good truth, as they stated the case - you must prove yourself to be in your senses as soon as you can, by a different conduct; nothing else will satisfy them. But this is teasing you. I have done. Do not turn away from me."

Teasing, it is not. What is it, I do not know what to call it.

Fanny pulled away and began pacing, to compose a reply he would hear. Edmund was surprised to note that she paced much in the same manner that Tom did. When did she pick that up?

(snorts)

"I should think," said Fanny, at last turning to face Edmund, "that every woman must have felt the possibility of a man?s not being approved, not being loved by some one of her sex, at least, let him be ever so generally agreeable (as Mr. Crawford is purported to be). Let him have all the perfections in the world, I think it ought not to be set down as certain that a man must be acceptable to every woman he may happen to like himself. But, supposing it is so, allowing Mr. Crawford to have all the claims which his sisters think he has, how was I to be prepared to meet him with any feeling answerable to his own? He took me wholly by surprise. I had not an idea that his behavior to me before had any meaning; and surely I was not to be teaching myself to like him only because he was taking what seemed very idle notice of me. In my situation, it would have been the extreme of vanity to be forming expectations on Mr. Crawford. I am sure his sisters, rating him as they do, must have thought so, supposing he had meant nothing. How, then, was I to be- to be in love when him the moment he said he was with me? How was I to have an attachment at his service, as soon as it was asked for? His sisters should consider me as well as him. The higher his deserts, the more improper for me ever to have thought of him. And we think very differently of the nature of women, if they can imagine a woman so very soon capable of returning an affection, as this seems to imply."

Not different from the text, I know, but what is she to do when he won't listen to her more determined protests?

"My dear, dear, Fanny," said he, walking forward to take her hand again, "now I have the truth. I know this to be the truth; and most worthy of you are such feelings. I had attributed them to you before. I thought I could understand you. You have now given me exactly the explanation which I ventured to make for you to your friend and to Mrs. Grant, and they were both better satisfied, though your warmhearted friend was still run away a little by the enthusiasm of her fondness for Henry. I told them, that you were of all human creatures the one over whom habit had the most power and novelty least; and that the very circumstances of the novelty of Crawford's addresses was against him. Their being so new and so recent was all in their disfavour; that you could tolerate nothing that you were not used to; and a great deal more to the same purpose, to give them a knowledge of your character. Miss Crawford made us laugh by her plans of encouragement for her brother. She meant to urge him to persevere in the hope of being loved in time, and if having his addresses most kindly received at the end of about ten years' happy marriage."

(Authoress opens mouth, but closes upon realizing she knows not what to say)

Fanny was aware that a smile was called for, but her feelings were in too much revolt for it. She had tried to make Edmund understand, but he could not; and in guarding herself against one evil, she lay herself open to another. It was too much to bear. She pulled her hand once more from her cousin, the one she loved for so long. "Edmund," she began, holding back a huge weight in emotions, "I tried to make you see my side of the matter, but you have done as Mr. Crawford (and to a lesser extent my uncle) did: dismiss my objections with opinions and observations that I cannot believe, or that are not true to me. Tom and Julia know that marriage to him is not in my best interests; I wish you did too; but seeing as you do not, if you have nothing more to say except to encourage me to reject my reason and senses, and heart, then the subject is closed forever. I -" She had to pause to keep her emotions in check. "I love you well as my cousin and friend, but you are going against my wishes and interests; that pains me greatly, and I must conclude that you do not know me if you think I could ever love Mr. Crawford. But I have said enough. Never mention the matter to me again, if you care at all for me, Edmund."

Tabbi: "Why couldn?t she say something harder?"

Sania: "Why couldn?t she say she loves Edmund?!"

Beacause: Tabbi, how many of us can speak as firmly as we would like when we are oppressed by such emotions? And Sania, I think we all know Edmund would not believe her if she did. Poor Fanny.

Fanny began to walk away from a very surprised Edmund, but he begged her to stop, let him take her back into the house, and talk to him; he made the promise to not mention the name Crawford except where it might be connected with what must be agreeable to her. On this, principle, he soon afterwards observed -

"They go on Monday. You are sure, therefore, of seeing your friend either tomorrow or Sunday. They really go on Monday; and I was within a trifle of being persuaded to stay at Lessingby till that very day! I had almost promised it. What a difference it might have made! Those five or six days more at Lessingby might have been felt all my life."

Her arm held once more by Edmund, Fanny decided that she would hold out a little more, for his sake.

However misguided she knew it to be.

"You were near staying there?"

"Very. I was most kindly pressed, and had nearly consented. Had I received any letter from Mansfield, to tell me how you were all getting on, I believe I should certainly have stayed; but I knew nothing that had happened here for a fortnight, and felt that I had been away long enough."

Apparently not.

"You spent your time pleasantly there?"

"Yes; that is, it was the fault of my own mind if I did not. They were all very pleasant. I doubt their finding me so. I took uneasiness with me, and there was no getting rid of it till I was in Mansfield again."

"The Miss Owens - you liked them, did not you?" Fanny actually found herself half hoping one might have caught his eye enough to pull his attention away from Miss Crawford enough to free him from being duped by either brother or sister; yet she knew this was to hope in vain.

"Yes, very well. Pleasant, good-humoured, unaffected girls. But I ams spoilt, Fanny, for common female society. Good-humoured, unaffected girls will not do for a man who has been used to sensible women. They are two distinct orders of being. You and Miss Crawford have made me too nice."

That is certainly an untruth. Fanny wishes you not duped; Mary wants you to marry her.

Fanny's feelings began oppress her again; Edmund saw it in her looks, and knew it could not be talked away; and in attempting it no more, he led her directly, with the kind of authority of a privileged guardian, into the house.

Upon Fanny's entering, she handed her cloak and bonnet to the servant who attended her at the door, and promptly hurried to find her more sensible cousins.

Chapter Seventeen

Posted on Thursday, 26 April 2001

Edmund now believed himself tolerably acquainted with all Fanny could tell,

Yeah, right.

or could leave to be conjectured of her sentiments, and he was nervous.

Good! Might it drive him to his senses? Sadly, I think not.

It had been, as he before presumed, too hasty a measure on Crawford's side, and time must be given to make the idea first familiar, and then agreeable to her. She must be used to the consideration of his being in love with her, the idea become agreeable (which it was evidently not at present), and then a return of affection might not be very distant.

(coughs in anger)

He gave his opinion as the result of the conversation to his father (not including not of the harsher things she said); and recommended there being nothing more said to her; no further attempts to influence or persuade; but that everything should be left to Crawford's assiduities, and the natural workings of her own mind. Time would also allow her to see her cousins? opinions in careful consideration.

Tabbi, Coleen, hold up! I'll make Edmund pay for this...

in due time...

Sir Thomas promised that it should be so. Edmund's account of Fanny's disposition he could believe to be just; he supposed she had all those feelings, but he must consider it as very unfortunate that she had; for, less willing than his son to trust to the future, he could not help fearing that if such very long allowances of time and habit were necessary for her, she might not have persuaded herself into receiving his addresses properly, before the young man?s inclination for paying them were over. There was nothing to be done, however, but to submit quietly and hope the best.

The best, as many have made clear, is for Fanny to be safe from Crawford!

Fanny's feelings following her conference with Edmund were a twisted mess. She was angry at him for his support and for suggesting that he would team with Mr. Crawford to "win" her; sad that everything was in a fairer train than before for Edmund's marrying Miss Crawford; and a feeling that if Edmund thought all that he said he did, then he deserved Miss Crawford.

Tom and Julia could not believe all that Fanny told them when she spoke of the conference. Tom wanted to knock some sense into his brother, and Julia thought that it would soon be time to get Fanny away from Mansfield; which could not be done until after the Crawfords were gone, and then the situation at home might be fine.

Until Sir Thomas decides otherwise.

The promised visit from "her friend," as Edmund called her, was not something Fanny looked forward to. As a sister, so partial and angry,

Though the anger was not a real threat by itself.

and so little scrupulous of what she said, and in another light so triumphant and secure, she was in every way an object of painful alarm. Her displeasure, her penetration and her happiness were all not to give Fanny pleasure, and to avoid such a meeting if possible would be a sincere delight. On that idea, Fanny made certain one of her two good cousins was with her at all times, avoided the East Room as much as possible, and kept active to avoid any possible meeting with Miss Crawford until she was to take leave of them at dinner on Sunday. They even took breakfast early.

Saturday passed with no visit from the lady. Sunday too seemed to be passing in the same manner. Fanny and Julia stayed together in Julia's room as much as possible. Tom took the duty of staying with his mother.

Mostly to give Fanny plenty of hiding time, if need be.

However, unknown to the girls, when Miss Crawford did arrive, Tom had been sent off to another room briefly, and was not there to give a contrary direction to where Fanny was.

ARGGGHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

During their projects, the girls realized they were missing some things from the East Room. They went to collect them. Fanny got the items needed from near the table, and Julia collected items from near Fanny?s bed, and was hidden from view of the door.

So when a knock came, and Miss Crawford leaned her head inside, she did not see Julia. "Are you alone?" she asked Fanny.

"Miss Crawford." Oh, no. I suppose it was too much to hope to avoid this.

"I must speak to you." Miss Crawford came in, and turned to close the door. While she did, Fanny exchanged a quick glance with Julia, who motioned for her to not indicate she was there; she hid behind a certain that Fanny knew had a tiny hole in it; Julia could see all she wished to see, and Fanny could be secure in that there would be someone she could talk to as soon as it was done.

Tabbi and Coleen: "Shoot, Kendra! Why did THIS have to happen?"

Because I thought it should.

Julia watched as Miss Crawford turned and approached Fanny, with arch, yet affectionate reproach, shake her head and say, "Sad, sad, girl! I do not know when I shall have done scolding you." But then Miss Crawford smiled and gave Fanny a hug and a kiss; neither was returned, for Fanny remained still. But the evil which both girls were concerned about was delayed by Miss Crawford's realization of being in the East Room again.

"Am I here again? The East Room! Only once was I in this room before," and after stopping to look about her, and seemingly to retrace all that had then passed,

Which Julia remembered well.

she added, "once only before. Do you remember it? I came to rehearse. Your cousin Edmund came too; and we had a rehearsal. You and your cousin Julia were our audience and our prompters. I delightful rehearsal. I shall never forget it. Here we were, just in this part of the room," she said, motioning to the chairs and table. She moved two into certain spots, saying, "here was your cousin, here was I, here were the chairs. Oh! why will such things ever pass away?"

Because all good things must come to an end.

Julia and Fanny saw that she wanted no answer. Fanny sat, and Julia braced herself to remain still while their companion was in a reverie of sweet remembrances.

"The scene we were rehearsing was so very remarkable! The subject of it so very - very - what shall I say? He was to be describing and recommending matrimony to me. I think I see him now, trying to be as demure and composed as Anhalt ought, through two long speeches. 'When two sympathetic hearts meet in the marriage state, matrimony may be called a happy life.' I suppose no time can ever wear out the impression I have of his looks and voice as he said those words. It was curious, very curious that we should have such a scene to play! If I had the power of recalling any weeks of my existence, it should be those weeks - the acting weeks. Say what you would, Fanny, it should be that; for I never knew such exquisite happiness in any other. His sturdy spirit to bend as it did! But alas, in only a few weeks, your one cousin backed out, and the other fell ill. Both destroyed it all. And later, Sir Thomas returned, seriously displeased with the whole affair. Poor Sir Thomas, who was glad to see you and your lady cousins. Yet, Fanny, do not imagine I speak with any disrespect towards Sir Thomas, or any of your cousins (though I certainly did hate Maria for a week, and was vexed with Tom). No, I do them justice now. Sir Thomas is just what the head of a family should be. Maria is by all accounts now as generous as an older cousin can be. Tom is reformed, and everything an heir should be. He and Julia are your confidants, and she made you into one able to play at the pianoforte and the harp; not to mention a singer. Nay, in sober sadness, I believe I now love you all." The degree of tenderness and consciousness in her reflections was something neither Fanny nor Julia had ever seen in Miss Crawford before, and both thought it becoming. The lady turned to compose herself. "I have had a little fit since I came into this room, as you may perceive," said she presently, with a playful smile, "but it is over now; so let us sit down and be comfortable; for as to scolding you, Fanny, which I cam truly intending to do, I have not the heart for it when it comes to the point." And embracing her very affectionately, "Good, gentle Fanny! when I think of this being the last time of seeing you for I do not know how long, I feel it quite impossible to do anything but love you."

(Authoress taps feet slowly) Maybe so, Mary.

Julia felt a little tug at her heart. At last some genuine feeling in Miss Crawford! It was a good thing. And Fanny was affected, it was impossible with her still soft heart; but even though she had been expecting much worse, it was impossible to be brought to tears given the state of her heart towards other directions connected with Miss Crawford. Still, she hugged Miss Crawford back. It was only right. Miss Crawford drew back after a long while, with fondness. "I hate to leave you. I shall see no one half so amiable where I am going. Who says we shall not be sisters? I know we shall. I feel that we were born to be connected; and I hope you feel it too, Fanny."

Fanny: "Heavens, no! Get out, witch!"

Fanny held firm, and spoke evenly, "But you are only going from one set of friends to another. You are going to very particular friends."

"Yes, very true. Mrs. Fraser has been my intimate friend for years. But I have not the least inclination to go near her. I can only think of the friends I am leaving; my excellent sister, yourself, and the Bertrams in general. You all have so much more heart among you than one finds in the world at large. You all give me a feeling of being able to trust and confide in you, which in common intercourse one knows nothing of. I wish I had settled with Mrs. Fraser not to go to her till after Easter, a much better time for the visit, but now I cannot put her off. And when I am done with her, I must go to her sister, Lady Stronaway, because she was rather my particular friend of the two, but I have not cared much for her these three years."

Am I the only one who wonders at the properness of those words?

After that, there was silence as all three contemplated: Fanny on the different sorts of friendship in the world, Julia on proper behavior, and Miss Crawford on something of less philosophic tendancy. She first spoke again, and stood, walking slowly around the table as she spoke.

"How perfectly I remember my resolving to look for you upstairs, and setting off to find my way to the East room, without having an idea whereabouts it was! How well I remember what I was thinking of as I came along, and my looking in and seeing you and Julia here sitting at this table at work; and then your cousin's astonishment, when he opened the door, at seeing me here! There was never anything quite like it!"

No, there was not. Nor is there anything like wanting to beat someone over pushing against another?s best interests.

Julia watched as Fanny remained quiet, and Miss Crawford, shaking off her thoughts, began to attack Fanny. "Why, Fanny, you are absolutely in a reverie. Thinking, I hope, of one is always thinking of you." Julia watched as Miss Crawford spoke of her wish to take Fanny to London to see the conquest she had made, of the reputation Henry Crawford had as being an old romantic hero, and of some of the girls she knew to be in love with her brother. Most of Miss Crawford's words flew right over Julia's head, but two names stuck out: Janet Fraser (Mrs. Fraser), Margaret Fraser (daughter of Mr. Fraser from a first wife), and Flora Ross (now Lady Stronaway).

I decided to spare you all of the anger of hearing THAT speech.

Then Julia's full attention returned as Miss Crawford said, "But were I to attempt to tell you of all the women whom I have known to be in love with him, I should never have done. It is you, only you, insensible Fanny, who can think of him with anything like indifference! But are you as insensible as you and your confidants profess? No, no, I see you are not."

There was a deep blush on Fanny's face, but it was of extreme vexation. Only a predisposed mind could gain strong suspicion from it.

"Excellent creature!" But then Miss Crawford grew sober, and sat. "I shall not tease you. Everything shall take its course. But, dear Fanny, you must allow that you were not so absolutely unprepared to have the question asked as your cousins? fancy. It is not possible but that you must have had some thoughts on the subject, some surmises as to what might be. You must have seen that he was trying to please you by every attention in his power. Was he not pleasant to you at the ball? And before the ball, the necklace! Oh! you received it just as it was meant. You were as conscious as heart could desire. I remember it perfectly."

Though both had suspected it was so, the confirmation of their suspicions made both Fanny and Julia a touch angry. She ought to have known better, Julia thought as Fanny said, "You mean that your brother knew of the necklace beforehand? Miss Crawford, that was not fair."

Fair is too light a word for it. But Fanny cannot say the words such an action COULD warrant.

"Knew of it! It was his own doing entirely, his own thought. I am ashamed to say that it had never entered my head, but I was delighted to act his proposal for both your sakes."

Julia, shaking her head the tiniest bit, watched as Fanny thought about what to say. "I was concerned at the time of its being so. There was a look in your eye I could not trust, but had I known of it, then nothing should have induced me to accept the necklace. That was an unfair trick you played upon me. And as to your brother's behavior, I was aware of the change in his notice of me; but I considered it nothing; I put it down to merely being his way. I was not blind, Miss Crawford, to what passed between him and my cousins; I saw perfectly well that he was engaging in gallantries which did mean nothing. How was I supposed to think that he could possibly be serious in his intentions towards me after having seen all that I had?"

"I cannot deny that he has been a sad flirt, and cared very little for the havoc he might be making in young ladies' affections. I have often scolded him for it, but it is his only fault; and there is this to be said, that very few young ladies have any affections worth caring for. And then, Fanny, the glory of fixing one who has been shot at by so many, of having it in one's power to pay the debts of one's sex! Oh! I am sure it is not in woman?s natural to refuse such a triumph."

You deny the many faults your brother has, you insult your own sex, and call getting the love of your brother a "triumph?" Miss Crawford, you do your sex a great injustice.

Julia was now angry. She felt the insult to herself and to Maria. Fanny shook her head, frowning. "I cannot call it such. If there are any debts to be paid, it is your brother who owes much to women in general. You do your sex a great disfavour. There are many young ladies whose affections are noble and good. And I cannot think well of a man who sports with any woman's feelings; and there is often a great deal more suffered than a standerby can see."

"I do not defend him. I leave him entirely at your mercy, and when he has got you at Everingham I do not care how much you lecture him. But this I will say, that his fault, the liking to make girls a little in love with him, is not half so dangerous to a wife's happiness, as a tendency to fall in love himself, which he has never been addicted to. And I do seriously and truly believe that he is attached to you in a way that he never was to any woman before; that he loves you with all his heart, and will love you as nearly for ever as possible. If any man ever loved a woman for ever. I think Henry will do so much for you."

He might, but will he be happy staying with a quiet wife? I think not. He's too unstable to settle down.

Fanny could not smile at this; she remained with a neutral expression, looking Miss Crawford in the eye. Julia, now leaning against the wall for support, was further vexed. Does not she know her own brother? She ought to know he cannot be faithful to a woman.

Mary watched, noticing that Fanny had not changed her expression since seeing her head come into the room. Wishing to see a little emotion, she continued, presently, "I cannot imagine Henry ever to have been happier than when he succeeded in getting your brother's commission."

Both girls saw it, and were not pleased. Yet Fanny remained stoic. "Yes, how very kind of him."

"I know he must have exerted himself very much, for I know the parties he had to move. The Admiral hates trouble, and scorns asking favour; and there are so many young men's claims to be attended to in the same way, that a friendship and energy, not very determined, is easily put by. What a happy creature William must be! I wish we could see him."

Fanny and Julia both had to close their eyes. This would forever be a sore point with them as far as Henry Crawford was concerned. He could only have done it to gain Fanny?s heart, but it placed such unhappy demands on her. Soon enough, Mary said, "I should like to sit talking with you here all day, but we must not forget those below, and so good-bye, my dear, my amiable, my excellent Fanny, for though we shall nominally part in the breakfast parlour, I must take my leave of you here. And I do leave, longing for a happy reunion, and trusting that when we meet again it will be under circumstances which may open our hearts to each other, without any remnant or shadow of reserve," she finished the sentence with a very kind embrace, and some agitation of manner.

"I shall see you cousin Edmund in town soon: he talks of being there tolerably soon; and Sir Thomas, I dare say, in the course of the spring; and the Rushworths, I am sure of meeting again and again, but not you. I have two favours to ask, Fanny: one is your correspondence. You must write to me. And the other, that you will often call on Mrs. Grant, and her amends for my being gone."

Tabbi and Coleen: "Don't let her write!"

Patience, ladies. Patience.

Julia froze, nervous about how Fanny could get out of the former. But, her fears were quickly done away with when Fanny spoke. "The latter I shall happily do. The former I cannot give a promise to easily; you have shown yourself to be too compliant with your brother's wishes as far as I am concerned. Your brother?s attentions are most disagreeable, and I am sure you will mention them again and again. If that is what I have to expect, then my answer is no."

Tabbi and Coleen: "Yes!!!!!"

Mary was stunned. "No, no, no! Fanny! You must, you simply must write to me!" she cried. "I cannot bear to go without hearing from you! I beg you, write to me! Henry would be distressed to hear nothing from you -"

"You shall not mention his name to me with regards to his feelings or intentions towards me!" Fanny cried, silencing Mary. Deciding that it was best to get the conference over with, Fanny said, "Very well, but only on some conditions." Mary opened her mouth to protest, but Fanny's glare of anger frightened her into silence. "If you want me to write, you must never do the following: mention or allude to your brother's feelings or inclinations towards myself or anything he might do on the alter of 'pleasing' me; convey messages from him to me or vice versa (had I anything to say to him, I should say it in person); allow him to write in your letters to me; or make me be a conveyer of messages for you and any young man. The first distresses me, and the others are all improper. If you do even one of the above in any of your letters, I shall write a note to warn you that if you do not stop, I shall consider my promise at an end if you persist; and if you do, I shall not write. You will only have my correspondence if you obey those rules."

It was something she wished to not have to deal with, but she saw no other way out.

Mary had no choice but to give her word, and with a hug and a kiss, left in great disappointment for herself and her brother.

(LOUD cheering)

Once Fanny was certain she could not hear Miss Crawford?s steps, she said aloud, "She is gone."

Julia came out from the certain, careful not to rip it in her anger. "Insufferable! She knows you not at all!"

Fanny sighed. "At least they will be gone on the morrow. That was less of an evil than I thought I would deal with, and Mr. Crawford, I hope, will have far less to say."

She proved correct. When the Crawfords and the Grants came for dinner, and spent a while after sitting with them, Henry Crawford scarcely said anything. He actually seemed to be suffering.

(several people): "Suffering? Yeah, right!"

No, he is. But I don?t care to release him from it. ;-)

Had Fanny's state of mind not been so strong, she would have felt for him a little as he really seemed to feel; but while he evidently oppressed, Fanny could not grieve for him; and hoped that when she saw him again, he would either be over her or the husband of some other poor woman.

When it came to the moment of parting, he would take her hand; she could not deny it; he said nothing, however, or nothing she heard,

And none of her cousins heard anything.

and when he had left the room, she felt relief that there had been no tokens of friendship offered.

On the morrow, the Crawfords were gone.

Mr. Crawford gone, Sir Thomas' next object was that he should be missed; and be entertained great hope that his niece would find a blank in the loss of those attentions which at the time she had felt, or fancied, an evil. She had tasted of consequence in its most flattering form; and he did hope that the loss of it, the sinking into nothing, would awaken very wholesome regrets in her mind. He watched her with this idea; but he could not see any success. Her manner around him was retiring, but around Tom and Julia it was very open and warm. He felt he did not understand her, and applied to Edmund to tell him whether she was more or less happy than before.

Edmund saw no symptoms of regret, and thought his father a little unreasonable in supposing the first four days could produce any. What chiefly surprised him was that she actually seemed happier, and was not visibly regretting Crawford's sister. She had been so much to Fanny that it amazed Edmund that she was never spoken of, and little said when her name was mentioned.

We all know that they are block-heads, so I do not need to speak here.

Alas for Edmund, it was this supposed friend and companion who was the chief bane of Fanny's comfort. She was not spoken of without the pain of knowing that she would marry Edmund one day; and even in her rather kind last meeting, she had still been thoughtless and not truly caring about Fanny's feelings.

Happily, Fanny had a visitor by the Friday after the Crawfords were gone. William had received a ten days' leave of absence, and came to Northamptonshire to show his happiness and describe his uniform. He would have happily brought it had cruel custom prohibited its appearance except on duty. And so Fanny, Julia, and Tom were all denied the joy of seeing William in all his glory. Edmund lamented this till Sir Thomas informed him of a plan.

(several readers): Oh, great. THAT.

The scheme was that she and her two cousins should accompany William back to Portsmouth, and spend a little time with her own family. It occurred to him as right, and consulted Edmund, who was delighted with Fanny seeing her family, and of Julia and Tom getting to see William off as well. But Sir Thomas had other motives in sending them away. He certainly wished them to go willingly, but he certainly wished them all to be heartily sick of the Price home before their at least two month visit ended; and that a little abstinence from the elegancies and luxuries of Mansfield Park would bring them all into sober states, and incline them all to a juster estimate of the vaule of that home of greater permanence, and equal comfort, of which she had the offer.

It was a medicinal project upon the understanding of his niece and her two supporters, which he must consider as at present diseased.

(Authoress covers ears as Tabbi and Coleen, among others, shriek)

For Fanny, a residence of over eight years in the abode of wealth and plenty had a little disordered her powers of comparing and judging. Her father's house would, in all probability, teach her the value of a good income; and he trusted that she would be the wiser and happier woman, for the experiment he had devised. For Tom and Julia, he believed that while Fanny had contributed to their coming around, her diseased judgment had diseased their own; a little time in their uncle's house should restore full proper judgment to them, and make them see what a match Fanny had offered to her.

I'm just as P.O.'d as you guys are at Sir Thomas and Edmund. BTW, Tabbi and Coleen, feel free to do a "Fanny kicks the butts of Crawford, Edmund, and Sir Thomas story."

Fanny was delighted with the prospect of seeing her family again, seeing William till the last moment he was on shore. Tom and Julia saw pleasure and good in seeing the aunt and uncle they had never met, and the cousins they knew only by name. Several minutes thought allowed all three to realize what Sir Thomas' motives were; yet they decided they would make it out well; perhaps Fanny would find an excellent match in Portsmouth. It had the added benefit that being away from Edmund could allow her to bear the near certainty of his marrying Miss Crawford, and that the lady would have less reason to write if she did obey Fanny?s rules.

The only drawback was that Lady Bertram would be uncomfortable without them; they hoped she could manage having Mrs. Norris and Mrs. Grant as her companions. And despite Mrs. Norris' saying that Fanny could be gotten along well without, Lady Bertram was certain that "she would miss her very much."

The next step was to communicate with Portsmouth. Fanny wrote to make the offer; and her mother's answer, though short, was so kind - a few simple lines expressed so natural and motherly a joy in the prospect of seeing her child again, and meeting two of her sister's children, as to confirm all the daughter's hopes of happiness in being with her - allowing Fanny to hope that she should now find a warm and affectionate friend in the "mamma" who had certainly shown no remarkable fondness for her formerly; but this she could assume to have been partly due to her having been so frail and sickly before, and her formerly very fearful temper had probably alienated love; now that she was healthier and bolder, she would handle her home better.

(muttered disagreement)

William was almost as happy in the plan as his sister. It would be the greatest pleasure to him to have her there to the last moment before he sailed, and to have Tom and Julia with her was a greater joy. He spoke at length about the state of the home and the people they would find there.

By the time Mrs. Price?s answer arrived, there was but a few days left to spend at Mansfield. The young people had a brief scare by Mrs. Norris' suggesting she would accompany them, expressing a wish to see "poor sister Price";

(shrieks of horror)

but this did not last an hour. The expense required to herself and her being needed at Mansfield made her give up the idea, to the infinite relief of her nephews and nieces.

Whew!

Edmund's plans to be in London were affected; he was obliged to remain at Mansfield a few weeks later than he had planned on. He gave Fanny reason for discomfort to the last night at Mansfield; his talks about his plans pained her, and the prospect of a letter from him now became a subject of terror!

Among other objects of potential terror was the letters she had received from Miss Crawford. She had heard from her within a day of William's arrival; and, sure enough, the rules had been broken. She mentioned Mansfield in such a way that could only have been meant for Edmund to hear, made several mentions of him and his hopes, and he even wrote in her letters! The worst was that Edmund had delivered the letter to Fanny upon its arrival and insisted on her reading the chief of it. Julia and Tom tried to remind Edmund about how improper the Crawfords were being, but to no avail; they did manage to get him away long enough that Fanny composed a short note, carrying out what she had said she would. Within a few days, another letter came, and asked her to forgive them. "Henry wishes to have something to say to you, and they are such that only his hand should write them," Miss Crawford has written before her brother did.

Tom had tried to keep Edmund from knowing about Miss Crawford's letters, but he learned from Baddeley that Sir Thomas had given an order that letters be handed to himself or to Edmund.

Confirming that there was, indeed, a family feud.

The second letter was given to Fanny, but Tom had managed to keep Edmund away long enough that Fanny and Julia could hurry off to see if the contents were at all different; and upon seeing they were not, Fanny burned the letter. Fortunately, Edmund's help had been quickly needed in the village, and that allowed Fanny to escape reproaches for burning that letter and the one that came after.

Tabbi and Coleen: "Yes!"

And so when the last evening at Mansfield came, the young people made certain they had all they needed. Along with the items they would need, Fanny and Julia had packed a trunk of items that they would sell in Portsmouth to help Fanny's family; among them was the offending necklace and case from the Crawfords.

(cheering)

Though going willingly and eagerly, Fanny saw still nervous and sad upon leaving. She had tears for every room in the house, and much more for every beloved inhabitant. She clung to her aunt; nervously bid farewell to her uncle; and managed to receive Edmund's brotherly affectionate farewell. Mrs. Norris was happy that Fanny was going, but gave a respectable farewell. She was granted the same from her nephews and other niece. Lady Bertram received fond farewells; Sir Thomas and William bade good-bye with warmth, and the good-bye between himself and his children was quite strained; and Edmund gave them their due as his beloved siblings.

All this passed overnight, for the journey was to begin very early in the morning; and when the small, diminished party met at breakfast, William and Fanny and Julia and Tom were talked of as already advanced one stage.

Chapter Eighteen

Posted on Tuesday, 8 May 2001

The novelty of traveling for the two girls, and the happiness of all three Mansfield youths of being with William, was such that they could be cheerful and forget about their troubles.

(Authoress looks around as people give nods and affirmative opinions)

Of pleasant talk there was no end. Everything supplied an amusement to the high glee of William's mind, and he was full of frolic and joke in the intervals of their higher-toned subjects, all of which ended, if they did not begin, in praise of the "Thrush," conjectures how Fanny and her cousins would be employed during their stay, schemes for an action with some superior force, which (supposing the first lieutenant out of the way, and William was not very merciful to the first lieutenant)

I suspect that the man thinks William did not deserve his promotion.

was to give him the next step as soon as possible, or speculations upon prize-money, which was to be generously distributed at home, with only the reservation of enough to allow himself to ensure that he and Fanny would comfortably pass the rest of their lives.

That speculation brought much teasing from their cousins.

No mention of anything related to the Crawfords passed between them. William was aware of the serious faults and bad aspects of the brother's character, and the pain the sister gave his own dear sister. He still felt grateful to Crawford for securing the promotion, but he understood that his sister was fully justified in her belief that she should never accept the man.

(collective cheer): Yay, William!!!

The journey proceeded safely and cheerfully, and as expeditiously as could rationally be hoped in the change from the snowy month of January to the dirty month of February. They entered Oxford, but Fanny and Julia could only catch a hasty glimpse of Edmund's college as they passed along, and made no stop anywhere, till they reached Newbury, where a comfortable meal uniting dinner and supper, wound up the enjoyments and fatigues of the day.

The next morning saw them off again at an early hour; and with no events, and no delays, they regularly advanced, and were in the environs of Portsmouth while there enough daylight for Fanny, Julia, and Tom to look around them. They passed the drawbridge, and entered the town; and the light was only beginning to fade when they finally were drawn up before the door of a small house now inhabited by Mr. Price.

Fanny became increasingly uneasy as they approached the house; thoughts about how her family would welcome her flooded her mind. Julia and Tom were likewise wondering how to properly receive the family they were about to meet.

You all just have to know what to do, and the household will love you all.

The moment William started to open the door, a young boy of eleven hurried out of the house and came up to them. Sam? Fanny wondered, amazed at how her brother had grown. "There you are," he exclaimed. "We have been looking for you this half-hour. I saw the 'Thrush' today. It is a beautiful sight."

William had gotten out by then, and so had Tom. William gestured to Tom: "Sam, this is your cousin Tom."

Sam extended his hand, which Tom took. "Glad you are come, cousin."

"I am glad to finally meet you, Sam."

Fanny was handed out as Tom spoke. Quick hellos were exchanged between her and brother, and likewise for Julia and Sam. They then noticed the two young boys, nine and eight respectively, standing in the door, watching the newcomers. Fanny recognized the older as her brother Tommy by his face, and knew the other had to be Charles, the youngest of the family.

I know in the book he is not, but I am taking a few liberties. I HAVE made considerable changes to the story already!

They gave their male cousin a rather eager greeting, and a little less eager greeting to both their sister and their other cousin. While Tom, William, and Sam struggled with the trunks, Fanny and Julia were dragged inside by Tommy

I must make it easy to tell Tom Bertram and Tom Price apart, and it would not do to call the former "Tommy."

and Charles, who both hollered, "They're here!" They entered the narrow entrance passage of the house, and observed a trollopy-looking maidservant come out of a room and call up the stairs, from where the sounds of people coming down in a hurry came, "Get me our mistress!"

A moment later, a girl of ten years, another of sixteen, and their mother came down; the two latter each carried clothing on one arm.

Julia was struck by how much in looks her mother and aunt had in common, and Fanny scarcely less so as she held out her arms, offering a hug. "Mamma!"

"Fanny!" her mother exclaimed, looking at her. "I declare!" She came forward to hug her child and look at her as if she had seen a ghost. Fanny asked if she was well; to which Mrs. Price replied, "I am well. I just see so much of my aunt Frances in you. She was my namesake." Then her eyes fell upon Julia, and another memory came forward as she received and gave a hug. "My aunt Anna's looks seem to have transferred straight to you." Tears were in her eyes as she looked back and forth between her daughter and niece.

The loss of her family had taken a toll on her heart, and the two girls brought times she had nearly forgotten about back into full focus.

A moment of pulling herself together, and she motioned to the girls behind her. "Fanny, do you know your sisters? Betsy," pointing to the younger, "and Susan."

Susan, the bolder of the two, came up first and hugged each girl. Betsy gave hugs too. Both then led them into a small room, for a family the size of the Prices.

"Here is the parlour, Fanny and Julia," Betsy announced, acting the part of a proper hostess.

Susan hurriedly placed the cloth items down on a chair, and asked, "How do you like our home?"

Julia answered, "It seems agreeable enough. You must forgive me; I am not used to a home this size; having known much larger for all of my life this may seem confined at first to me."

Julia and Fanny realized that they would never speak ill of the white attic again; it was spacious compared to this home.

"I understand," Susan replied. "Pardon me, I must finish moving my things so you both have room to place yours." With that she hurried back upstairs.

Mrs. Price was overheard welcoming William with all the warmth Fanny remembered her giving him. The conversation was indistinct, but the attention of Fanny and Julia was quickly distracted by Tommy and Charles. "Do you know any stories, sister and cousin?"

"Some," Fanny replied, "but if you want to hear many good stories, ask your cousin Tom to read to you. He knows many stories by heart."

Reading to all the poor children of the village was a great teacher of patience for such a young man.

Both girls were pushed hard for information on what kinds of stories by the boys and by Betsy, and they quickly realized that none of the three youngest Price children could read; yet the eagerness to hear stories gave some hope that they would be motivated to learn. They were like any other children, and wished to her exciting adventure stories. That happened to be the kind Tom had read over and over to the village children.

So there was some prompt hope that the house would have moments of quiet.

Another thing they realized was the household could make a lot of noise; the girls were certain they had not heard half of what could be heard. For Fanny, this was not a pleasing prospect, but her patience taught her to endure almost anything. Julia and Tom knew that this would show how much they had learned over the past several months.

At last, all the trunks were brought into the house, and Sam led his mother, older brother, and cousin into the parlor. Mrs. Price was fretting. "Nearly a week till Sam and William are due to leave, but what shall we do for Sam's things?"

Tom answered her: "If there is nothing useful here, then I will find a trunk for his things."

Mrs. Price seemed startled, but then realized that she had not welcomed her nephew. "O! dear me! I have not even looked at you, nephew!" She hugged him at once, and each could see a relation in the other's looks. Tom observed that she brought his mother to mind. Mrs. Price saw her departed father; they had the same colouring and shape of head. "O! my poor dears! How tired you all must be! Betsy and I have been watching for you this half hour."

"From the window," Betsy added.

For the sake of getting a few words in.

"Should you like anything? Some tea, perhaps?"

"Yes, Mamma; dearly," said William and Fanny.

"And you two?"

"Please, aunt," said Julia and Tom.

"Betsy, run into the kitchen and tell Rebecca to make some tea." Betsy happily obliged, wanting to show her elegant cousins and sister what a helpful person she was. "I wish we had the bell mended," Mrs. Price lamented, "but there is so much else to get done here."

As she spoke, Susan came back into the room. Unfortunately, she did not notice that her male cousin was in her way and ran into him. She would have fallen to the floor had Tom not caught her and helped her to her feet. Only then did their eyes meet, and each caught their breath.

(collective thought) "Aw!!!!!"

The rest of the room watched in surprise. William and Mrs. Price's surprise slowly turned into delight at that chance; the young children looked on in disgust; Fanny and Julia looked at each other with wide smiles and wondered if there would be a happy wedding soon. It also allowed them to get back at Tom for all is teasing of them over who they were looking for.

Sibling pay-back time!

Neither appeared to be about to came out of the trance, and so Fanny cleared her throat to spare them from the outburst that her younger siblings were about to make. Her cousin and sister nearly jumped away from each other, but their eyes never completely left one another. Susan shyly extended her hand. "You must be my cousin Tom."

Tom took it, just as shyly. "And you must be Susan."

Mrs. Price smiled wistfully at her daughter and nephew, remembering being a young woman herself and with romance on her mind; but upon noticing her youngest were ready to throw temper tantrums,

For what young boy wants to see anything mushy? They go "Yuck!"

she asked, "Should I have a fire started, Fanny and Julia?"

Julia's smile turned mischievous. "Oh, I think some in this room are warm enough." Only then did Tom come out of his trance; giving Julia a glare, which produced bigger smiles from his teasing sister and cousin.

Mrs. Price decided to alleviate the situation by suggesting that Susan show Fanny and Julia the room the three would share. She did, but glanced at her handsome cousin up till he was out of her sight.

Ah... the first feelings of love in Susan's heart, and the first true ones of such in Tom's. I think this will be interesting.

William had to persuade Tom to place his things in the room he would stay in; it was the room that William, John, and Richard had used to share, but now it was just William and Tom in the room till the former was to leave for duty. The remaining four children had to share a room together, and that could make for unpleasant situations.

When Susan led her sister and cousin back down, Tom and William were back down as well. Fanny and Julia had both been distressed by the noise the boys, Betsy, Mrs. Price, and the two servants were making several minutes before. Fortunately, Tom had brought some books for the family. Sam found himself owner of a book describing the parts of the world England's influence reached, and was lost in reading it. The younger children's attention was caught by Tom offering to read them a story about pirates. It quieted them, and Tom's reading voice had an engaging quality to it.

Such that Susan would find herself listening and laughing along with her siblings.

Fanny and Julia took it upon themselves to handle the trouble between the servants and Mrs. Price. It soon turned out that the trouble was merely between Mrs. Price and Rebecca; Sally was trying to calm both sides. The disagreement was over dinner, and Julia's quick mind found a solution to make both sides happy. Fanny aided with little suggestions, and soon the house was quiet but for Tom reading and the noise of tea and dinner being prepared. Mrs. Price commented to the girls as they went back into the parlor that the house was never this quiet save for Sunday while they were at church.

You were saying that they'd whip the family into shape, Kerry? Did you think it would happen this quickly?

But the quiet did not last; Mr. Price's loud voice preceded himself. He entered the parlor, greeting William happily and talking all about the "Thrush." William greeted him, and brought Fanny

Who was feeling nervous at meeting her father again.

to his attention. With an acknowledgement that he had quite forgot her, Mr. Price now received his daughter; and having given her a cordial hug, and observed that she was grown into a woman, and he supposed would be wanting a husband soon, seemed very much inclined to forget her again. But William also brought his cousins to his father's notice; Julia was given the same treatment Fanny was; Tom, being Sir Thomas' heir and responsible in a large part for the quiet the house was now in, was greeted more warmly. Mr. Price could not be persuaded to think of his eldest daughter or his niece no matter how William and Tom tried, and Julia and Fanny resigned themselves to that. But that Tom was delighted in had to be a comfort, and Mr. Price forgave him when the youngest in the room demanded he continue with the story. William and Mr. Price listened as well, and Mr. Price delighted his youngest with his pirate impressions, made possible by his excellent ability to roll his "r's".

(collective Lydia snorts)

Dinner was, for the Mansfield youths, hard to handle; yet the patience all had or learned allowed them to eat all that was put on their plates.

With Tom and Julia around, Fanny's health would be well-looked after.

The quiet continued even after dinner. Tom read another story to the youngest, Sam read from his book, William and Mr. Price talked, and the ladies were left to mend clothing and discuss running a household. Mrs. Price had many inquiries on how the servants at Mansfield were handled, and received answers to many of them. She further lamented on the shocking state of Portsmouth servants, and talked of the many complaints the family had against Rebecca, and when Fanny observed that they would likely part with her when her year was up, Mrs. Price shook her head sadly. "Her year! I am sure I shall be rid of her before she has stayed a year, for that will not be up till November. Servants are come to such a pass, my dears, in Portsmouth, that is it quite a miracle if one keeps them more than half a year." She further observed how things were done in the house; how she, Mrs. Price, did nearly half the work herself and how there was always someone underfoot.

The conversation reminded Fanny of her late sister, Mary. She had been Fanny's favorite of her sisters, and when news of her death finally reached her she had cried for some time. When Julia realized what made her aunt become quiet, she vowed not to mention that name as to not give any pain to her family. Betsy, as Fanny had admitted, looked a great deal like Mary, and she daily brought Mary's image into Mrs. Price's mind.

Fanny, having these thoughts, stood to put away some mended clothing, and upon walking back saw Betsy holding something in her hands. "What have you got there, my love?" asked Fanny. "May I see it?" Betsy did; it was a silver knife.

(collective thought) "Uh, oh!"

Up jumped Susan. "Mama! she is taken it again! It is my knife!" cried she as she hurried after Betsy, who fled to her mother's protection. "Sister Mary gave it to me upon her deathbed," she explained to her sister and cousins. "And Betsy will only spoil it! You know you promised she would not have it in her hands!" she cried to her mother.

"Why, Susan, why must you be so cross about that knife. I wish you would not be. Poor little Betsy," said she, pulling her into her arms; "how cross Susan is to you! But you should not have taken it out, my dear, when I sent you to the drawer. You know I told you not to touch it, because Susan is so cross about it. I must hide it another time, Betsy. Poor Mary little thought it would be such a bone of contention when she gave it me to keep, only two hours before she died. Poor little soul! She could but just speak to be heard, and she said so prettily, 'Let sister Susan have my knife, mamma, when I am dead and buried.' Poor little dear! She was so fond of it, Fanny and Julia and Tom, that she would have it lie by her in bed, all through her illness. It was the gift of her good godmother, old Mrs. Admiral Maxwell, only six weeks before she was taken for death. Poor little sweet creature!" The emotions she had felt since seeing the faces of those long departed in her daughter and niece and nephew, and from the memory of Mary's death was too much for her; Mrs. Price began weeping. All other noises had been silenced, and even Mr. Price knew enough to not say anything.

Good for him!

When Mrs. Price regained the ability to speak, she added, "Betsy, you have not the luck of such a good godmother. Aunt Norris lives to far off to think of such little people as you."

Fanny, though she knew Aunt Norris was sent a message hoping her god-daughter was a good little girl and had learnt her book, knew that she would hardly ever think to get a serious gift for Betsy. Yet there had been talk of a prayer book for Betsy; but of the two her husband had owned, one was too cumbersome to be carried by a child, and the other had too small print for a child's eyes.

Soon, it was time for the children to go to bed, and the elder ones joined soon after. It would be a long Wednesday, and the Mansfield youths planned on going out to the shops to sell some of the items they brought with them.

Breakfast was as unappealing as dinner, but Fanny and her cousins put on brave faces. Before long, Tommy and Charles were off to school, Sam was preparing for his midshipman post, Mr. Price left to return his neighbor's paper, Betsy was helping her mother with chores, and the others were out and about.

William had to stop by the "Thrush," but he first showed his sisters and cousins were the good shops were, and the five of them

For Susan was with them.

stopped by the circulating library. Tom arranged for membership for himself, Julia, and Fanny. William could not sign because he would be gone soon, but he would take the time to read a book Fanny or his cousins might bring him before he left.

With that done, William brought them by the harbour, and Fanny got to see the "Thrush" in all her glory; the bright sun gave the ship such a distinction about her. Fanny could not stop praising the ship, and their companions were hardly less delighted with her than Fanny was.

I always felt it a pity Fanny did not see the "Thrush," so I decided to fix that!

But soon William had to head to speak with his captain, and so the rest went back towards the nice shops. They soon split into two groups: Fanny and Tom, and Julia and Susan. The former would try shops in one part of the area, and the latter would try the rest. They would be home as quickly as possible.

Tom and Fanny's first stop was a jewelry shop; their hope was to sell as much as they could of the items fit to be sold there. The male owner was there, and agreed to see their wares. They placed half the jewelry items on a counter, and waited as he examined them to see their condition and value. The wait seemed to take for ever, but at last, after making some notes to himself, he told them he would take all of what they showed him and asked to see the rest. Excited, Fanny placed the rest on the counter, including the necklace and case of Miss Crawford.

(collective gasp)

This wait seemed to take even longer, and his final decision was slightly disappointing: he would take half of those wares, and that did not include Miss Crawford's gift.

(several shouts of "What?!")

But as Fanny and Tom were about to pack what had not been taken while the man wrote up a letter of credit, another man (excellently dressed) came up to look at them. He was an American and looking for jewelry to take home to his wife; upon seeing what was left, he announced he would take them. He paid a price higher than what the merchant would have paid had he been able to take them. Fanny would have disputed that under any other circumstance, but she was too delighted to be rid of the dreaded necklace and case to haggle over the price. She and Tom left the store with a lighter load, and better able to help her family.

And to provide for herself.

It then took several stops to sell the garments they wished to sell, but they did at last sell all they had of the things they brought to sell, and it was a relief to both of them. But Fanny did have a stop she wished to make. Tom had expressed a wish to help Susan keep the knife to herself, but thought he should not due to the sudden feelings he had upon meeting her. Fanny assured him of a plan of hers: to buy Betsy a new silver knife of her own.

Julia and Susan had the same luck, but it was the garments they sold all at one store instead of the jewelry they had. Those took several stops to be rid of. At last, they made a brief stop to get good bread to go with the family's meal; then they went off towards home.

However, they not gone too far and were not looking where they were going when they bumped into two finely dressed men. It would have knocked the girls to the ground had the men not stopped their falls and helped them back to their feet. When they looked up to see who the men were, they saw two tall men; the best dressed of the two had red hair and cobalt blue eyes, and the latter was blond with a different shade of deep blue eyes. Julia found her breath taken away by the former, but Susan was unaffected.

Perfection was in her cousin, you see.

"We are so sorry, ladies," said the blond man, after his companion seemed as transfixed by Julia as she was with him. The two returned to reality as Susan suppressed a laugh. "I fear we did not look when we should have."

"No, we share in the blame," insisted Susan, with her usual forwardness; "had we been looking, we would not have run into you two."

"Please," said the red-haired man, "let us forget about blame. May we escort you ladies home?" He asked with such pleasantness and openness that neither girl felt uncomfortable in agreeing.

"I am afraid we do not know whom we are obliged to for such kindness," Julia said, wishing to hear the red-haired man speak again.

Ah... Julia IS quite over Mr. Crawford, is she not? (g)

"The Marquis of Alverstoke," said the red-head, tipping his hat towards the ladies. The girls turned to the blond, who introduced himself as "Captain Lord Matthew Alexander, second son of the Duke of Norfolk."

The girls introduced themselves, and almost at once they found themselves at the door of the Price home. "Will you not come in," asked Julia, feeling a wish to know the men better.

But we may be assured WHICH man she wants to know the best.

They hesitated, but Lord Alverstoke

In case you're wondering, I was so stuck on a name for him that I pulled one off of a Georgette Heyer novel.

decided to meet the aunt and uncle Miss Bertram was staying with. So they went it. Mr. Price and William were not yet home, but Mrs. Price and Betsy proved to be good hostesses. Lord Alverstoke proved to be a pleasant, good-natured, serious fellow, but had a sense of humour that, unbeknowst to him, made Julia's stomach flutter. Lord Matthew Alexander was a light-hearted man, but took his duty as a captain of His Majesty's navy and family duties seriously. When William and Mr. Price arrived, the party became very talkative, and stories about sailing were exchanged.

The two young men were about to leave when Fanny and Tom returned. They were introduced, but all

Including Mr. Price.

noticed how struck by each other Fanny and Lord Matthew Alexander were. There was only time for a little more conversation before the two lords were obliged to leave, but they promised to be back for a longer time on the morrow. Tom, Susan, William, and Mrs. Price watched as Fanny and Julia stepped out into the street to watch the two lords leave. Julia hoped she really had found someone far better than Mr. Crawford; this felt like he could be the one.

Do not get your hopes too high, Julia.

Fanny had no such thoughts as she watched the captain leave, but she could not help but admire his appearance; even to the point of noticing how well his breeches fit him. Realizing what she was thinking, Fanny turned scarlet and hurried back into the house. Julia came out of her stupor and noticed Fanny's face. She and Tom wondered if she might be on her way to letting go of Edmund and being ready to love another.

Fanny and her cousins had been worried by no letters having come from Maria since just before Mr. Crawford proposed. Concern shot through the roof as it had been almost a month since her last letter. But, while they were waiting for the lords to arrive, a knock brought a letter from town with the Rushworth seal on it. The previous evening had been taken to acquaint Fanny's family about the circumstances that led to their coming, and they had been intrigued when Mrs. Price had frozen when the name "Crawford" was mentioned. She would not explain the look of anger at a memory that came to her face.

(collective gasp) "Tell us! Tell us!"

Not yet.

At length, Fanny finally opened the letter, her cousins at her side, and Susan and her mother nearby. It was written in an agitated manner and went as follows:

January 26, 1809
Wimpole Street

My dear siblings and cousins,

I am so sorry I did not respond sooner. I have been quite distracted with getting my new townhouse furnished, and I have been feeling unwell lately. But, that it not the important matter. Mr. Rushworth does well, and his mother is enjoying Bath. Yet I know that is not what you are waiting to hear from me. You want to know my feelings on a certain matter.

I confess to being as shocked as you all were when I received your last letter. It was so It seems I am not quite done with my feelings for Mr. Crawford. At least I feel more for you, Fanny. I did not believe that he could possibly want to propose to you. It does not fit with who he is. You see I am not saying much. You three said it all in your letters. I am angry at everyone at home. My father for not listening to you three, my mother for only thinking of what 'a fine match Fanny and Mr. Crawford would make,' my aunt Norris for being angry at Fanny for receiving the offer, Miss Crawford for helping her brother, Mr. Crawford for everything, and Edmund for being such a blockhead!!!!! Pardon me, but if I continue I will never be done. I am hurt, yes; but I am far more angry for Fanny's sake.

I must conclude shortly, as I want this letter to reach you at Portsmouth. But there is one last thing I shall tell you that I am not yet to tell the rest of my family (save for Mr. Rushworth and his mother): I am pregnant. Yes, you read right. I have been unwell since late December, as you recall my telling you, and the doctor just confirmed Mrs. Rushworth's suspicions. My child will arrive around the middle of August, if he or she makes it past the first few months. I am telling you because I do not like to keep secrets from you. The doctor says I shall fell better in several weeks, but I confess that feels far too long for me! I wonder how my mother dealt with it.

But I must conclude now. Mr. Rushworth is calling, and I must sleep for a while. Write me as soon as possible.

Your struggling to be patient sister,
Maria

(collective thought) "Poor Maria! To be having Mr. Rushworth's child, and then to hear about Mr. Crawford! Will she pull through?"

As if I was about to tell you.

Silence reigned in the parlour until Betsy came in with a garment for her mother to mend. Mrs. Price sighed, "My poor niece. I hope she does completely let go of the nephew of that man." She spat out the last two words, but still gave no explanation of her reaction.

Before any could ask again, there was a knock at the door.

Continued In Next Section