Beginning, Previous Section,Section V
Jump to new as of March 23, 2004
Chapter 19 Posted on Sunday, 17 March 2002
The knock sent a quick bustle into the room to make it presentable by Portsmouth standards.
Standards even my geek father might think were disgusting.
Within moments Rebecca has gone to get the door, and the voices of Lord Alverstoke and Lord Matthew informed the Prices that the promised visitors had arrived. Julia reached up to push back a stray curl, and received teasing smiles from Fanny and Tom; blushing, she put back down her hand. She took a deep breath and was prepared when Rebecca brought the two men into the parlour. Rebecca announced them as a servant was expected to, and then went back to the kitchen.
To do heaven knows what. Perhaps make greasy butter.
Mrs. Price's manners in being a hostess were excellent and had not suffered for all the years she had been without such elegant visitors; her welcome of the two agreeable young lords was as pleasant as it had been the other day. Betsy's manners were also at their best.
A happy relief to her siblings and cousins.
The other young people's manner of greeting the men was as genuine as Mrs. Price's, but not quite as warm; Julia recalled proper manners and held the warmth of her regard towards Lord Alverstoke in check. I cannot let myself fall into my old habits, she reminded herself. I must remember to make men go after me, and not go after them. Even if one happens to be the best-looking man I have ever seen.
(Authoress shakes her head with a smile) Aw. "Poor worm, thou art infected."*
The initial minutes of the call went pleasantly, and conversation was fairly shared. As it wore on, Lord Alverstoke was drawn into a conversation about London solely with Mrs. Price, Tom, and Julia. Betsy sat listening while Susan was obliged to handle another dispute between the servants. Sam was away with William at the dock, preparing for their journey, so neither of them could be expected to come home to join. Mr. Price was also out, and was not expected to return for several hours.
Listening to Lord Alverstoke made Julia think more highly of him. He had looks that Mr. Crawford could never hope to have, he was properly considerate of others, and made no pointed attempt at gaining the good opinion of herself. That was enough to recommend him to her, for she recalled how Mr. Crawford had placed an effort into gaining her and Maria's good opinion. Disinterestedness was important to her after what had happened with Mr. Crawford, and to find it in a man was a relief to her; and so she was ready to think quite well of him.
That left Fanny to entertain Lord Matthew, as he asked to be called. Julia took a moment to look in his and Fanny's direction. Several minutes of being the only person talking to him must have given Fanny a great deal of insight into him. She had not been insensible of his outward qualities, Julia had noticed, and Julia knew that Fanny was shocked by how he had affected her thoughts. To say that she (or Tom) wished Fanny to forget Edmund was wrong; that was the last thing they wished would happen. Edmund had never been unkind to her, and he was a good man, as blind as he could be and as vexing as that blindness was.
And let me say that problem is no minor matter. That stupid conversation from three chapters ago in this story...
Besides, someone of Fanny's heart could not possibly forget a first love. It was enough to make Julia smile at her cousin, who did not notice.
(smirks)
That she did not was no wonder to an observer. Lord Matthew's family had many handsome people in it, and he was blessed with handsomeness and excellent symmetry and balance of feature; his eyes, enchanting to look into, could obviously shine with all manner of emotions. His manner was open, friendly, and genuine; while there could be a slight detachment in his voice at times, his expressions told that he meant whatever he said; Julia thought it made him seem more trustworthy, which made her very glad as she hoped she now had better judgment of people and most importantly of men.
(Collective Dwiggie applause)
Julia, while watching and listening to Lord Alverstoke intently, also paid attention to how Fanny reacted to Lord Matthew. She watched, and saw how Fanny was carefully being polite and guarded, yet very open to a new acquaintance for her. That was interesting, but it seemed that Lord Matthew knew, despite only knowing her since yesterday, how to bring out the playful spirit that existed beneath the shy, reserved exterior. He made Fanny feel comfortable and free to be herself. That shall get her into society more easily, and should help her find a husband even sooner.
No doubt, but I cannot see Fanny going about laughing and chatting with every person who comes her way.
With those thoughts, Julia turned her full attention back to Lord Alverstoke, who was regaling them with a tale of meeting some admirals who were "rather full of themselves, but had heads more empty than a pitcher after having been in the sun for hours."
You know the kind of men I am talking of. The ones that have no use except to fill space at balls and meetings.
The visit took several hours longer than usual customs said was appropriate; the party was enjoying themselves too much to pay attention to custom.
For why should customs prohibit such clean fun?
Once the gentleman took their leave, with the promise of another visit in two days and after Mr. Price, William, and Sam had seen and spoken to both of them, the family sat down to talk about them. Fanny and Julia were pressed first for their thoughts, and they gave guarded answers, which drew looks from Tom that he would tease them about it later.
"Well, well," said Mr. Price, "by G-d, those are fine young men, and they seem to fancy Fan and Jul, eh?"
Said with a fatherly teasing smile.
Julia blushed, but Fanny merely coloured a little. Mr. Price continued, "But I don't speak of their clothing when I say fine; their characters are much finer than any clothing could make them look. The Captain
For that was his nickname for Lord Matthew.
has the look of an excellent officer. He's seen war at its worst, and the man can still think well of his fellow men. William, you would do very well to befriend him. He would do you much more good than that admiral who got you the promotion. Oh, I thank him for gettin' you it, but I don't want have to thank him for anything else. He and his nephew have gone quite enough to my family!"
Fanny, Tom, and Julia were surprised by the final outburst. They had no idea Mr. Price disliked the Crawfords so much. "What did he have against either one," all three thought. "Sir," said Tom, cautiously, "what do you have against those two men? I myself have complaints about both men, but I am curious to know yours."
Curiosity may have killed the cat, but it was a driving force for Tom's coming around to become a good person.
Mr. Price snorted. "Why, that when your aunt was a Miss Ward, he tried to force her to marry him. The bastard!"
Tom heard the other words Mr. Price had in mind to use, but was glad he only used a choice name for either Crawford man.
"My dear," said Mrs. Price, "would you mind allowing me to be the one to tell that story? I am not ready just yet to tell the girls, dearest William, and my nephew (for they are the only ones who would have the patience to hear the story)."
Mr. Price decided to be quiet on the subject, but had to go collect something from a neighbor. He asked William and Tom to help him bring it. They were out of the house within two minutes.
Once they were gone, Mrs. Price turned to her two elder daughters and her niece and asked them to take a walk till dinner. "I need to collect my thoughts; I shall be telling you what happened all those years ago soon enough, but I need to think about what to say."
The girls found their coats and bonnets, and walked towards the area where the Thrush was docked. They had noticed Betsy move away to play with the knife Fanny had presented her with just before Maria's letter arrived. Once at the sea, they admired the view in silence for several minutes, each with their own thoughts.
Julia and Susan I can safely say were thinking very well of two certain gentlemen. I cannot say quite the same about Fanny towards another gentleman; to be sure, another was also in her thoughts.
"Well, Fanny," said Julia after a long silence, "tell me, what do you think of the Captain? He spoke to you a great deal, and I want to know what sort of opinion he has given you."
Fanny smiled. Now that they were away from the other members of their family, the girls felt free to be more open with their words. Fanny had felt the greatest need to be cautious in her praise of Lord Matthew, but now she could express openly how much she admired him,
To the extent she was willing to admit to.
and when she spoke of him, she became more lively than her cousin could recall her being about any man.
Including, and much to Julia's surprise, Edmund.
"He is everything a young man ought to be," said she, "sensible, good-humoured, intelligent, respectful of other's feelings and comfort and opinions, amiable, and honourable. And even lively! I never saw such happy manners! - so much ease, with such perfect breeding! And tempered by prudence and sense; it is so refreshing to see!"
"Handsome too," replied Susan, "which a young gentleman ought to be if he possibly can. It sounds that this Mr. Crawford does not understand how ugly he is."
Fanny laughed. "Susan, that is unkind. He is only black and plain."
Being away from the Crawfords allowed Fanny to laugh more freely, and made her oddly disposed to not speak so ill of either one.
"Only black and plain?" asked Julia. "Fanny, can you seriously tell me that you call a man who is working on growing one eyebrow only black and plain?" All three shared a good laugh at Mr. Crawford's expense.
"Okay," said Fanny, once her laughter quieted, "I shall say that his face is plain, his eyes and manners are wicked, and his eyebrows (as he still has two; for how much longer is yet to be determined) are ugly. How is that, Julia?"
"Better, much better."
Hey, they need their laughs anywhere they can get them. And they should be joyful if they can be.
A moment of quiet passed, marred only by giggling at the said man. At last, Julia resumed talk of their prior subject. Getting back to Lord Matthew, he is certainly a proper gentleman in every way that matters. He is by all accounts an excellent captain, a dutiful son, an ideal brother, and I have heard through talk around the shops that he is kind and generous. And he seems to like you, Fanny, very much, which ought to be proof of good judgment, but sadly Mr. Crawford has proven that liking you is not a sign of good judgment or good taste. However, Lord Matthew's character seems complete, and I shall give you full leave to like him as you have liked many stupider a person."
The last was said with a smile. She meant no offence to anyone.
"Dear Julia!"
A moment's pause followed before Fanny added, "He spoke very highly of his sister; he commented that I seem very like her. It sounds, however, that he could be happier in the realm of elder brothers, though I suppose he cannot help that."
"What do you mean, Fanny," said Susan.
Fanny hesitated, but then pressed forward. "He would not give particulars and there was a look in his eye that suggested a painful memory was begin brought forward, but he said he would not wish me or any young lady to meet his brother, the heir of their father. It seems the character of Viscount Alexander leaves much to be desired; that is about the way he put it. I shall say this much: I would not wish to meet him."
Julia was thoughtful. "He sounds like the kind of man you would not go anywhere near without two men with you; one strong man to protect you physically, and another carrying a shotgun."
(some Dwiggie cheering)
"I do not argue with that; he sounds scary," said Susan. Their conversation halted for a moment. Julia glanced at the pocket watch Tom had given her some years back, and saw that they had more time to remain outside. "Let us go to other, more pleasant topics," she suggested.
"Good," said Fanny. "Now, let us talk about Lord Alverstoke. He was taking quite a bit of notice of you even though he was talking to all of you. Tell us what you really think of him."
Julia blushed, which told a lot more than she would have cared to admit even to her good lady cousins.
She would surely have not liked to have Tom's brotherly teasing added to the mix, but that could not be avoided. Nor could his protectiveness, if his lordship got out of line.
"I could bore you if I started talking about all that I like about him. If I admitted to some of them, I would have to tease both of you to keep myself from being teased too much. I think the simplest way is to think of how you described Lord Matthew, Fanny. The only differences are that his handsomeness is different from Lord Matthew's, the two vary in degree of outward seriousness, and in sense of humor. Lord Alverstoke's is more... devilish than Lord Matthew's, and that was a surprise to me; I suppose that is because he is more outwardly serious and must compensate somehow."
Fanny nodded. "But I do see a great many similarities between the men, but I suppose that can be attributed to their having known each other for so many years."
"So, in short, both men's characters are complete. When shall I be able to wish both of you girls joy?"
Guess Mr. Darcy was right.
Susan's tease made both girls blush, and Fanny's face gained more colour than she could have possibly liked.
Julia shook her head and answered first. "It is too soon to tell, but...," she paused a long time, "I shall admit that I cannot help but hope that Lord Alverstoke might be the man I have been waiting for."
"Ha! You finally admit how much you like him!" cried Susan. Fanny's smile vanished when Susan turned her teasing gaze onto her. "And what of Lord Matthew? We have already established that he is everything that is amiable and worthy, but do you love him?"
No point in going for tact, eh, Susan?
Fanny took a while to gather her thoughts. "I... I do not attempt to deny that I think very highly of him, that I greatly esteem him. I like him."
Julia sighed loudly. "Esteem him? Like him? Use those insipid words again and we shall leave you this instant!"
Fanny laughed uneasily. "Very well. Forgive me. Believe my feelings to be more confused and stronger than I have declared, but beyond that you must not believe. He is the second son of a duke. I am a poor marine's daughter. There is no way that I could hope for such a union even if I did love him. I have a better chance of marrying Edmund than I have of marrying Lord Matthew."
Susan was already aware of her sister's feelings for Edmund; she'd been told the previous night.
Susan was about to continue when Julia noticed how the light was fading. "We had best go back." So they returned, recalling what Mrs. Price had promised to tell them.
Not again... Not again...
Maria Rushworth managed to lie down on a sofa in the sitting room before she could fall. She was certain that if she remained standing for any longer she would make a mess of the carpet, and that would only make her stomach feel worse than it already did.
(collective Dwiggie murmurs of sympathy)
Now I understand why when some women become pregnant they want to kill their husbands. Oh! if only there was something I could take to feel better!
Sorry, Maria. Stuff that works won't come for over a century and a half after your time.
But her pregnancy was not the biggest concern in her life.
(collective Dwiggie shout): WHAT??!! How can anything be worse than carrying Mr. Rushworth's baby?!
James had been going out daily early in the morning every day (excepting Sundays, when he stayed in till after church) and not returning till dinner. She could not figure out what was so important, or why he would not talk of what really happened. Whenever she asked, he gave an answer that always made her convinced that he was hiding something. Sadly, her pregnancy kept her from pressing him too hard; her body had developed a nasty habit of making her feel unable to do anything whenever she absolutely needed to know what was going on with him.
She had just been about to search through his desk for answers when her latest bout with nausea occurred.
This is insane. Okay, I am going to get up slowly the moment my stomach calms down, and move slowly to that desk. There must be some answers within it!
(several Dwiggies shouting): Go, Maria!
Maria's wait was long; she did not know how much time passed by the time she was able to start to push herself into a sitting position without feeling that her head might fall off. All movements were slow and deliberate, and she tried to use a path that allowed her to hang onto something to keep her balance.
Even so, it seemed to take forever to reach her destination. But she did. Sitting down, slowly, on James' chair, she started opening drawers.
Papers... pens... ink... No, nothing in this one. Try this one... Aha! Letters!
Maria carefully grabbed one pile and started going through it. Every letter was from someone she knew or knew of. Sighing, she put it away, and grabbed another. Again, nothing out of the ordinary. She tried again with a third pile. She was almost done with it when one letter caught her eye. The seal was of a family she had never heard of: White. And the hand was not only one she did not recognize, but was also feminine.
(collective gasp)
Another bout entered into awareness. Maria quickly drew in and out several deep breaths, managing to ward it off... for the moment. She carefully opened the letter, half-afraid of what it might contain.
January 17, 1809
Gracechurch StreetDear Mr. Rushworth,
Thank you for responding so promptly to my earlier message. You may come to my father's house at half past two tomorrow. I believe you will find what I have to give you very interesting. I shall very much look forward to your visit.
I am glad that you have not mentioned anything to your wife or your mother. What we are doing could be in jeopardy if either were to find out.
Yours, etc.
Miss Rachel White
(several Dwiggies scream)
Maria started shaking. Oh, lord ... Oh, lord ... He has a mistress! Tears started falling as the nausea returned, but she simply put away the pile, keeping the letter in her hand. I will confront him about this the first chance I get! I will not put up with this!
But any thoughts about what she would say fled as the bout made her fall to the floor, forcing her to call for servants to take her to bed...
* Prospero, The Tempest. Act 3, Scene 1, Line 32
Chapter 20 Posted on Saturday, 14 December 2002
Author's Note: Yes! I made it to twenty chapters! But I have no idea when this is going to be finished. I have to decide just where this is going. I'm dedicating this chapter to Charlotte at the DWG, for inspiring me to write by reminding us of how neglected the "non-Lizzy" Austen heroines are with her story, "Lesser Austen Heroines Unite!" A thousand thanks from myself and Fanny, Charlotte.
I do apologize for taking so long to post. This chapter took forever to choose a direction, and I had to decide how to develop the new characters and expand on the sub-plot I started last chapter. But, since neither would allow me to answer them the way I wished to, I shall have to wait for another chapter or two to tackle them. Also, I'm going out of town in about 3 hours from posting this. So, enjoy what little I have provided!
And a disclaimer: this chapter includes shameless swiping from the text!
What a tale my aunt had to tell.
Julia lay on her back in the narrow bed in Susan's room, staring straight at the ceiling, unable to sleep. Fanny must have blown out the candle over an hour earlier, and the quiet, even breathes coming from the other side of the room told Julia that her companions were asleep.
Perhaps that was for the best given the content of their conversation with Mrs. Price. William and Tom had joined them; the latter declared that "he must hear what his aunt had to accuse the dreadful uncle of the man who was a plague upon his cousin."
Collective shout: "Hear, hear!"
The basics of Fanny's situation were similar to those of her mother's more than twenty years before, but the details of the behavior of the "gentlemen" varied; Mr. Crawford was better at tricking others into believing him to be virtuous and was more careful in his behavior towards the ladies. But both men were fully capable of using deception and illusion to get what they wanted.
We call it, "using smoke and mirrors."
Well, His Vanity shall not get Fanny's hand! Julia could rest assured of that; Fanny was ready to die a prop to her aunt, and preferred dying a spinster than marrying where she didn't at least respect.
But marrying for love ... Ah, that was another issue.
The situation between Edmund and Miss Crawford, as far as Julia was aware, did not look good for her cousin; Fanny was unable to acknowledge where her heart lay, and unable to speak of any real bad conduct on Miss Crawford's part. Edmund would surely dismiss what happened in Fanny's room as simple eagerness to promote a brother's case and that the tales of Mr. Crawford's conquests were likely untrue, created by girls overeager to be liked by him; if he had proven incapable of listening to Fanny's objections to Mr. Crawford, objections of a nature too serious to be ignored,
All right, children, say it with me: Edmund Needs A Slap Upside The Head!
then he was certain to ignore the failings of the lady he was obviously intent on marrying. I had no idea my brother could be one of the greatest blockheads that ever lived.
Tabbi W. and Coleen V.: "Truer words were never spoken."
But even if Miss Crawford's preference for more fashionable professions, or the ability to not have to have one at all, did come permanently between her and Edmund, her brother would still be there pursuing Fanny; as long as Sir Thomas supported the match, the only hope was to keep Fanny as far away from Mr. Crawford as possible.
Maria could only do a little; Sotherton was near Mansfield, and the Crawfords were bound to be in Northamptonshire if Fanny was; the Wimpole Street townhouse was in an exclusive area, but the Crawfords both loved London. Besides, Sir Thomas would soon become aware that the Rushworths had cut Mr. Crawford from their circle and would demand a reason. James, Julia knew, did not wish for Maria's stupid actions to become common knowledge, and Maria herself desired to prevent anyone from acquiring the knowledge; hence when the answer was demanded, James might not be able to give a satisfactory answer, and Fanny would be brought straight back to Mansfield, to endure lord knew what.
Sighing softly, Julia rolled to face the draped window. A slight change in the view might help sort out her troubled thoughts.
(smirks) Confused and uncertain is more like it, Julia.
Tom's marriage was unlikely to help Fanny's cause, particularly if he married where Julia believed he wished to marry.
Well, it would help if it were not for Miss Crawford, if you know what I mean.
Would Sir Thomas permit such a union?
collective yell: "He is an idiot if he does not!"
Julia froze, pausing on the thought. Her father was certainly ambitious and wanted excellent connections in each of his children-in-law.
Oh, do not fret if such a term does not exist; the question does not signify to this story. I did not know what other term to use.
Maria had feared his wrath if she did not marry James, Miss Crawford's fortune certainly made him determined to promote a match between her and Edmund, and Mr. Crawford's fortune, combined with his aid to William, clearly encouraged him to do everything in his power to help the man get Fanny's hand in marriage. With Tom now reformed, their father was undoubtedly hoping for a grand match. Susan was in the same state as Fanny, though their educations were markedly different (though Julia believed a little tutoring would take care of that), but Tom was heir to a fortune more than twice that of Mr. Crawford's. Julia was not unaware of the differences in situation between Fanny and Mr. Crawford being about the same as the differences had been between Julia's own mother and father.
As if you actually COULD make such a comparison.
The worries those thoughts provoked seemed to threaten any chance of sleep for Julia. But then she remembered the blockhead that was her other brother. Yes, he was supporting his father in working for Fanny marrying Mr. Crawford, but Edmund wished for the match because he truly believed that Mr. Crawford would make Fanny happy and that Fanny would "make him everything," as Edmund had put it.
There's the key; Edmund's support will surely come once he sees Tom and Susan together, assuming a match does come to being, and that must surely influence Father. And my mother! Mama would be delighted with the match; Susan has tastes very similar to Fanny, and as near as I can tell she may have better insight into others moods and habits than Fanny does. If Fanny left, for any reason, Susan would still be there, and Mama would not have to adjust to a newcomer. Her feelings must have some influence on my father's decisions.
How much is a good question.
Lord, even the Crawfords would not object. Nor would the Grants, but I like them and they would like Susan, so no matter. It would make Edmund more eager to marry, delighting Miss Crawford, and Fanny's thoughts would turn more favorably towards marriage, or so Mr. Crawford would think.
He is correct in believing that a lady seeing her close family happily married would make her think well of the marriage state, but he does not realize that it does nothing to help the case of a suitor she does not like.
Aunt Norris would not approve. If her cousins had not been awake, Julia would not have restrained her snort.
I would not have, either.
But since when has she approved of any of my aunt Price's children advancing in life? Father will not be swayed by her. And would Father really be against the match? Tom may still be known by the actions he took before reforming; a girl of excellent character might be exactly what Father wants for Tom, regardless of fortune. Maybe he would not have to be persuaded into consenting; perhaps all will turn out well for Tom and Susan. If anything happens, she reminded herself.
For it is a truth universally acknowledged that a lady's imagination is very rapid; it jumps from admiration to love, from love to matrimony, in a moment. We may all be assured that Julia would already have wished her brother and cousin joy were she not prudent.
Her mind relaxed significantly, but there still remained the Crawford problem.
Or crisis, depending on how you view things.
The only solution Julia could think of was for her to marry far better than Maria did, and keep Fanny as a companion for a long while. Say that Fanny could use experience in dealing with society; Sir Thomas would certainly see how beneficial such experience would be for a girl as retiring as Fanny, and give his consent. The challenge would be keeping Mr. Crawford away long enough to find Fanny a wealthier, better man who wanted to marry her.
Had such an opportunity come for both of them?
Earlier in the day, Julia had thought herself in complete control of her behavior around the marquis, but more than once she had nearly said something that was not quite proper, and she was certain her face colored far more than a supposedly indifferent lady should in a man's presence. At least he was never looking at me when I did. But it was small consolation; such thoughts almost always are not effective at calming a mind when the issue is a matter of the heart.
He certainly seems to be a good man, but I was deceived before. I cannot afford to be deceived like that again; I certainly cannot deceive myself into false hopes for myself, and I cannot say what I hope for my brothers and cousins.
Not if you care what outsiders think about you.
And Lord Matthew... I cannot believe he is anything but what he appears to be; he has the look of honesty I see in Edmund when he talks. And so does Lord Alverstoke. Julia sighed. Even if they are both as good as they seem, Fanny is right; she is not likely to marry that high.
A faint commotion from another room told her that someone had woken from a bad dream. Given that she heard no other noises, it was probably one of the three older boys. Tom, I bet; I saw the look in his eyes as he watched Susan after Aunt Price's story. Seemed her brother was thinking of what Susan might think of him when she heard about his past, and wondering if she would not wish to have anything more to do with him.
You shall have to find out that for yourself, Tom. Julia adjusted the sheets for warmth as she finally began to drift off. And the longer you delay, the worse the possible confrontation will be.
Across town, candles gave a library a dim glow. Just enough for the two men there to finish their chess game. They had been at it for hours; neither could say how long they had been playing. It had been such between them for years; games late at night often relieved their stress from the day, and provided a relaxing feeling before going to bed to face a busy morning.
At last, the man facing the wall picked up the white queen and placed it a few squares away from the black king. He did not bother to announce checkmate.
Between friends, it is not important if you are friends.
"Your business will take how long, Alverstoke?"
Sebastian Whitehall, the Marquis of Alverstoke, sighed in acknowledgement of his friend's victory. "At least a week. Maybe two; I also owe my aunt in town a brief visit, and I am not looking forward to it."
Lord Matthew Alexander drew his lips into a thin line; the less said about the said aunt, the better. All Matthew was grateful for was that he was not related to the woman. "Come, now. There are so many better topics to talk about." His eyes fixed hard on his friend's face as he added, "such as our new acquaintances, the Price family and their relations. How did you find the company of Miss Bertram today, Bast?"
(Dwiggie eyebrows hit the ceiling) "What?!"
"Bast" raised his right hand, aiming his pointer at his friend's face. "I do not think you have much room to talk given that you spent almost the whole of our time there in the company of Miss Price, Hew."
(sounds of eyes popping out and spit-takes)
"I think your imagination is leading you to silly ideas based on what goes on in your heart, Sebastian Feste Whitehall!"
(more spit-takes)
"I might be able to say the same about you, Matthew Orsino Alexander!"
(even more spit-takes)
What can I say? I have had Twelfth Night on the brain for over a month.
The staring match continued for several long minutes before Bast finally blinked and sank into his chair.
Well, you have none of Hew's military training, Bast.
"Enough, Hew, enough. We have plenty of preparations to make for our journey to Town next week, and we both shall have to deal with people there that we would rather not see for some time. Am I not mistaken in assuming that your... brother is in London?"
Hew's face, which had been smiling after Bast conceded defeat for a second time that night, fell, turning into a tightly knit frown.
(Authoress pulls out her knitting bag to display the tools that made that frown)
Several deep breathes were necessary to keep his composure while he thought of a response. "Yes," said he at last, "Michael will be there. I can only imagine what stories I may hear this time. I only pray that none shall reach my sister's ears. You know how distressed she was over the last round."
Bast only nodded, not wishing to chance speaking.
"I grieve for Father; I cannot imagine what it is like to realize that despite everything you did one of your own turned out to be wild and unprincipled. And there is no chance of Michael reforming his ways; he has been set in them for far too long, and his ways cannot be easily forgiven."
"Unlike that of our new friend."
Ah, that comparison had to come up sooner or later.
Hew nodded. "The stories about Mr. Tom Bertram are not pleasant, I readily admit, but they do not tell the deeds of a man without principle; they tell the actions of a man who was rather selfish and who had never suffered adversity. Still, I was quite surprised to realize that the nephew of Mrs. Price is that very same man. I wonder if I shall ever learn what changed him."
Bast shrugged, slightly. "We shall have to become much better friends with him to learn that, but I assume you shall be joining me in returning, as soon as our business is done, to continue the acquaintance with Mr. Bertram and his family?"
"Certainly. And, if my father is willing, my sister shall accompany me."
"You wish to introduce her to the young ladies of the Price house?"
A nod. "You know how she longs for genuine friendship with other young ladies. The Miss Prices and Miss Bertram seem like good-natured, good-humored, kind, and active girls; the very sort my sister would benefit from knowing."
"Excellent! I wish I had a sister to introduce to them; it would make Portsmouth more enjoyable for ourselves and for the Prices."
For we cannot forget why Sir Thomas sent the Mansfield youths to here.
A small smile. "Indeed, Bast. I think we can delay our business in Town till Monday. We shall have to be in London by then. That gives us till Sunday evening to become better acquainted with our friends, and I intend to make a few more visits to the Prices, when I am not required at the port."
"Then I may have more opportunities to know the whole family better." Bast quickly drained his drink, ignoring the hard eyes staring at him. "Speaking of which, do I not recall you mentioning that your father is not unacquainted with Mr. Bertram's family?"
"Yes. I think Father went to school with him for years. There was some dispute involving a mutual friend, and they ceased to speak to each other. I hope they will not mind their children becoming friends."
"I should hope not; for there is nothing they can do to stop it!"
(Dwiggie cheers)
The large clock cut through their laughter, reminding them of the time. Hew glanced at it and sighed. "Well, I had better finish my letters to my father and sister, and then go off to bed." He emptied his glass of its contents, and his friend, taking the candle with him, led him out of the room.
I see I have wetted your imaginations regarding these men. Be patient; more details are coming. As soon as they come to me; I am having great difficulty making them come alive. Some of the current stories (as of early December) have made me want to make them as believable as possible.
Could Sir Thomas have seen all his daughter's, son's, and niece's feelings, when the third wrote to her aunt on the Friday morning after arriving, he would have despaired of his plan's success; the presence of Julia and Tom made the Price home more bearable to Fanny, her own family were supportive of her and her refusal of Mr. Crawford, and they had so many people visiting and to visit that Fanny spared almost no thoughts towards Mr. Crawford or his sister.
(loud Dwiggie cheering)
Quite so, my dears.
Despite William being needed on the "Thrush" daily, he always returned with an officer or two to join him for dinner. The extra income Tom and Julia brought allowed for food enough to entertain a guest or two every night.
Entertain in Portsmouth style: bread, meat, drink, and some butter.
William's captain, James Phillips, was fond enough of him to come to dine with the Prices twice before the "Thrush" had to depart on her mission, including that Friday. He even invited the Prices to join him and his family for dinner twice, also inviting the other officers of his ship. All the officers always accepted,
You would need a major excuse to get out of that without looking bad.
but the presence of the first lieutenant always put a limit on the gaiety
Translation for anti-MP2'ers: level of happiness and joy.
of the evening. It was evident to William's family that he was not far from the truth with the not very merciful remarks he had made about the first lieutenant.
Do not think unkindly of William for it; he was speculating (mostly) on the carriage ride to Portsmouth.
When he made the acquaintance of the two young lords, Captain Phillips extended the invitation to them, making the evenings even more delightful.
Except, of course, to the first lieutenant.
And Mrs. Price found another reason to be overjoyed at William's intimacy with his captain; Mrs. Phillips, residing in Portsmouth with her seven children, two under five years, was a distant cousin and a childhood companion. Their intimacy had been shattered when the future Mrs. Price had her dealings with the elder Crawford while the future Mrs. Phillips met her husband on a journey to London. The chance to resume their friendship could not be allowed to pass. So they saw each other almost daily after the Saturday dinner.
So hardly a day passed without important events and plenty of people to visit, or be visited by, for almost two weeks. A few of the "Thrush" officers had sisters visiting while they were in port, and those sisters quickly became known to the Prices and the Bertrams; those meetings marked the start of several promising friendships.
Promising in that the friends were considerate, and had no Mr. Crawford as a brother.
However, these sisters were wanted elsewhere, and had very little time to become acquainted with Fanny, Julia, and Susan; all did promise to call as soon as they were back in Portsmouth.
Furthermore, Fanny had the supreme joy of seeing William in uniform. Julia has declared that "she must draw a portrait of William in uniform before he left," so they planned to start that Friday morning. Julia had all she needed to create it, and placed what she knew she would need for that morning in easy reach; Fanny and Susan helped her set up in the parlour after an early breakfast. Fanny was in a rather placid state of being when William re-entered, followed not far behind by his mother, Tom, and Betsey. He, complete in his lieutenant's uniform, looking and moving all the taller, firmer, and more graceful for it, and with the happiest smile on his face, walked up directly to Fanny, who, rising from her seat and putting down her needlework, looked at him for a moment in speechless admiration, and then threw her arms round his neck to sob out her various emotions of pain and pleasure.
I think I need not say the source of either emotion; they should be evident enough by this time.
As a gentlewoman, Julia would not be expected to be impressed at the sight of William in uniform,
The whole "station in life" BS.
but as his cousin she was struck by how well the uniform became him, and what a commanding presence it gave him, the respect and fame he could expect in his career. She rambled on, making up for the silence of the others, noting with delight the striking parts of his dress, pondering how they should adjust the lighting so she would see as much as possible while drawing the outline, and a wish for enough time for him to see the finished portrait before sailing.
Tom had already given William his salutations, and was content to let the rest have their say; his thoughts ranged far and wide on the whole business; wondering how long it would take for William to gain a captaincy; then to become an admiral, surely one far better than the one who made his promotion possible.
Well, that would not be difficult, would it? I never did hear that the Admiral was a good sailor.
The family made a remarkable sight; a young man in a lieutenant's uniform, his mother and young sisters beaming with pride, a female cousin unable to stop praising him, a male cousin simply smiling with pleasure, and the beloved sister, seemingly unable to stop crying, clinging her brother. At length, Fanny pulled away, and Julia quieted. Anxious not to appear unhappy,
Despite her knowing that they knew she was very happy, despite the joy's origin.
she soon recovered herself; and wiping away her tears, was able to notice and admire all the striking parts that Julia had been waxing poetic on;
Hmm ... Julia as a poet. I wonder how that might have changed things...
listening with bounding spirits
They hardly needed reviving when she had such a supportive family around her, and with the knowledge that how William looked would be preserved forever.
to William's cheerful hopes of being on shore some part of every day before they sailed, and even of getting her, Tom, Julia, Susan, and the rest to Spithead to the sloop as it set sail.
And so Julia began the lengthy task of starting the portrait, after William selected a proper pose to be remembered by.
How you present yourself goes a long way towards how you are remembered. Though it does not always work to your advantage. Just look at Mr. Crawford.
William and Mrs. Price were both concerned that the portrait would take too long, but Tom set their minds at ease; being the younger daughter, and not considered as special as the older daughter, Julia heartily put herself into learning anything that she seemed talented at, and drawing and painting were two of her many talents. Indeed, Miss Lee, her governess, had observed that Julia had the most accurate eye for producing pictures very like the real thing, and that she was the quickest at getting accurate detail put to canvas.
Forgive the assumption; I do not know with certainty what they used during JA's time.
Furthermore, Julia could produce from memory with remarkable accuracy, so she could work on the portrait while William was on-duty. Despite all the tasks needed to keep the Price house running smoothly, and the frequent
- but welcome -
visits, the large portrait meant for Mr. and Mrs. Price was complete by Wednesday, along with a miniature for Fanny to keep; the latter Julia would create a copy of for Sir Thomas's miniatures of various relations. Her finished works were presented to the Prices with the Phillips' and Mr. Campbell in attendance. The applause they met with was received with pleasure and delight from their creator, and the praise of the details was enough to make Julia colour slightly; such levels of praise were not familiar enough to Julia's ears, and demonstrate what can happen to children who live in the shadow of another sibling.
Not that I would use this story as a platform for my beliefs...
(Authoress sighs as she senses smirks and disbelieving looks from the audience)
As I previously stated, Sir Thomas would not have been pleased at his plan's progress had he known of everything occurring in Portsmouth. How he would have reacted, I do not dare imagine. He certainly would have been exceedingly displeased at the contents of the letter Fanny wrote to Maria on the same day she wrote to Lady Bertram; the letter to the young Mrs. Rushworth was full of hope for a good stay in Portsmouth, and ideas for avoiding the Crawfords.
Well, Maria IS in London. You cannot expect it to be impossible for them to meet.
However, by the time the second letter to Lady Bertram was written, with Tom as the author, Sir Thomas might have gained hope, could he have seen all the feelings of his niece and children; many drawbacks were withheld from the letter, and others were scarcely mentioned or were understated in importance. Could he have seen half of what the youths felt before the end of their third week in Portsmouth, he would have thought Tom and Julia sure of returning to a sensible state,
(Dwiggies yell in anger)
Mr. Crawford sure of Fanny, and been delighted with his own sagacity.
Posted on Tuesday, 16 March 2004
William was gone. 'Thrush' got her orders, and he and Sam spent less and less time on shore. On the second Friday after the Mansfield youths arrived, the 'Thrush' set sail. Fanny and her family were able to be there to wave goodbye to the boys, Captain Phillips, and the ship. Fanny did not stop waving until the 'Thrush' was completely out of sight; when it was, she began crying at the loss of her dearest companion. Tom embraced her till her tears ceased flowing, and walked beside her as Julia and Susan held her hands as they walked home. Mr. and Mrs. Price spent the walk talking with Mrs. Phillips, whose children had accompanied her to Spithead.
I'm assuming that that's the place where 'Thrush' was docked.
The walk home was long, more than long enough for each of the youths to have plenty of time for their thoughts; no one possessed the spirits to converse. This suited Tom well; his mind was full of things to consider, and he was not yet ready to speak of his troubles.
This gave him a pensive look that many a young lady would admire. Indeed, the young ladies and girls they passed giggled over him, but he heard nothing. His cousins and sister heard, but dismissed it as simple light laughter over some prank.
Tom had confided in William earlier in the day; he had needed to talk to a man his age, and William was it. Yet Tom had hesitated over speaking to his cousin since the topic concerned Susan.
(scattered cheering): "Finally!"
He had fought his growing attraction to his young cousin ever since he got over the shock of their first meeting; he was not sure if it was even right for him to have such feelings toward her. What was drawing him more and more toward Susan had escaped him completely; it was William who had given him a simple explanation: she was totally unlike all the ladies he had encountered before; she held a youthful exuberance and outlook on life, her beauty came from within as much as on the outside, she had a healthy figure,
As opposed to the perhaps too-thin figures of some ladies, and too plump figures of others.
and he was getting to witness the growth of her natural intelligence through the teachings of Fanny and Julia. William further described Susan as like Fanny in all the important aspects, but more open, less fearful, and quicker to express anger.
Tom had been surprised at William's lack of concern over the situation; surely his past actions would make him undesirable as a potential husband for such a good girl. But William reminded Tom that "he had overcome his past habits, and was a better person now; indeed, he might even be a better father for it." In short, William thought Tom and Susan would do very well together, and assured Tom that he would have the blessings of the whole Price family if he chose to court Susan, and William suggested that Tom "ought to get to it as soon as may be!"
collective Dwiggie cheer: "Yay, William!"
As he watched William and Sam sail away on the 'Thrush,' Tom continued to ponder William's encouragement and whether he should pursue Susan.
collective Dwiggie thought: "Is there any question, you idiot?
Those thoughts continued as he walked with his family back to his aunt and uncle's house. A sudden laugh from Susan, emerging just as they reached the house, brought him out of his revere, and he looked up to see Fanny standing a little straighter and smiling (he more sensed she was smiling than could see it), and Julia with an extremely evil smile, as if she had just told some improper joke.
Don't think along the lines of "rears and vices," please. Julia has better taste than that.
But as neither his aunt nor his uncle admonished her - indeed, they were smiling at whatever had been said, and so was Mrs. Phillips - he assumed that it was a perfectly acceptable joke.
But hearing and seeing Susan laugh made it harder to come to a decision. Part of him said that he was thinking too much about the whole thing, but the sensible side that had been developing ever since he started his recovery kept him thinking for some time.
The next two weeks passed without incident, aside for a letter from Lady Bertram; she was in raptures over the prospect of a grandchild, and mentioned how she had to give Maria an account of her pregnacies, for it seemed that Maria's pregnancy was progressing like her mother's several had.
This was the first time Tom and Julia had any idea that they nearly had more siblings, but that tale is not fit to be told here.
The younger siblings continued learning from Fanny and their cousins, Tom assisted his uncle on errands, and that state of the Price household continued to improve. Between the money obtained from selling all the unwanted items, and the money that Sir Thomas sent, they were able to live comfortably enough.
Fortune seemed to be on their side; Mrs. Phillips, as it turned out, was owed a great many favors by important local people, including the headmaster of an excellent school. She asked him to let the young Price boys into the school, and, after he met with the boys and declared them "fit to be students at my school," they were. Their mother, older sisters, and cousins had to teach them what was the best manner of behavior at such a school, but the boys' educations were clearly flourishing at the school, and the deal Mrs. Phillips had arranged with the headmaster cost the Price family nothing (Mrs. Phillips paid a small sum to aid their education at the school), thereby saving them a significant sum, which Mr. and Mrs. Price were determined to set aside for the future.
(scattered applause)
Fanny heard nothing from Edmund during this time, much to her surprise; she was certain that he would have written to inquire why she had not written to Miss Crawford. It was too much to hope that the Crawfords had given up on her, or that Miss Crawford had given up on Edmund,
Perhaps, but it is currently worth hoping for!
but the lack of communication raised Fanny's hopes that, eventually, she at least would be left alone. If Edmund were also left alone, so much the better.
Julia hoped that the return to London would firmly awaken the old behaviors of the Crawfords, the old feelings; while she did not wish anyone hurt by them, that the Crawfords would be surrounded by people like them should make them happy for their "escape"
As she believed they would see it.
and would make them unlikely to leave it for some time. Julia's hope was that Miss Crawford would see how bad the matches would look to all her friends, and that Mr. Crawford would realize how ill-suited he was to the marriage state.
Julia: "For surely such considerations would have a strong influence on them!"
Tom carried the same hopes as his sister and cousin, and still some; Admiral Crawford was clearly not a man who thought well of marriage. Though he was a wicked man without question, Tom knew (not just through reputation, for he had dined at the man's house during his Careless Days)
As he now referred to his time before Fanny's influence improved him.
that the man was by no means stupid. If he sensed his nephew's plan, which was quite likely as Mr. Crawford resided in the same London house as the Admiral, then he would exert himself to influence his nephew away from such a plan, and might even go so far as to talk to Sir Thomas to inform him that the match was unsuitable. Perhaps even demand that Fanny never come near his nephew again. Such a meeting would present Sir Thomas with an evil in the match that might make him withdraw consent.
I'm not sure which is worse; to have a suitor pushed away by your family, or his. I suppose it depends on the families.
Whether such a drastic event would happen, Tom was not sure, but he did not put it past the admiral to try such a thing. Nor did he hope that it would not happen.
(collective snicker)
Let no one say that Tom now desired to cause his father pain; he merely recognized that it was necessary for Sir Thomas to see that Mr. Crawford was not a good match for Fanny; and that Mr. Crawford should not be allowed to be around Mansfield, unless there were no unattached women or girls residing at Mansfield, at least none of an age for a man of Crawford's years to even think about meddling with.
Really, it would be far better for him to never show his face at Mansfield ever again.
It would help if Miss Crawford never returned to Mansfield; her brother would have almost no reason to go there.
Unfortunately for Fanny, in late February, over a month into her visit, she received yet another letter from Miss Crawford. Time had dulled the habits of dealing with the woman, of dealing with all the unfair demands and entreaties, and had raised her hopes of finally being properly understood by both Crawfords. After Julia entered the parlour with the offending letter, Fanny asked her family's opinion. Susan, Julia, and Tom urged her to burn it straightaway, but Mrs. Price suggested that she read it first, see what Miss Crawford was about, and perhaps burn it afterward. After contemplating her options, Fanny bade Julia sat down to open the letter. Fanny did not wish to touch the letter; she suspected the brother had written in the letter, and desired to avoid any object that he had touched.
Somehow, he seemed to taint, in her mind, anything that came into contact with him.
“At least we might receive some entertainment from the letter; you did say that she can be entertaining when she chooses,” said Mrs. Price. Julia, not pleased to be reading something that she was convinced could only bring displeasure,
Oh, indeed, Julia? Are we to suppose that you have not even a little curiosity yourself about the letter? Surely you jest!
broke the seal and read thus:
February 20, 1809
Fraiser HouseMy dear Fanny,
Again, I beg your forgiveness for using such familiarity, but I cannot think of calling you by any other name; it is quite impossible for someone who thinks so fondly of you. Your silence I must attribute to vexation with me and my brother (though, I pray that it is not severe), but I dare to hope that the distance between now and when we spoke last may have softened your feelings, and your cousins' as well, and leave you willing to write. When I received no replies to my fourth letter to you, I decided, much to my brother's displeasure, to wait a while to write again, certain that you wished for some quiet. Upon reflection, I could blame you not. Henry, however, could not stand it and when your cousin came to town briefly two weeks ago, brought me along to visit and asked if Mr. Bertram could write me the direction. Your cousin, as I heard, was quite surprised to hear that you had not written at all, but I convinced him that the silence between us was perhaps for the best. I chose to wait till I felt that your feelings had softened enough to resume the correspondence. I hope that my judgment was correct, my dear friend.
And now that I have begun, my letter will not be worth your reading, for there will be no little offering of love at the end, no three or four lines passionnees from the most devoted H. C. in the world, for Henry is in Norfolk; business called him to Everingham ten days ago, as it did over a month ago, when perhaps he only pretended the call, for the sake of being traveling at the same time that you were. But there he is, and by the bye, his absences may sufficiently account for the additional remissness of his sister's in writing, for there has been no 'Well, Mary, when do you write Fanny? Is it not time for you to write to Fanny?' to spur me on. But I have been disappointing him; my insistence on waiting for the sake of your feelings saddened him.
At last, after various attempts at meeting, I have seen your cousin, 'dear Mrs. Rushworth;' I found her at home yesterday and we were very glad to see each other. We seemed very glad to see each other, and I do really think we were a little. I must note that she seemed a bit unwell, yet she assured me that it was nothing serious. We had a vast deal to say. I was not certain how she would react to my mentioning your name; I had never thought her wanting in self-possession, but I wondered how disappointment would affect her behavior. But nothing in her looks changed, no recovery of complexion was necessary from the moment that I spoke of 'Fanny,' and spoke of her as a sister should. Indeed, mentioning you only improved her looks, and she spoke of you to the assembled group with even more affection than I did, and furthermore intimated (through looks rather than words) that I could never hope to reach the quality and depth of intimacy that she enjoys with you. Furthermore, she spoke of your qualities, insisting that you have the grace and manners of a duchess, and thatonly the highest sort of man is worthy of you. I was greatly offended by her first unspoken meaning, and even more offended by the slight of my brother, but only my respect for you and for your love of your cousins kept me silent. Well, we shall see how she behaves after an event that I dearly wish for, one that she seems to want to prevent at any cost, and shall cause hurt feelings, but that is unavoidable. In any case, Mrs. Rushworth's day of good looks will come; her first party is on the 28th. Then she will be in beauty, for she will open one of the best houses in Wimpole Street. I was in it two years ago, when it was Lady Lascelles's, and prefer it to almost any I know in London, and certainly she will then feel, to use a vulgar phrase, that she has got her pennyworth for her penny. Henry could not have afforded her such a house. I hope she will recollect it and be satisfied as well as she may, with moving the queen of the palace, though the king may appear best in the background; and as I have no desire to tease her, I shall never force any reference to the events of last year again. She will grow sober by degrees.
Baron Wildenheim is in town. I saw him at a party, where he asked after your cousin Julia. I am sure that were she in London, he would pay her the attentions that he seemed ready to pay her before she became so close to you, though I doubt he would receive any serious encouragement. She certainly ought to do better. A poor honourable is no catch, and I cannot imagine any liking in any case, for, take away his rants, and the poor baron is nothing. What a difference a vowel makes! If his rents were but equal to his rants! Ah, then he would be a catch for Julia to consider!
Your cousin Edmund had to return to Mansfield shortly after Henry and I saw him last. And now he moves slowly back; perchance by parish duties. There may be some old woman at Thornton Lacey to be converted. I am unwilling to fancy myself neglected for a young one. Ah! He certainly takes great care in his duties. I imagine that such a man would take equal care in other aspects of his life.
Adieu! My dear sweet Fanny, this is a long letter from London: write me a pretty one to gladden Henry's eyes, when he comes back, and send me an account of all the dashing young captains whom you distain for his sake.
Yours ever,
Mary
There is very little I can add without digressing from the story too much. I shall leave it to yourselves, readers, to imagine the thoughts, feelings, instincts, and urges of all in the parlour. And the “Mary-bashing” must be left to another occasion.
There was a long moment of silence, in which the room's occupants wondered at the truth of the contents of the letter. At last, Julia stood. “We should burn this at once,” she declared.
“Wait.” No one expected Mrs. Price to say such. Surely, she would have every reason to encourage Fanny to ignore the Crawfords. All the young people asked as one why they should not destroy the letter. “Let us wait a while, and hear from Maria first; a letter is due from her any day now. Miss Crawford will likely grow impatient and write again; then Fanny could write her a letter designed to confuse both of the Crawfords. If she does, then having this – and the other letter – near may help. But,” she added as she stood and walked to Julia, taking the letter, “if we decide that it is best to not write at all, that this letter – and any other that comes – shall be burned. The important thing is that Fanny will not have to defend herself, for she can honestly say that no letter from Miss Crawford ever reached her hands.” With that, she placed the letter under some papers in her drawer of the family desk.
(collective Dwiggie exclamation): “Oh! how clever! Go, Mrs. Price!”
The plan seemed strange to the young people at first, but upon further reflection it held great benefits; it delayed having to deal with either Crawford for some time, they had things to possibly use to their advantage in future dealings with Miss Crawford, and provide a source of inspiration for when they chose to toy with the workings of minds of both the brother and sister. Tom, Julia, and Susan certainly thought the plan excellent; it suited their ideas of mischief. Even Fanny had no objections, for the idea of pretending to be one thing for the sake of confusing her adversaries
As she had often called the Crawfords.
held great appeal, and promoted the hope that she might be left alone. Furthermore, it allowed her to appear innocent if her uncle ever asked her about it.
(Cheering)
The Lascelles House, as the great house now owned by Mr. Rushworth was called, was almost completely silent. If anyone passing by thought that they heard something, they dismissed it as servants performing their cleaning tasks. They would have been shocked to learn that the faint sounds of things being moved were not made by servants, but by the mistress of the house.
Voice of a London Matron: “What? A lady working? In her own house? Insupportable! Has she any decency?
Since her shocking discovery nearly a month before, Maria was determined to find evidence to prove or disprove her conclusions. James' behavior still seemed strange, and he was now away. On business, he claimed. What business he would not tell her, and the servants seemed ignorant of the details. Maria at first wondered if maybe they were being loyal, but her kindness to them, combined with discreet inquiries by her maidservant (who had been her maidservant at Mansfield), ultimately led to dismissing that idea; the servants were open with her, and never gave her even a moment's alarm, or made her feel like an outsider.
The exception was the servant who was closest to Mr. Rushworth: his valet, Jones. He knew his master's secret, and allowed no hint of it to escape from any part of his demeanor or voice. Fortunately, Jones often went with Mr. Rushworth when he went away on long journeys. And Mr. Rushworth had gone away on “business,” as he called it, in the north of England, and Jones was with him. Therefore, Maria was at liberty to search her husband's things.
Between feelings of betrayal over his assumed infidelity, guilt because she wondered if she had earned such treatment, hope that there was an innocent and acceptable explanation for everything, and pride driving her to keep “her man,” she was desperate to find something to tell her what the truth was.
Having completely gone through the contents of the drawers in his study (his “other room,” as he called it), Maria was now in front of the door to his bedchamber. Rarely, her aunt Norris had instructed her, was a lady to enter her husband's chamber; martial “visits” often took place in the lady's bedchamber.
Maria tensed at the memory of the “talk” between herself, her mother, and her aunt. It was, her aunt claimed, for her benefit, to ensure felicity and a prosperous marriage, and all young ladies needed to have such instruction from their female elders as the topics were unknown to proper ladies until on the verge of their marriage.
Instead of being helpful, as both matrons had intended, the experience left Maria worried, and contemplating whether it would be best for Fanny and Julia to die old maids. Lady Bertram said very little, except for “follow your husband's lead; he will likely know what to do,” and “the martial duty is an infrequent task, and usually does not take very long.” Knowing how little Mr. Rushworth knew of matters Maria had come to expect young men to know, this was not encouraging. But her mother had one more thing to tell: “uncomfortable it will be at first, but that shall pass eventually; and if you remain fond of each other, then it is less of a duty.”
Well, well, well... Here's an unexpected admission! Lady Bertram speaking so openly about her love for Sir Thomas, and suggesting that there could be something wonderful awaiting her daughter!
These words, had they been all that was said, would have been enough to lift Maria's spirits, and give her hope for a better future. Even if James did not look like the romantic hero she had daydreamed about as a girl, he would surely look to her comfort in this matter, and perhaps could learn enough to make her mother's words come true. But she was not to leave with such comforting hopes; Mrs. Norris had her own views on what the marriage bed was like, and Maria had to strengthen herself against what she knew would be a terrible lesson. To call it a frightening experience did not describe the half of it. Mrs. Norris endeavored to impress upon her that “it would always be a duty, and no amount of pleasure would change that. Indeed, for a wife to enjoy the experience was a sin!
We must remember that Auntie Dearest was married to a clergyman who, since he was Sir Thomas' good friend, very likely held strict views about that part of life.
A wife must be obedient to her husband in all things, and run the house as he wishes. She must treat all of his family as coming before her, and, above all, she must never complain about any of them! Such a wife is considered ideal by all men, regardless of birth.”
Yeah, I bet you were a paragon of this particular sort...
Maria's horror had been, and was still, mixed with doubt that her aunt even followed her own advice; too many occasions of contrary behavior came to mind, and were quickly dismissed from thought so to avoid a headache. A deep breath, and she entered her husband's room. This hunt was even more frustrating than the searches of the other rooms; many of the drawers were locked, and it seemed that the keys were in hiding, or else Jones had brought them with him and his master. Still, she did not quit the room for hours; once every place she could reach had been thoroughly searched, she had to admit defeat.
Well, that means that every room in this house has been searched. The proof must be in one of those locked drawers, but I do not think I can pick the locks and have them repaired quickly enough; I do not know for certain when James will return, but I know it will be by early Tuesday afternoon.
Which left her with only the occasionally entertaining parties of London to keep her occupied, including hers on the 28th, and with the strong possibility of seeing either Crawford, they seemed tedious. Though the servants had learned of Mr. Crawford's absence, that did not solve the problem of his sister.
I know the song goes, “How Do You Solve a Problem Like Maria?” but my mind is singing “How Do You Solve a Problem Like Mary?” and I can't get it to stop. Argh!
Maria was grateful that Edmund had returned so promptly to Mansfield, and had dared to write him a letter encouraging him to do as much good in the country as possible; it would endear him to those in his parish. His short response seemed to indicate no awareness of her ulterior motive, but it seemed that he would return to London within a few weeks. So now he was due back at any moment, and, despite her frustrations with him, she invited him to stay with her; the house was too quiet for her taste, and, after all, he was her brother. A chance for them to mend their fences would be good for them all, and it might provide her with someone to talk to about her situation; she had not been able to write to Portsmouth about James's activities,
She was too engrossed in her search.
and could not write to Mansfield about them,
After hearing from Julia and Fanny about Sir Thomas's reaction to the true story about Mr. Crawford, she doubted she would get the sort of help that she needed.
so she was in desperate need of someone trusted to give advice in person. Edmund, for all his faults, could be trusted with her secret and would help her in any way possible. Or so she hoped.
After all, part of her worries concerned the very people he wanted Fanny more connected to. Not to mention himself.
At last, unable to think of anything else to search, she decided that writing a letter to Portsmouth would ease her burden. She contemplated what she would write as she walked to her desk and pulled out paper and pen. At last, deciding to unburden her heart, she wrote the following:
February 27, 1809
Lascelles HousesMy Dearest Fanny, Julia, and Tom,
I apologize for the length of my delay, but I simply could not make myself calm enough to write until now. You will understand my delay once I explain all. To start, my health has taken some time to recover. I understand that Mother has written to you, expressing her joy. No doubt she mentioned my ailments. I have been assured by my Mother and by several of the married servants that the memory of the discomfort will fade soon enough. I have a new respect for my Mother; how she, of all ladies, endured over a month of stomach sickness, bouts of dizziness, and overwhelming tiredness is a marvel to me. Yet the symptoms have gotten better over the past few days.
Sadly, I haven't had the chance to properly rest, as is recommended when you are expecting. The reason is that I've been concerned about James's behavior over the past month. He goes away frequently, without telling me much about where he is going or what his business is. He was so open before, so this is alarming in of itself. His valet seems a conspirator in his master's secret efforts, but no other servant has any idea what is happening. A few weeks ago, while he was away – again! – I went searching through his front desk, and found a letter from a female whom I do not know. The contents were about a meeting, and the need to keep his wife from discovering what was happening.
Forgive my sloppy hand, for I hardly know what to write. I have held this in too long, and I am in desperate need of someone I can trust to know what I am dealing with. I have searched my house top and bottom, and have found no other letters from this, this woman. I am torn between feelings of betrayal and of hope, hope that there is some innocent explanation for all this madness. I am afraid to even speak of my troubles before the servants; though I think them loyal to myself, I am well aware of how much a maidservant enjoys gossip, so I dare not permit any word of my fears to become common knowledge. And Heaven knows what Mrs. Rushworth would have to say; she will, without question, defend her son and attack me.
I feel trapped. Now I think I should have remained single; then I would not feel so terrible about myself, I would not be in such a humiliating situation, and I would likely be with you in Portsmouth, meeting the rest of my family. I am desperate for aid. And yet aid may be coming; Edmund is to stay here for this particular London stay. As much trouble as it has been to get him to hear our side of the story, I shall attempt it again, and perhaps even confide my troubles; I believe that he would do anything to help me, even if he just thinks that he is calming the nerves of his pregnant sister. I pray, Fanny, that I can convince him to cease his support for His Vanity, and I pray that such an event might lead to the end of our dealings with any person of that family.
Ooh! I am feeling sick again. My symptoms get worse when I get emotional, and I need to be in control of myself when Edmund arrives. And James, since he will be here no later than early afternoon on the morrow. So I need to end this on a different note.
Speaking of the Crawfords, I saw The Sister not too long ago. It was on the 19th, here at Lascelles. Yes, she dared to call on me. I could not be seen to refuse her entrance, for I had other guests at the time. (Though I shall try to avoid receiving her again if I can.) She was in good manners and spirits, and was in the company of her old friend Mrs. Fraiser. I could not care for Mrs. Fraiser; she embodies too many of the “qualities” shown by London “ladies” for me to like her. Yet her mercenary tendencies may reawaken Miss Crawford's, and thus separate her and my brother. So I cannot completely dislike her. Conversation was tolerable, nothing of consequence till she mentioned Fanny, in a rather sister-like manner. I suspected she wanted to see how I would react, thinking that perhaps I still harbor some feelings for her brother. Well, I daresay I disappointed her, for I proceeded to speak of you, Fanny, with even greater affection, dwelling on your many merits, your talents, and your person. Yes, Fanny, I know you do not like to be complemented on your appearance, but you must own that you are very beautiful. I went so far as to claim that you seem fit to be a duchess, and flatly stated the qualities I think a man must have to be worthy of you. Miss Crawford certainly understood that I meant that her brother has none of those qualities, and I suspect that the rest (even Mrs. Fraiser) grasped it as well. Miss Crawford looked on the verge of saying something very improper, but restrained herself, and she and Mrs. Fraiser left soon after. The others I am beginning to consider friends, so I told them bits of last summer and of his inconsiderate behavior towards Fanny. Oh, I did not mention our names, Julia, but enough details to show his true character. And it seems that many of them had heard some story of Mr. Crawford, though nothing like had happened to them; they only heard it through others. I may have some allies in discrediting him in Father's eyes, if I can find someone who was wronged and whose word Father could not doubt.
Lord! I hear a carriage. It must be Edmund, and I need time to see if I can tell him about my troubles. So, I wish you all the best of everything. Have plenty of fun, for my sake. I have to host a party here tomorrow night, which I do not look forward to. However, I will meet Miss Fraiser, and if she is what I have heard she is, I will make sure to give my blessing to a match between her and His Vanity. With Miss Crawford nearby. It will be difficult to seem innocent in such a scheme, but I will try much for you, Fanny. It seems the only thing I have any control over at present. I will write again soon after the party. Please write me back promptly; I desperately need your counsels. Decide amongst yourselves as to whether my aunt and uncle should hear of this.
Your sister,
Maria Rushworth
Maria quickly sealed the letter and wrote the direction, and was barely done when a servant directed someone into the room. She got up, expecting her brother, and saw her husband's smiling face.
Which meant a faltering expression on her face, which surely could not be to her advantage.
“James! I have been waiting for your presence for several days. What took you so long?” The smile changed for a moment, so quickly that a less observant person would have missed it, only increasing Maria's worries. It seemed he had not expected to see her so soon.
Ouch... Not a good sign...
“Oh, a... prospect took longer than I wanted to... evaluate. The man wanted more than I was ready to pay for, and then I determined, with help from Jones, that he had... lied about his wares. So it was all a wild goose chase.”
Curiouser and curiouser... as Alice would say.
The pauses were characteristic of him, but the type of answer was his stock answer lately. She suspected that he was telling a small bit of the truth, but leaving a great deal out. She was about to press for details, which were likely not forthcoming, when he asked a series of questions about the party. She answered them promptly, assuring him that everything was ready. Then she heard a familiar female voice, and it took all her strength to remain composed. “Your mother has come? I had no word.”
(collective Dwiggie shudder at thought of unexpected visit from in-laws)
His smile grew greater, and his words were in his usual, slightly rushed, manner. “Well, she wanted to see us open the house, and see some old friends. So I picked her up on my way back. She will be with us for a fortnight at least.”
Okay, he is a momma's boy, but that fails to prove anything. Except perhaps that he still relies heavily on his mother when it is time to rely on his wife.
“Oh.” And at that moment, she could see her father's carriage pull up, with Edmund inside. Delightful, she thought in despair. Now it was impossible to confide in anyone, except through letter. And even that must now be done in some secrecy.
CHAPTER 21
Posted on Friday, 26 May 2006
William was gone. 'Thrush' got her orders, and he and Sam spent less and less time on shore. On the second Friday after the Mansfield youths arrived, the 'Thrush' set sail. Fanny and her family were able to be there to wave goodbye to the boys, Captain Phillips, and the ship. Fanny did not stop waving until the 'Thrush' was completely out of sight; when it was, she began crying at the loss of her dearest companion. Tom embraced her till her tears ceased flowing, and walked beside her as Julia and Susan held her hands as they walked home. Mr. and Mrs. Price spent the walk talking with Mrs. Phillips, whose children had accompanied her to Spithead.
I'm assuming that that's the place where 'Thrush' was docked.
The walk home was long, more than long enough for each of the youths to have plenty of time for their thoughts; no one possessed the spirits to converse. This suited Tom well; his mind was full of things to consider, and he was not yet ready to speak of his troubles.
This gave him a pensive look that many a young lady would admire. Indeed, the young ladies and girls they passed giggled over him, but he heard nothing. His cousins and sister heard, but dismissed it as simple light laughter over some prank.
Tom had confided in William earlier in the day; he had needed to talk to a man his age, and William was it. Yet Tom had hesitated over speaking to his cousin since the topic concerned Susan.
(scattered cheering): "Finally!"
He had fought his growing attraction to his young cousin ever since he got over the shock of their first meeting; he was not sure if it was even right for him to have such feelings toward her. What was drawing him more and more toward Susan had escaped him completely; yet it was William himself who had given him a simple explanation: she was totally unlike all the ladies he had encountered before; she held a youthful exuberance and outlook on life, her beauty came from within as much as on the outside, she had a healthy figure,
As opposed to the perhaps too-thin figures of some ladies, and too plump figures of others.
and he was getting to witness the growth of her natural intelligence through the teachings of Fanny and Julia. William further described Susan as like Fanny in all the important aspects, but more open, less fearful, and quicker to express anger.
Tom had been surprised at William's lack of concern over the situation; surely his past actions would make him undesirable as a potential husband for such a good girl. But William reminded Tom that "he had overcome his past habits, and was a better person now; indeed, he might even be a better father for it." In short, William thought Tom and Susan would do very well together, and assured Tom that he would have the blessings of the whole Price family if he chose to court Susan, and William suggested that Tom "ought to get to it as soon as may be! After all, would not such a match help Fanny avoid her suitor?"
collective Dwiggie cheer: "Yay, William!"
As he watched William and Sam sail away on the 'Thrush,' Tom continued to ponder William's encouragement and whether he should pursue Susan.
collective Dwiggie thought: "Is there any question, you idiot?
Those thoughts continued as he walked with his family back to his aunt and uncle's house. A sudden laugh from Susan, emerging just as they reached the house, brought him out of his revere, and he looked up to see Fanny standing a little straighter and smiling (he more sensed she was smiling than could see it), and Julia with an extremely evil smile, as if she had just told some improper joke.
Don't think along the lines of "rears and vices," please. Julia has better taste than that.
But as neither his aunt nor his uncle admonished her - indeed, they were smiling at whatever had been said, and so was Mrs. Phillips - he assumed that it was a perfectly acceptable joke.
But hearing and seeing Susan laugh made it harder to come to a decision. Part of him said that he was thinking too much about the whole thing, but the sensible side that had been developing ever since he started his recovery kept him thinking for some time.
The next two weeks passed without incident, aside for a letter from Lady Bertram; she was in raptures over the prospect of a grandchild, and mentioned how she had to give Maria an account of her pregnancies, for it seemed that Maria's pregnancy was progressing like her mother's several had.
This was the first time Tom and Julia had any idea that they nearly had more siblings, but that tale is not fit to be told here.
The younger siblings continued learning from Fanny and their cousins, Tom assisted his uncle on errands, and that state of the Price household continued to improve. Between the money obtained from selling all the unwanted items, and the money that Sir Thomas sent, they were able to live comfortably enough.
Fortune seemed to be on their side; Mrs. Phillips, as it turned out, was owed a great many favors by important local people, including the headmaster of an excellent school. She asked him to let the young Price boys into the school, and, after he met with the boys and declared them "fit to be students at my school," they were. Their mother, older sisters, and cousins had to teach them what was the best manner of behavior at such a school, but the boys' educations were clearly flourishing at the school, and the deal Mrs. Phillips had arranged with the headmaster cost the Price family nothing (Mrs. Phillips paid a small sum to aid their education at the school), thereby saving them a significant sum, which Mr. and Mrs. Price were determined to set aside for the future.
(scattered applause)
Fanny heard nothing from Edmund during this time, much to her surprise; she was certain that he would have written to inquire why she had not written to Miss Crawford. It was too much to hope that the Crawfords had given up on her, or that Miss Crawford had given up on Edmund,
Perhaps, but it is currently worth hoping for!
but the lack of communication raised Fanny's hopes that, eventually, she at least would be left alone. If Edmund were also left alone, so much the better.
Julia hoped that the return to London would firmly awaken the old behaviors of the Crawfords, the old feelings; while she did not wish anyone hurt by them, that the Crawfords would be surrounded by people like them should make them happy for their "escape"
As she believed they would see it.
and would make them unlikely to leave it for some time. Julia's hope was that Miss Crawford would see how bad the matches would look to all her friends, and that Mr. Crawford would realize how ill-suited he was to the marriage state.
Julia: "For surely such considerations would have a strong influence on them!"
Tom carried the same hopes as his sister and cousin, and still some; Admiral Crawford was clearly not a man who thought well of marriage. Though he was a wicked man without question, Tom knew (not just through reputation, for he had dined at the man's house during his Careless Days)
As he now referred to his time before Fanny's influence improved him.
that the man was by no means stupid. If he sensed his nephew's plan, which was quite likely as Mr. Crawford resided in the same London house as the Admiral, then he would exert himself to influence his nephew away from such a plan, and might even go so far as to talk to Sir Thomas to inform him that the match was unsuitable. Perhaps even demand that Fanny never come near his nephew again. Such a meeting would present Sir Thomas with an evil in the match that might make him withdraw consent.
I'm not sure which is worse; to have a suitor pushed away by your family, or his. I suppose it depends on the families.
Whether such a drastic event would happen, Tom was not sure, but he did not put it past the admiral to try such a thing. Nor did he hope that it would not happen.
(collective snicker)
Let no one say that Tom now desired to cause his father pain; he merely recognized that it was necessary for Sir Thomas to see that Mr. Crawford was not a good match for Fanny; and that Mr. Crawford should not be allowed to be around Mansfield, unless there were no unattached women or girls residing at Mansfield, at least none of an age for a man of Crawford's years to even think about meddling with.
Really, it would be far better for him to never show his face at Mansfield ever again.
It would help if Miss Crawford never returned to Mansfield; her brother would have almost no reason to go there.
Unfortunately for Fanny, in late February, over a month into her visit, she received yet another letter from Miss Crawford. Time had dulled the habits of dealing with the woman, of dealing with all the unfair demands and entreaties, and had raised her hopes of finally being properly understood by both Crawfords. After Julia entered the parlour with the offending letter, Fanny asked her family's opinion. Susan, Julia, and Tom urged her to burn it straightaway, but Mrs. Price suggested that she read it first, see what Miss Crawford was about, and perhaps burn it afterward. After contemplating her options, Fanny bade Julia sat down to open the letter. Fanny did not wish to touch the letter; she suspected the brother had written in the letter, and desired to avoid any object that he had touched.
Somehow, he seemed to taint, in her mind, anything that came into contact with him.
“At least we might receive some entertainment from the letter; you did say that she can be entertaining when she chooses,” said Mrs. Price. Julia, not pleased to be reading something that she was convinced could only bring displeasure,
Oh, indeed, Julia? Are we to suppose that you have not even a little curiosity yourself about the letter? Surely you jest!
broke the seal and read thus:
February 20, 1809
Fraiser HouseMy dear Fanny,
Again, I beg your forgiveness for using such familiarity, but I cannot think of calling you by any other name; it is quite impossible for someone who thinks so fondly of you. Your silence I must attribute to vexation with me and my brother (though, I pray that it is not severe), but I dare to hope that the distance between now and when we spoke last may have softened your feelings, and your cousins' as well, and leave you willing to write. When I received no replies to my fourth letter to you, I decided, much to my brother's displeasure, to wait a while to write again, certain that you wished for some quiet. Upon reflection, I could blame you not. Henry, however, could not stand it and when your cousin came to town briefly two weeks ago, brought me along to visit and asked if Mr. Bertram could write me the direction. Your cousin, as I heard, was quite surprised to hear that you had not written at all, but I convinced him that the silence between us was perhaps for the best. I chose to wait till I felt that your feelings had softened enough to resume the correspondence. I hope that my judgment was correct, my dear friend.
And now that I have begun, my letter will not be worth your reading, for there will be no little offering of love at the end, no three or four lines passionnees from the most devoted H. C. in the world, for Henry is in Norfolk; business called him to Everingham ten days ago, and I believe it would have over a month ago for the sake of being traveling at the same time that you were, if he had known that was what you were doing. But there he is, and by the bye, his absences may sufficiently account for the additional remissness of his sister's in writing, for there has been no 'Well, Mary, when do you write Fanny? Is it not time for you to write to Fanny?' to spur me on. But I have been disappointing him; my insistence on waiting for the sake of your feelings saddened him.
At last, after various attempts at meeting, I have seen your cousin, 'dear Mrs. Rushworth;' I found her at home yesterday and we were very glad to see each other. We seemed very glad to see each other, and I do really think we were a little. I must note that she seemed a bit unwell, yet she assured me that it was nothing serious. We had a vast deal to say. I was not certain how she would react to my mentioning your name; I had never thought her wanting in self-possession, but I wondered how disappointment would affect her behavior. But nothing in her looks changed, no recovery of complexion was necessary from the moment that I spoke of 'Fanny,' and spoke of her as a sister should. Indeed, I surprised that mentioning you only improved her looks, and she spoke of you to the assembled group with even more affection and animation than I did, and furthermore intimated (through looks rather than words) that I could never hope to reach the quality and depth of intimacy that she enjoys with you. Furthermore, she spoke of your qualities, insisting that you have the grace and manners of a duchess, and thatonly the highest sort of man is worthy of you. I was greatly offended by her first unspoken meaning, and even more offended by the slight of my brother, but only my respect for you and for your love of your cousins kept me silent. Well, we shall see how she behaves after an event that I dearly wish for, one that she seems to want to prevent at any cost, and shall cause hurt feelings, but that is unavoidable. In any case, Mrs. Rushworth's day of good looks will come; her first party is on the 28th. Then she will be in beauty, for she will open one of the best houses in Wimpole Street. I was in it two years ago, when it was Lady Lascelles's, and prefer it to almost any I know in London, and certainly she will then feel, to use a vulgar phrase, that she has got her pennyworth for her penny. Henry could not have afforded her such a house. I hope she will recollect it and be satisfied as well as she may, with being the queen of the palace, though the king may appear best in the background; and as I have no desire to tease her, I shall never force any reference to the events of last year again. She will grow sober by degrees.
Baron Wildenheim is in town. I saw him at a party, where he asked after your cousin Julia. I am sure that were she in London, he would pay her the attentions that he seemed ready to pay her before she became so close to you, though I doubt he would receive any serious encouragement. She certainly ought to do better. A poor honourable is no catch, and I cannot imagine any liking in any case, for, take away his rants, and the poor baron is nothing. What a difference a vowel makes! If his rents were but equal to his rants! Ah, then he would be a catch for Julia to consider!
Your cousin Edmund had to return to Mansfield shortly after Henry and I saw him last. And now he moves slowly back; perchance by parish duties. There may be some old woman at Thornton Lacey to be converted. I am unwilling to fancy myself neglected for a young one. Ah! He certainly takes great care in his duties. I imagine that such a man would take equal care in other aspects of his life.
Adieu! My dear sweet Fanny, this is a long letter from London: write me a pretty one to gladden Henry's eyes, when he comes back, and send me an account of all the dashing young captains whom you disdain for his sake.
Yours ever,
Mary
There is very little I can add without digressing from the story too much. I shall leave it to yourselves, readers, to imagine the thoughts, feelings, instincts, and urges of all in the parlour. And the “Mary-bashing” must be left to another occasion.
There was a long moment of silence, in which the room's occupants wondered at the truth of the contents of the letter. At last, Julia stood. “We should burn this at once,” she declared.
“Wait.” No one expected Mrs. Price to say such. Surely, she would have every reason to encourage Fanny to ignore the Crawfords. All the young people asked as one why they should not destroy the letter. “Let us wait a while, and hear from Maria first; a letter is due from her any day now. Miss Crawford will likely grow impatient and write again; then Fanny could write her a letter designed to confuse both of the Crawfords. If she does, then having this – and the other letter – near may help. But,” she added as she stood and walked to Julia, taking the letter, “if we decide that it is best to not write at all, that this letter – and any other that comes – shall be burned. The important thing is that Fanny will not have to defend herself, for she can honestly say that no letter from Miss Crawford ever reached her hands.” With that, she placed the letter under some papers in her drawer of the family desk.
(collective Dwiggie exclamation): “Oh! how clever! Go, Mrs. Price!”
The plan seemed strange to the young people at first, but upon further reflection it held great benefits; it delayed having to deal with either Crawford for some time, they had things to possibly use to their advantage in future dealings with Miss Crawford, and provide a source of inspiration for when – or if – they chose to toy with the workings of minds of both the brother and sister. Tom, Julia, and Susan certainly thought the plan excellent; it suited their ideas of mischief. Even Fanny had no objections, for the idea of pretending to be one thing for the sake of confusing her adversaries
As she had often called the Crawfords.
held great appeal, and promoted the hope that she might be left alone. Furthermore, it allowed her to appear innocent if her uncle ever asked her about it.
(Cheering)
The Lascelles House, as the great house now owned by Mr. Rushworth was called, was almost completely silent. If anyone passing by thought that they heard something, they dismissed it as servants performing their cleaning tasks. They would have been shocked to learn that the faint sounds of things being moved were not made by servants, but by the mistress of the house.
Voice of a London Matron: “What? A lady working? In her own house? Insupportable! Has she any decency?
Since her shocking discovery nearly a month before, Maria was determined to find evidence to prove or disprove her conclusions. James' behavior still seemed strange, and he was now away. On business, he claimed. What business he would not tell her, and the servants seemed ignorant of the details. Maria at first wondered if maybe they were being loyal, but her kindness to them, combined with discreet inquiries by her maidservant (who had been her maidservant at Mansfield), ultimately led to dismissing that idea; the servants were open with her, and never gave her even a moment's alarm, or made her feel like an outsider.
The exception was the servant who was closest to Mr. Rushworth: his valet, Jones. He knew his master's secret, and allowed no hint of it to escape from any part of his demeanor or voice. Fortunately, Jones often went with Mr. Rushworth when he went away on long journeys. And Mr. Rushworth had gone away on “business,” as he called it, in the north of England, and Jones was with him. Therefore, Maria was at liberty to search her husband's things.
Between feelings of betrayal over his assumed infidelity, guilt because she wondered if she had earned such treatment, hope that there was an innocent and acceptable explanation for everything, and pride driving her to keep “her man,” she was desperate to find something to tell her what the truth was.
Having completely gone through the contents of the drawers in his study (his “other room,” as he called it), Maria was now in front of the door to his bedchamber. Rarely, her aunt Norris had instructed her, was a lady to enter her husband's chamber; martial “visits” often took place in the lady's bedchamber.
Maria tensed at the memory of the “talk” between herself, her mother, and her aunt. It was, her aunt claimed, for her benefit, to ensure felicity and a prosperous marriage, and all young ladies needed to have such instruction from their female elders as the topics were unknown to proper ladies until on the verge of their marriage.
Instead of being helpful, as both matrons had intended, the experience left Maria worried, and contemplating whether it would be best for Fanny and Julia to die old maids. Lady Bertram said very little, except for “follow your husband's lead; he will likely know what to do,” and “the martial duty is an infrequent task, and usually does not take very long.” Knowing how little Mr. Rushworth knew of matters Maria had come to expect young men to know, this was not encouraging. But her mother had one more thing to tell: “uncomfortable it will be at first, but that shall pass eventually; and if you remain fond of each other, then it is less of a duty.”
Well, well, well... Here's an unexpected admission! Lady Bertram speaking so openly about her love for Sir Thomas, and suggesting that there could be something wonderful awaiting her daughter!
These words, had they been all that was said, would have been enough to lift Maria's spirits, and give her hope for a better future. Even if James did not look like the romantic hero she had daydreamed about as a girl, he would surely look to her comfort in this matter, and perhaps could learn enough to make her mother's words come true. But she was not to leave with such comforting hopes; Mrs. Norris had her own views on what the marriage bed was like, and Maria had to strengthen herself against what she knew would be a terrible lesson. To call it a frightening experience did not describe the half of it. Mrs. Norris endeavored to impress upon her that “it would always be a duty, and no amount of pleasure would change that. Indeed, for a wife to enjoy the experience was a sin!
We must remember that Auntie Dearest was married to a clergyman who, since he was Sir Thomas' good friend, very likely held strict views about that part of life.
A wife must be obedient to her husband in all things, and run the house as he wishes. She must treat all of his family as coming before her, and, above all, she must never complain about any of them! Such a wife is considered ideal by all men, regardless of birth.”
Yeah, I bet you were a paragon of this particular sort...
Maria's horror had been, and was still, mixed with doubt that her aunt even followed her own advice; too many occasions of contrary behavior came to mind, and were quickly dismissed from thought so to avoid a headache. A deep breath, and she entered her husband's room. This hunt was even more frustrating than the searches of the other rooms; many of the drawers were locked, and it seemed that the keys were in hiding, or else Jones had brought them with him and his master. Still, she did not quit the room for hours; once every place she could reach had been thoroughly searched, she had to admit defeat.
Well, that means that every room in this house has been searched. The proof must be in one of those locked drawers, but I do not think I can pick the locks and have them repaired quickly enough; I do not know for certain when James will return, but I know it will be by early Tuesday afternoon.
Which left her with only the occasionally entertaining parties of London to keep her occupied, including hers on the 28th, and with the strong possibility of seeing either Crawford, they seemed tedious. Though the servants had learned of Mr. Crawford's absence, that did not solve the problem of his sister.
I know the song goes, “How Do You Solve a Problem Like Maria?” but my mind is singing “How Do You Solve a Problem Like Mary?” and I can't get it to stop. Argh!
Maria was grateful that Edmund had returned so promptly to Mansfield, and had dared to write him a letter encouraging him to do as much good in the country as possible; it would endear him to those in his parish. His short response seemed to indicate no awareness of her ulterior motive, but it seemed that he would return to London within a few weeks. So now he was due back at any moment, and, despite her frustrations with him, she invited him to stay with her; the house was too quiet for her taste, and, after all, he was her brother. A chance for them to mend their fences would be good for them all, and it might provide her with someone to talk to about her situation; she had not been able to write to Portsmouth about James's activities,
She was too engrossed in her search.
and could not write to Mansfield about them,
After hearing from Julia and Fanny about Sir Thomas's reaction to the true story about Mr. Crawford, she doubted she would get the sort of help that she needed.
so she was in desperate need of someone trusted to give advice in person. Edmund, for all his faults, could be trusted with her secret and would help her in any way possible. Or so she hoped.
After all, part of her worries concerned the very people he wanted Fanny more connected to. Not to mention himself.
At last, unable to think of anything else to search, she decided that writing a letter to Portsmouth would ease her burden. She contemplated what she would write as she walked to her desk and pulled out paper and pen. At last, deciding to unburden her heart, she wrote the following:
February 27, 1809
Lascelles HousesMy Dearest Fanny, Julia, and Tom,
I apologize for the length of my delay, but I simply could not make myself calm enough to write until now. You will understand my delay once I explain all. To start, my health has taken some time to recover. I understand that Mother has written to you, expressing her joy. No doubt she mentioned my ailments. I have been assured by my Mother and by several of the married servants that the memory of the discomfort will fade soon enough. I have a new respect for my Mother; how she, of all ladies, endured over a month of stomach sickness, bouts of dizziness, and overwhelming tiredness is a marvel to me. Yet the symptoms have gotten better over the past few days.
Sadly, I haven't had the chance to properly rest, as is recommended when you are expecting. The reason is that I've been concerned about James's behavior over the past month. He goes away frequently, without telling me much about where he is going or what his business is. He was so open before, so this is alarming in of itself. His valet seems a conspirator in his master's secret efforts, but no other servant has any idea what is happening. A few weeks ago, while he was away – again! – I went searching through his front desk, and found a letter from a female whom I do not know. The contents were about a meeting, and the need to keep me from discovering what was happening.
Forgive my sloppy hand, for I hardly know what to write. I have held this in too long, and I am in such need of someone I can trust to know what I am dealing with. I have searched my house top and bottom, and have found no other letters from this, this twit. I am torn between feelings of betrayal and of hope, hope that there is some innocent explanation for all this madness. I am afraid to even speak of my troubles before the servants; though I think them loyal to myself, I am well aware of how much a maidservant enjoys gossip, so I dare not permit any word of my fears to become common knowledge. And Heaven knows what Mrs. Rushworth would have to say; she will, without question, defend her son and attack me.
I feel trapped. Now I think I should have remained single; then I would not feel so terrible about myself, I would not be in such a humiliating situation, and I would likely be with you in Portsmouth, meeting the rest of my family. I am desperate for aid. And yet aid may be coming; Edmund is to stay here for this particular London stay. As much trouble as it has been to get him to hear our side of the story, I shall attempt it again, and perhaps even confide my troubles; I believe that he would do anything to help me, even if he just thinks that he is calming the nerves of his pregnant sister. I pray, Fanny, that I can convince him to cease his support for His Vanity, and I pray that such an event might lead to the end of our dealings with any person of that family.
Ooh! I am feeling sick again. My symptoms get worse when I get emotional, and I need to be in control of myself when Edmund arrives. And James, since he will be here no later than early afternoon on the morrow. So I need to end this on a different note.
Speaking of the Crawfords, I saw The Sister not too long ago. It was on the 19th, here at Lascelles. Yes, she dared to call on me. I could not be seen to refuse her entrance, for I had other guests at the time. (Though I shall try to avoid receiving her again if I can.) She was in good manners and spirits, and was in the company of her old friend Mrs. Fraiser. I could not care for Mrs. Fraiser; she embodies too many of the “qualities” shown by London “ladies” for me to like her. Yet her mercenary tendencies may reawaken Miss Crawford's, and thus separate her and my brother. So I cannot completely dislike her. Conversation was tolerable, nothing of consequence till she mentioned Fanny, in a rather sister-like manner. I suspected she wanted to see how I would react, thinking that perhaps I still harbor some feelings for her brother. Well, I daresay I disappointed her, for I proceeded to speak of you, Fanny, with even greater affection, dwelling on your many merits, your talents, and your person. Yes, Fanny, I know you do not like to be complemented on your appearance, but you must own that you are very beautiful. I went so far as to claim that you seem fit to be a duchess, and flatly stated the qualities I think a man must have to be worthy of you. Miss Crawford certainly understood that I meant that her brother has none of those qualities, and I suspect that the rest (even Mrs. Fraiser) grasped it as well. Miss Crawford looked on the verge of saying something very improper, but restrained herself, and she and Mrs. Fraiser left soon after. The others I am beginning to consider friends, so I told them bits of last summer and of his inconsiderate behavior towards Fanny. Oh, I did not mention our names, Julia, but enough details to show his true character. And it seems that many of them had heard some story of Mr. Crawford, though nothing like had happened to them; they only heard it through others. I may have some allies in discrediting him in Father's eyes, if I can find someone who was wronged and whose word Father could not doubt.
Lord! I hear a carriage. It must be Edmund, and I need time to see if I can tell him about my troubles. So, I wish you all the best of everything. Have plenty of fun, for my sake. I have to host a party here tomorrow night, which I do not look forward to. However, I will meet Miss Fraiser, and if she is what I have heard she is, I will make sure to give my blessing to a match between her and His Vanity. With Miss Crawford nearby. It will be difficult to seem innocent in such a scheme, but I will try much for you, Fanny. It seems the only thing I have any control over at present. My joys will have to be found in my child, and in seeing my dear siblings and cousins happily married.
I will write again soon after the party. Please write me back promptly; I need your counsels. Decide amongst yourselves as to whether my aunt and uncle should hear of this.
Your sister,
Maria Rushworth
Maria quickly sealed the letter and wrote the direction, and was barely done when a servant directed someone into the room. She got up, expecting her brother, and saw her husband's smiling face.
Which meant a faltering expression on her face, which surely could not be to her advantage.
“James! I have been waiting for your presence for several days. What took you so long?” The smile changed for a moment, so quickly that a less observant person would have missed it, only increasing Maria's worries. It seemed he had not expected to see her so soon.
Ouch... Not a good sign...
“Oh, a... prospect took longer than I wanted to... evaluate. The man wanted more than I was ready to pay for, and then I determined, with help from Jones, that he had... lied about his wares. So it was all a wild goose chase.”
Curiouser and curiouser... as Alice would say.
The pauses were characteristic of him, but the type of answer was his stock answer lately. She suspected that he was telling a small bit of the truth, but leaving a great deal out. She was about to press for details, which were likely not forthcoming, when he asked a series of questions about the party. She answered them promptly, assuring him that everything was ready. Then she heard a familiar female voice, and it took all her strength to remain composed. “Your mother has come? I had no word.”
(collective Dwiggie shudder at thought of unexpected visit from in-laws)
His smile grew greater, and his words were in his usual, slightly rushed, manner. “Well, she wanted to see us open the house, and see some old friends. So I picked her up on my way back. She will be with us for a fortnight at least.”
Okay, he is a momma's boy, but that fails to prove anything. Except perhaps that he still relies heavily on his mother when it is time to rely on his wife.
“Oh.” And at that moment, she could see her father's carriage pull up, with Edmund inside. Delightful, she thought in despair. Now it was impossible to confide in anyone, except through letter. And even that must now be done in some secrecy.
Tom's former self-confidence gave him no aid as he tried to quietly discern whether Susan would really accept his attentions. Watching Mr. Crawford's “courtship” of Fanny convinced him that he must give some clear notice of his intentions, so he could tell whether they were wished for. The idea that they might not be in this quarter was why he hesitated.
He was still hesitating when, over a week later, Maria's letter arrived and caused no small alarm among her Portsmouth family. Mr. Price knew better than to consort with any woman other than his wife, nor did he ever have the desire to do so.
Course as he is, his heart was of gold.
Mrs. Price felt Maria's shame, knowing what a fate she herself had escaped by fleeing with Mr. Price all those years before. However, what she had been told of Mr. Rushworth's behavior at Mansfield felt at odds with the subterfuge he seemed to be engaging in. It was too much to ponder, and she could think of no advice to Maria that would be helpful; thus she left it to her eldest daughter and her sister's children to offer consolation.
Knowledge of Maria's troubles were kept from everyone except Susan; Fanny and Julia had hopes of bringing her to Mansfield as a companion, and she would be privy to all the family news. And they were not ignorant of Tom's desires, nor of the gazes Susan would give him when he was not looking.
It was Fanny's turn to write to Maria, and they needed to consider a response to Miss Crawford's letter. Mrs. Price believed that they could get away with writing Maria first, and waiting for her ideas about confusing the Crawfords; Julia liked the idea of causing mischief on those who had given her almost sister such pain, and Susan was intrigued by such fun; Tom, having seen many such games in London, felt it better to not reply at all. “'Tis better to pretend you never got it,” he advised Fanny, “for it keeps you innocent in all appearances.” In this advice, he wished to shield her from any reproach from his father, which he feared might happen if they played any games of their own.
No one knows the games better, after all, than one who nearly played them himself.
Considering her options, Fanny ultimately sided with Tom and then burned Miss Crawford's letter. She and Tom watched the flames consume it, a small sense of relief at the sight filling both, while the other ladies went about to handle various household tasks.
This gave Fanny an opening to speak of the very subject that Tom had spent so much time dancing around in his mind. “I am glad, cousin,” she began indirectly, in a low tone as to not carry through the thin walls, “that we have all gotten to know my family. I had dared hope for such pleasure in Portsmouth.”
Having never known Fanny to be sly, Tom merely nodded his agreement. “Indeed.” Many such delights, he silently admitted to himself.
“And my sister is becoming such a lady herself,” continued Fanny, openly eying Tom's reaction.
Didn't think she had it in her, did you...?
Tom stilled, shock and horror filling his face. Was he that obvious? If so, he feared that his thoughts were known throughout the house. Fanny took pity on her cousin. “She does not know how you feel, but I am sure that she would be receptive. Our parents like you, and you have proved to me that you have reformed. That shall not be an issue, Tom.” Seeing him hesitate further, she pressed on another point. “Such a match would bring pleasure to many; you will elevate my family's circumstances, and assure my uncle of a good successor to my aunt; Maria will be delighted to see you both happy; and it... might take some pressure of myself.” Fanny almost did not mention the last part, but the improved relationship with her cousins had created a new sense of candidness between them, and she hated seeing Tom torment himself so.
Before he knew what happened, she left him to his thoughts. That forced him to consider how the Price family had treated him since his arrival. His uncle appreciated his company, and his young cousins looked up to him; his aunt appreciated the calm he could bring to the house, and how kind he was to Betsy. As for Susan, it was clear that she enjoyed his company, but Tom had to remember that – like Fanny – she was completely inexperienced in matters of the heart. Even more care would be required.
The very object of his thoughts entered then, bringing some clothing to fold. His gaze transfixed by the life her fresh take on life her very presence brought to the room.
(insert preferred comment on what qualities people give their beloveds)
He imagined Susan stuck in Portsmouth for the rest of her days, marrying someone other than himself; his being cringed at the thought. No, he had to do something, and Fanny was right. As she often was, he silently admitted.
“Susan,” began he, standing slowly to hide his nerves, “would you have the time to walk with me? It is rather fine out.”
Contrary to her sister's thinking, Susan was not as innocent in knowledge as Fanny was; yet she lacked as much experience as her sister. Asked to walk alone with an honourable man she admired, what could be better?
Getting that ring on your finger...
She immediately consented to get her bonnet, and ask if Fanny and Julia would handle her task. No objections were raised, even by Mrs. Price; thought she stopped Tom to remind him that Susan's blessing was needed before they would give theirs, and that they would not give it until she had informed them of doing so. Her nephew was satisfied. Indeed, it was the sort of reaction he wished his father had given to Mr. Crawford.
Before long, the young couple were walking toward the docks. The ladies sighed at the relief that some in the household were about to find happiness. Betsy merely wondered what anyone wanted with Susan.
Give her a few years... Then she might frighten even Lydia... though I hope not.
Not long after the folding was finished, the ladies were cleaning the parlour. A knock on the door startled them all. “Who can that be,” Mrs. Price thought aloud, “for Mrs. Phillips is not due until tomorrow. Indeed, we are to come to her. But Rebeccah will get the door; it is the only thing she does without reminder.”
She did not bother telling her girls to clean further; they were not aiming to impress. And if the young men that Susan and Julia had brought with them that one day were not offended by their home, then Mrs. Price would not take the trouble to scrub today.
Rebeccah's greeting was mumbled by the hall, but the answering man's voice rang into the room. “I am calling on Mr. and Mrs. Price.” Fanny and Julia stiffened immediately. Mr. Crawford!
Rats! Just when we had a reprieve from the man!