Beginning, Section II, Next Section

Chapter Five

There were days when Sam was not able to accompany Eric across the lane and into the large rolling field to visit Webb and his horses. Both Fanny and Hanna were loath to allow Eric to go by himself. However, Sam was able to persuade and give the women a small sense of comfort after telling them that Webb was a trustworthy man. Sam called upon their trust in his judgment. It was that argument that finally gave the women the reassurance that they so needed. As a compromise Sam made Eric to promise to not stray out of the sight of the house. Fanny reiterated this with another condition; Eric was only allowed to stay away for an hour when he was by himself.

The first day that Eric came alone Webb was very worried that his mother and Sam would be searching for the boy. He almost made Eric turn around and march straight home. However, Eric was able to give Webb a letter that Fanny had written with the conditions that must be followed in order for Eric's visits to occur without Sam's presence. Webb was much relieved and made a point of making sure that on the days that Eric came alone to follow the conditions set forth by his mother and Sam. He began carrying a pocket watch, a trinket that Webb had never carried due the risk of it being caught on something that could do him or horse harm. Webb made sure that Eric left five minutes before their hour was complete so that the boy could return home within the allotted hour. The tenant of Ridgeview House along with Sam and Hanna noticed this attention and respect for their wishes. Sam's esteem for the horseman grew and Fanny's and Hanna's could not but emulate his.

It was during one of the days these days, while Eric was improving his acquaintance with Pride and Webb was answering all the questions that the boy was throwing at him while trying to not to laugh, that Edmund rode up and found the trio. Webb hearing the approaching rider turned and nodded his head at his master. Edmund nodded and called back, "How goes it Webb? What troubles have popped up today?"

"None as of yet, Mr. Bertram, but the day is still young," replied Webb dryly.

"Ever the optimist, Webb," retorted Edmund with a grin. The older man just nodded but Edmund caught the flicker of a grin on the man's face. Edmund rode up and dismounted before continuing, "Who is this young gentleman, Webb?"

Webb turned and noticed that Eric had still engrossed in talking to Pride and had barely given any notice to Edmund. Prodding the boy on the shoulder and saying, "This is Eric Graham, Mr. Bertram. He and his mother live in Ridgeview House just over there." At the mention of his name Eric turned and briefly noticed a tall gentleman standing beside a beautiful gray horse.

Edmund noticed the boy's attention on his horse and chuckled. Looking up at Webb he said, "You were not exaggerating in the least when you told me that the boy is a great admirer of these animals. You know I do not believe the boy will remember my name."

Webb nodded again at his master before replying; "The only reason the boy knows my name is that he asks me so many blasted questions about them. He quickly learned that I wouldn't answer his questions until he started addressing me properly. Eric is a good boy though but very focused when there is something that interests him."

"Interesting trait in one so young," replied Edmund. "Why is he here alone? I thought you said that there was a man that usually accompanied him."

"Ah, yes there is, sir. Sometimes though Sam can't get away from his duties to Mrs. Graham. A fortnight ago Eric's mother sent the boy over with a letter stating that he would be allowed to come over provided that he only stay an hour and remain within sight of the house."

"Easy enough requests to follow," interjected Edmund. Suddenly he noticed that Eric had slowly been inching forward towards him. Kneeling down he caught the eye of the young boy. "Would you like to meet this great gray beast then, Eric?" he asked with a smile on him face.

Eric looked at Edmund and smiled before saying, "Yes, sir please."

Edmund stood back up and said, "This is Ghost. He is my trusty companion when I go riding and a good friend."

"Ghost," repeated Eric quietly. "Why is he called that Mr...ah...umm."? Eric blushed and looked over at Webb for help.

Edmund watched the as the embarrassed boy glanced around to Webb then over to Pride with a hopeful and pleading look on his face. Edmund finally decided to rescue the boy from further embarrassment by saying, "Eric, please call me Edmund." This struck both Webb and Edmund as odd. The older man was astonished that he would allow a boy to call him such. Edmund was surprised that he could feel so at ease around a child, when they normally made him feel awkward. Eric on the other hand was oblivious to the two men's reactions. However, it should be noted that the boy did ponder this strange request by a man he had never met later that same day upon returning home to complete his lessons.

"Mr. Edmund, I like all of your horses. I wish I could have them all and learn to ride them and maybe learn to train them like Mr. Webb," said Eric while he stroked Ghost's neck.

"Why thank you, Mr. Eric," said Edmund with a smile. "Now to answer your question as to why Ghost is named as he is. I first saw Ghost on a foggy morning about 5 years ago not long after I moved here. I had taken an early morning ride, as I am prone to do, when I saw this apparition." Edmund paused when he saw the look of confusion cross Eric's face. "Apparition means for lack of a better word, ghost, Eric." The boy smiled up at Edmund who continued with his story. "I followed the shadow through the mist and before I knew it I was hopelessly lost without the faintest sense of direction, on my own land much to my shame. I sat for a time wondering what I should do when the same horse that I followed in my current condition just appeared out of the mist from nowhere. The horse turned and my mount began following. Before I knew it this strange horse had led me back to familiar ground and then again disappeared. I told this story to almost everyone that I could to try and find out about the mystery horse. No one believed me, save Webb here. After a few months of strange and inconsistent meetings with this mystery horse I was able to coax the animal all the way back to the stable with me. It was then that we found that the animal had been abused most abominably and Webb and I felt that we could not in good conscience let the animal go. We eventually got the horse to trust us enough to tend to its wounds and aptly named him Ghost. Not a long after that we discovered the true owner of the horse. I had the man thrown off my land and brought his son to the estate to work for Webb and myself." Turning to look at Webb Edmund saw a flicker of anger in the man's eyes as he remembered the state that the other horse's had been in and the mistreatment of Colin. Edmund realizing that the memory still brought pain to the man he quickly asked, "Have you introduced young Eric here to our Colin, Webb."

Webb slowly looked up as employer and met his eye, holding it for a moment, before replying, "No, Mr. Bert..."

Edmund interrupted Webb quickly, "Webb call me Edmund too would you? Eric does not seem to have a problem with it and I would be most gratified if you would."

Caught off guard by the interruption and the strange request Webb could only stare at the man before him. Slowly he smiled and said, "It would be an honor, Edmund, but you must call me Arthur. I will only call you by your Christian name when we are not around your other servants and such. Now to answer your question, no, I have not introduced Eric to Colin yet."

"Well I think it would be a great benefit to both the boys. What do you think, Arthur?" asked Edmund while looking over at Eric who was walking back and forth between the two horses.

"I don't doubt that it is a good idea, Edmund. The problem is I can't bring Colin out here and not worry my head off that one of those other fools back at the stable won't burn it to the ground or some such nonsense. Colin is the only one I trust the stable to in my absence."

"Well, then why not see if Eric can make a trip over to Northbridge for a day to meet Colin and watch you as you train," suggested Edmund. Looking over at Eric he burst out laughing when he saw that the boy had frozen in mid-stride and had turned his saucer-sized eyes on Edmund.

Swallowing hard Eric asked breathlessly, "Would you really let me come, Mr. Edmund?"

"I would be delighted and I am sure that Webb and Colin would enjoy having another horse enthusiast around to talk to. Would you not, Webb?" asked Edmund as he continued to chuckle.

"I suppose I wouldn't mind having the boy over for a day. I don't think that his mother would allow it though," said Webb doubtfully.

Eric's face fell and he said dejectedly, "She probably won't let me come, Mr. Edmund. She barely let me come here, just across the lane. Sam had to talk to both Mother and Hanna for hours before they agreed to let me. I sat and listened to them that night from my hiding place on the back stairs."

Edmund paused for a moment and then said, "Here is what I shall do then, Eric. I will write your mother a letter requesting that you be allowed to visit Northbridge Manor in the company of Sam. Perhaps I will be able to persuade her in this manner. Do not mention it to her though so that she will not be inclined to immediately refuse out request." Eric shook his head and silently swore that he would not tell his mother, just this once. "Now gentleman I must be off. Eric it was a pleasure meeting you and I hope to have you visit me at Northbridge in the near future. Webb, things seem to be progressing well here. I wish I could devote more of my time to our project here but until the harvest is complete I must be readily available to Criss. Once the harvest is over I will be able to turn my full attention over to you."

Webb nodded and said, "Things have been interesting without you, Edmund. You know that I am not the best around people and having to deal with all of these builders and such has proved to be a trial. Sam Williamson, Mrs. Graham's butler and all manner of other odd jobs, has been helping me though. Don't worry, I'll have this stable done soon."

"I'm sure you shall, Arthur." Edmund turned and addressed Eric, "Have you finished saying farewell to Ghost then?" Eric nodded forlornly and Edmund smiled, mounted, and said before leaving, "Do not worry, Eric. You shall see Ghost again, I promise. Good day to you both." With that Edmund turned his horse and rode back to the lane where he began trotting down the lane towards Leighton Park.

As Edmund rode away from the boy and his horse master he could not shake a disturbing sensation that had plagued him since he had first laid eyes on Eric. He was struck by how familiar the boy looked. He could not put his finger on why this boy would be at all familiar to him. Until fifteen minutes ago, Edmund had never seen the boy and he knew that he did not know the boy's dead father or his mother who chose solitude for her mourning. He could not judge her for seeking the peace that many found when alone but he hoped that the widow would not fall into the destructive cycle that his own mother went through when his father died all those years before.

Edmund pushed Ghost into a canter and tried to think of happier times with his family at least he had Tom and Julia left. The relationships had changed between them all in their maturity. Tom became the model eldest brother. Julia married a wonderful man who was not so wealthy as his other sister's husband but the love that he and Julia shared far out weighed the monetary differences.

The 'other' sister was Mariah and the worldly one of the four. Sadly Edmund's own wife, Mary, influenced her in many ways. She had been quite the toast of the Ton for many years and if what Julia told Edmund in her letters she was still a force to be reckoned with. Mariah had a vivacity and hunger for life that many rarely saw. However, the Ton, never a body to accept one on simple merit, watched her for a season when she arrived a newlywed. She quickly became a favorite with the ladies and later a popular choice for those men who neither respected the vows of their marriages nor those of a willing partner. Tales of Mariah's exploits where known to the Ton and her family. However, the hypocrisy of Society had no bounds, as Edmund had intimate knowledge. Bitterly he remembered Mariah coming to him and telling him that if he divorced Mary that irrevocable shame would be placed on the family.

In his self-pity and anger Edmund swore that he would seek to shame Mary by publicly divorcing her. At those words Mariah laughed at him coldly and told him that whatever shame he sought to place on her would only be thrown back on him. 'She's gone to France, you fool' cried Mariah. 'Do you think that any woman can lift her head up with pride in that country if she hasn't cuckolded her husband at least once? You will only be seen as a man who was incapable of keeping her and who then tries to weakly strike back with claiming that she betrayed you. The thing you must remember Edmund is that if you bring this out into the open for all to know then all of our friends will turn their backs on us. Why! We would be seen, as no better than the common farmer's family who has a loose daughter or a rake for a son. Surely you must see that? Intrigue and betrayal is a part of Society, Edmund. It is kept within Society to protect those of us who are a part of it and to provide the lower, less educated, and poor with a symbol. They must always see us as better both financially and morally whether it is true or not, brother. Society has only ever been about image not truth.'

Edmund remembered being shocked and speechless after Mariah had finished with her monologue but also sickened because he knew she was right. There was nothing he could do to Mary without it affecting his entire family. Even more disturbing was seeing his sister for the first time as what she really was, a hard, cold, conniving, pleasure-seeking member of the Ton who daily cloaked herself in the garb of self-righteousness for being in the position that those below her provided with the sweat from their brows and the blood from their veins. That was the last time Edmund had spoken with Mariah. It was not two weeks later that Tom had come to Edmund and made his offer of Northbridge or nothing.

"Edmund!" shouted a voice.

Glancing around trying to find the source of the voice he heard the sound of hooves coming from behind him. Pulling Ghost to a halt he turned in the saddle and looked over his shoulder to James riding towards him. "James. How are things?"

"Remarkably well, old boy," replied James as his pulled to a halt beside Edmund. "Have you had tea yet?"

"No, I was hoping to get some of your cook's wonderful scones this afternoon. That's the only reason I ever come over here. If I could ever get Penelope to come over and persuade the recipe out your cook then I'd never have to come over to this old ruin," said Edmund airily.

"Old ruin? I am making improvements on Ridgeview, as you well know. Plus, Leighton is at least half a century younger than that cold, dank, pile of rubble that you have the nerve to call a house. As for getting the scone recipe, I'd gladly order Diana to give it your cook. She may be able to cook a scone that will melt in your mouth but beyond that Lord knows she needs all the help she can get," James shot back.

"I'll be sure and tell Penelope before the next time you come over to dinner, old man."

James grinned, "One day I'll talk her out of your ancient kitchen, Bertram. She adores me, you know."

Sighing in defeat Edmund nodded before saying, "You're probably right. Penelope has never quite been able to build up the defenses to ward off the Laurence charm."

"Most women never will, Bertram. Do you still want to take notes? I thought so. Well come on then we'll start a new lesson today, 'How to flatter with sincerity and not really mean it.' That trick always serves me well when I'm in London."

Both men laughed and turned their mounts towards the large house. The afternoon passed pleasantly for the gentleman as they exchanged stories concerning their tenants. James' were more often than not humorous concerning how a cat got stuck in a tree or the tenant getting stuck while trying to save the cat. Edmund's tended to be more serious, dealing with the tenants personal problems from married couples squabbles to concern over crops. He listened to them all. It was the one thing in his life that did not change when he relocated to the North. Edmund still enjoyed listening and helping people. Both men listened and offered each other advice on different issues. They then moved onto the subject of the newest addition to their neighborhood.

"I met the widow's son today, James," Edmund said casually. "The boy has a strong interest in horses. Do you know he walked right up to Ghost and I swear the horse actually nuzzled the boy, like he was meeting an old friend. You know how Ghost used to be. Wouldn't let anyone but Webb, Colin, or I near him and then today he just...It was incredible."

During this speech James had gone very still and his eyes flashed dangerously. "I thought I said that the widow wanted to be left alone, Edmund."

Edmund quickly looked over at his friend and saw the face of a stranger with cold eyes, "I know what you said James but..."

James interrupted, "But you just had to find out didn't you? Is it not enough that I tell you her request? You have to go and make sure that she doesn't want to be disturbed. My God man! Even the horrible mothers and gossips have left her alone at my request,"

Edmund listened in shock as his friend's quiet voice bit off each word. Never in his life had seen such a transformation from jovial comrade to sinister stranger with a voice that could chill the bone. Edmund's own anger at the accusations began to rise to the surface. He knew that if he did not clear up the misunderstanding quickly then things could get out of hand.

Holding up his hands in surrender Edmund replied slowly and clearly but with a steel edge, "James, I did not go and bother the poor woman. Do you honestly think I would something so unfeeling and crass?"

"People never are who they appear to be." Came the cold reply.

"I more than anyone in the world agree and understand your meaning with that statement. However, applying it to this situation is foolish. The boy, Eric, has been visiting Webb for a few weeks now while the barns are being built. Webb likes the boy and I see no reason to discourage the relationship. Eric's mother knows of the visits and has not problem with them. I met the boy in a the field across the lane from Ridgeview today and had a chat with him."

James has visibly relaxed at this speech. He looked at his friend and saw that the other was sitting as stiffly as he had been. "I am sorry, my friend. There are issues that I am dealing with that I cannot impart to you now and they weigh heavily on my mind. Someday I will tell you everything. This widow has brought out the protector in me and I feel that it my duty to keep all the curious and nosey at bay."

"I understand your reasons, Laurence, for wanting to help the widow. If you feel that I should end this friendship between Webb and Eric please tell me so and I will do my best to see it happen. However, I believe that the boy could be of some good to not only Webb but also my stable boy Colin. You remember the one whose father abused him and his animals?"

"Didn't Webb almost kill that boy's father?"

Edmund nodded and replied, "I've never seen him like that since. Arthur Webb did not exist during that incident. He had been replaced by something that I never wish to see again."

"Listen Bertram, I see nothing wrong with Webb, Colin, and you being friends with the boy. However, I do think that it you should write to Eric's mother and get her opinion on the matter. She may wish for the boy to left alone as well."

Edmund considered this thoughtfully and replied, "I will do as you advise, Laurence. As for the nosey neighbors, do not worry I will make sure that all my tenants know the widow's and your wishes on the lady's solitude."

"I appreciate your understanding and help."

Their afternoon continued with them sitting in companionable silence in the library, both reading books by Fredrick Mason. Having read them the two men skipped around to their favorite parts and discussed them, both trying to argue that they knew how the stories would end. As all good and peaceful things do, the afternoon ended with an interruption from the butler who brought in an express for James.

James broke the seal and read the missive quickly.

J,
May have found something.
Let you know when to meet when you get to town.

R

"Everything all right, Laurence?" inquired Edmund from the large leather chair by the window. He had noticed that his friend had become tense and his face set into a hard unreadable expression.

James mentally had to wrestle his mind back from his raging thoughts before responding. "What? Oh, yes, just a note from an old friend. I'm afraid I'll have to go to London in a day or two. Something of great importance has come up."

"What's happened?" asked Edmund looking closely at his friend

James avoided Edmund's eye and hedged with, "Oh it is nothing to concern yourself with. Just something that needs to be looked into."

"James..." Edmund began but James cut in quickly.

"Edmund, this is something that I must keep to myself at this time. Please do not begin questioning me because all that will do is upset me. Rest assured that when the time is right I will tell you. I hope you can content yourself until then."

As James finished Edmund continued looking at the face across from him. If the firm set of his mouth had not convinced Edmund then when he looked into the eyes of his friend was answer enough. James' eyes had taken on a quality that Edmund had only seen a few times in their five-year friendship and always following some urgent message from town. What he saw there was rage so completely controlled that it made all the more frightening.

Nodding his head slowly Edmund said softly, "I may not understand or know what is going on, James, but I will do as you ask. I know that you will tell me if you wish to and until then I will content myself with theories and conjecture."

That brought a faint smile to James' lips. Edmund sat for a moment and watched as his friend almost visibly metamorphosised from cold and distant to someone that Edmund recognized, his jovial, carefree friend. Shaking his head in confusion Edmund continued, "Why not go now? If it is serious I am sure that Clancy will be able to handle things well enough in your absence."

"Oh it's not that I don't trust Clancy," said James while he hurriedly scribbled a reply and instructed the waiting butler to send this back express post. "It is just that I need time to think and plan my next move that is all."

"Think and plan your next move?" Repeated Edmund like an echo. "What is this, Laurence, chess?"

"Yes and no. Right now the game is more cat and mouse." James looked over at his friend to meet a bewildered gaze. Chuckling he replied, "Come man, don't worry about it. Believe me if I need help you will be among the first that I ask. This project has been something that I have been working on for some time now."

"You know I hate it when you go all cryptic on me, Laurence!"

James laughed, "I know, old boy, that's why I do it. Stop scowling. You know the only way to get you to stop is to," James paused before continuing. "Yes, it is the only way. Come on! I do believe I smell scones."

Edmund allowed himself to be persuaded, with very little effort, and both men exited the library and followed the smell of baking scones to the kitchens, where the cook, Diana, was scandalized but flattered that not one but two gentlemen would come into kitchen to request a plate full of scones. The two men sang her praises to the rooftops, literally, at least on James' part. Needless to say there were many a fluttering heart and countless deep sighs that followed the departure of the gentlemen.

Chapter Six

"So Arthur tell me what you thought of Fredrick Mason's newest book," asked Sam as a way to break the silence that had settled around the two men and small boy as they stood in an open field watching the paint dry on the newly completed fences.

Webb looked over at his new friend and shook his head. No other person, not even his employer Mr. Bertram called him by his first name until just recently. It took Webb a while to get used to Sam calling him that. In fact Webb had not responded the first few times Sam had used until he realized that he was the one being address. "I believe I have already told you Sam."

Sam grinned back at Webb. He had learned that Webb was not one for talking and absolutely abhorred idle conversation. Once learning this Sam had begun his mission to bring Webb around to the idea that talking to humans was not as bad as it once was thought to be. Sam discovered that Webb could wax poetic on the subject of horses and their care when he first asked Webb about the reconstruction of Ridgeview's barn. Many of their discussions continued in this strain until the topic was exhausted and Sam was sure he knew more about horses than he had ever wished to. After almost going mad with talk of the animals Sam began steering Webb toward other topics. He had believed that due to Webb's expertise on equines that he would have little or no interest in things like politics, literature, society, and business. Much his surprise and relief, Sam found that Webb was very knowledgeable on the politics of the day and also had quite a head for business. However, Webb had no use for the foppery and inane sense of self importance found in society. He admitted to not being very well read, much to his dismay, and asked Sam for any suggestions he might offer. Sam had happily obliged and recommended several books and authors. Webb was able to find most the books Sam suggested that he read in the library at Northbridge.

Shockingly enough, Webb found that he truly enjoyed reading and in the few short weeks after meeting Sam had read a large portion of those suggested by his new friend. Through their shared enjoyment of reading the two men were able to strike up many conversations on their impressions of the books they had read. One of their favorite authors was one Fredrick Mason. Both of the men's favorite novel out of the three written by Mason was The True Fairie Tale. The book was a study in the intricacies of the family and how the pain caused by ones own blood was more devastating than any other wrong done by another human. This book was Sam and Webb's favorite for reasons that they had not shared with the other. Webb felt a connection to the book through his employer, Edmund Bertram. Over the years Webb had been able to piece together a picture of Edmund's life before Northbridge through observation and listening. While not knowing the particulars Webb still felt that one of Edmund's family members had done him a great wrong.

Sam on other hand liked the book for a completely different reason. While the book was a masterpiece in the literary world only three people knew the truth behind the book. The truth being that the author was not Fredrick Mason, rather that was the pen name used by Fanny Price-Crawford, lately Mrs. Graham. The only other people who knew were Hanna and Fanny's brother, who had secretly invested the profits from that first novel seven years before and those that followed.

"I know that you have told me Arthur but no matter how many times I ask a question you always alter the answer just enough to make me think that you are not telling me everything that goes on in that enigmatic brain of yours," said Sam.

"What does eni...enimat...oh what was the word, Sam?" piped up Eric. Both men turned in surprise towards the boy. They had supposed that the boy was too engrossed with Webb's mount that day, a gentle black mare named Queen, to pay any attention to what they were discussing.

Webb reached over and stroked the nuzzling nose of Queen and answered, "Enigmatic is a fancy way of saying mystery, Eric."

"Well you are a mystery, Arthur," broke in Sam. "You present yourself in such a way that most people just assume that all you know anything about is horses. It is only through my constant questioning that I have discovered that under the thick layer of equine knowledge lies a mind that almost equals my own."

Webb turned his head swiftly at that last statement and looked at his friend with narrowed eyes. Sam was looking back with a teasing grin and before Webb could respond the other man broke out in laughter. Webb shook his head and also started laughing until all three of them were clutching their sides in mirth.

It was during this time that Edmund approached the merry trio and was shocked at what he beheld. Standing beside the small boy and man was his horse master, who in the five years of Edmund knowing Webb had never seen the man express any form of happiness beyond a slight grin and very rare smile.

Clearing his throat he called down to the three, "Webb, is everything alright?"

Webb quickly turned when he heard his name called and seeing his master replied while still smiling widely, "Yes, sir, Mr. Bertram. All is well, just having a chat with Sam here."

Edmund glanced to Webb's left and saw the other man who was smiling up at him as well. Getting down from his horse Edmund approached the group. Webb turned towards Sam and began the introductions. "Mr. Bertram, this is Samuel Williamson. Mrs. Graham, who moved into Ridgeview House about a month ago, employs him. I believe both Eric and I have mentioned Sam to you, sir."

"Yes, indeed you have," replied Edmund with a nod.

Webb continued with the introduction "This is Mr. Edmund Bertram of Northbridge Manor. However, he is not a native of the north but a transplant from the south just as you yourselves are, Sam," said Webb. "Mr. Bertram is the brother of the Mr. Tom Bertram of Mansfield Park in -shire; where Mr. Bertram was raised and lived until his brother bought Northbridge Manor several years ago."

During this introduction Sam had been only been halfway listening. Eric had spoken to all of the occupants of Ridgeview about the gentleman who asked Eric to call him 'Edmund' but had not realized that he was referring to the master of Northbridge Manor. Webb had also told him the identity of his master. However, Webb had never told Sam the man's first name or latter part about Edmund's origin. Sam had always assumed that Mr. Bertram had been in the area all of his life and that Eric's 'Mr. Edmund' were two separate people as had Fanny and Hanna, he was sure. As this new revelation hit Sam he immediately knew that Fanny was not safe. He only hoped that he could conduct himself in a manner that would not reveal anything that would jeopardize her or Eric more. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Bertram," replied Sam with a small bow.

"It is an honor to meet you as well, Mr. Williamson. Mr. Webb has informed me that you three often meet here to talk. I had the pleasure of meeting Eric a few days ago when I was on my way to visit my friend at Laurence Park." replied Edmund carefully. He had seen the kaleidoscope of emotions flash across Sam's face and was surprised and not a little taken aback. Was it anger and suspicion flashing in the eyes of the older man, he wondered? Mentally shaking himself he realized that he was being foolish.

The men began a talking about the weather and other such things while they turned and continued their vigil over the drying fence. Sam watched Eric and also observed, more than once, the searching stare that Edmund would put on the small boy. Fear gripped Sam's heart because he knew that little Eric looked enough like his father to possibly gain notice. It was only a matter of time thought Sam frantically, before Bertram realizes. After five agonizing minutes Sam made the decision that it was time to return to the house. Before he could fully get away Webb asked something that almost stopped Sam's heart.

"Do you think Eric's mother would mind if you and the boy came over Northbridge for tea one day, Sam? I've been meaning to ask for a few days but haven't seen you. I'd like to show you the stables there and also let our little horseman here have a look at all the other horses at the estate."

"As a matter of fact, Webb," interrupted Edmund. "I sent a letter to Eric's mother requesting permission to have Eric and you, Mr. Williamson over for the day. It should be arriving today. There is so much that I know Eric would enjoying seeing and there is a young man whom I think would benefit from Eric's company and Eric from his. I have included all of this in my letter to her and hope for a positive answer within the next few days."

Sam tried to control a wave of panic as it rolled through his mind. Quickly he came up with an answer. "I cannot speak for Mrs. Graham, Mr. Bertram. It would not be my place to assume to know her mind in this situation," replied Sam in a noticeably detached tone of voice.

"Of course, Mr. Williamson. I understand," answered a bewildered Edmund when in fact he did not understand in the slightest the reaction from the man upon being introduced to him.

"I'm afraid that Eric and I must return to the house. It was a pleasure meeting you at last Mr. Bertram. Mr. Webb, I look forward to our next visit. Until then, good day to you both." Turning to Eric, Sam called out, "Eric, we must be going. Your mother will begin to worry if we are not back soon." The boy looked over at Sam and sadly nodded. He patted each horse on the neck and said a few quiet words of farewell and then began walking across the field with Sam at his side.

Edmund cleared his throat and said, "Well, I'd best getting back to Criss then. Are you still wanting to meet with me this evening, Arthur?"

"Yes, Edmund. I would like too if you don't mind."

"Not at all, please dine with me this evening at seven and bring Colin with you. The boy could use a little refining anyway or at least normal conversation where the subject which is being address actually responds in English and not snorts and snuffles," said Edmund smiling.

"Very well, Edmund. I shall see you at seven o'clock then," replied Webb with a nod.

Edmund mounted Ghost and started across the field in along the same path as Eric and Sam. As they made their way across field Webb watched the two figures walking and horseman riding away with a carefully expressionless face. Had Edmund seen underneath the façade he would have had a glimpse at a bewildered and frustrated countenance. During the few months of their growing friendship Webb had felt that Sam and Edmund would instantly like each other. However, much to his dismay and confusion the opposite had occurred. Webb had seen a mask of cold indifference fall over his friends face when introduced to Edmund. Concluding that he would have to pick apart the meeting in order to find the answer to his question, what had he said that had affected Sam so much? He could not do so now though. Quickly he turned back towards the structure that would become Northbridge's first foray into the world of equine breeding and training.

Upon reaching the house, Sam and Eric entered through the kitchen and were met with the exquisite smells baking bread. Not even looking up from her work Hanna said, "About time you two got back, I was just about ready to serve the tea. Now sit down."

They both sat at the table in the kitchen, Fanny hated the idea of being served every meal in the cold and heartless dining room. It had become an unspoken understanding that all meals were to be served in the kitchen at the ample table therein. This was met with happiness from both the Williamson's who felt that they were family in all but blood and name.

"Are Sam and Eric back yet?" called Fanny as she entered the kitchen.

"Yes, Momma. We just got back. Mr. Edmund came today," said Eric breathlessly.

"I saw the horse and rider from my study window," replied Fanny thoughtfully. She had been in her study working on newest book when for some reason unknown to her she felt compelled to look out the of her study window that faced west. When she looked up she saw a tall figure sitting on a large gray horse pass by on the lane. She saw the horse and rider turn and make their way over to the trio standing in the middle of a field facing a new stable that was being built. She remembered seeing the same man on her first full day at Northbridge and also the sensation of familiarity the first time she had seen the man. Every time thereafter when she had saw the rider from her window she had attempted to see the man's face but he was always either turned away from her or too distance to make out. Again today she could not make out his likeness but something told her that she should know or had known this man. Upon this sighting, however, she was not gripped by fear but rather a sense of excitement. Fanny quickly admonished herself. Under no circumstances could or should she seek this man out. For the safety of her son and herself she MUST not ease her curiosity by trying to discover his identity.

"Mr. Edmund asked if Sam and I could come to tea so that I could see all of his other horses," blurted out Eric quickly.

"Yes, he did, Eric," said Sam quickly. "Mrs. Graham, have you read your mail yet today?"

Fanny looked perplexed at Sam and his odd question and his manner of address before replying in the negative.

"I think you might want to do so, Madam. I think that you will find a letter that will interest you greatly," supplied Sam while looking at Fanny closely.

Fanny immediately rose and went back to her study and looked through the small pile of letters. She had one from her brother informing her he would be leaving on business and to address her letter to his London residence and a few missives from her attorney. As her eyes fell on the fourth Fanny paled visibly and quickly sat down in the chair at her desk. 'It couldn't be' her mind screamed. Hands shaking she picked up the letter with the recognizable handwriting on it and prayed that it was not the person she dreaded that it would be. Slowly she opened the letter and read with increasing horror.

September 10, 18--,

Dear Mrs. Graham,

We have not had the opportunity to meet as of yet. Upon your arrival to the area your landlord, Mr. Laurence, informed me that you requested to be left in solitude in order to overcome your grief. Let me say that my heartfelt sorrow goes out to you in your pain over the loss of your husband. I know how hard it can be to lose a loved one and pray for your ease and comfort during this time of grief.

Even though we have not met I have had the distinct pleasure to meet your son, Eric. He was with my horse master, Mr. Arthur Webb, when I happened upon them. Since the acquaintance began between my horse master, your son, and your butler I have heard from Mr. Webb of his growing friendship with Eric and Mr. Williamson during the countless meetings with my Horse Master. Intrigued by Mr. Webb's description of conversations with Eric and Mr. Williamson I made an effort to meet both Eric and Mr. Williamson. I had the chance to be introduced to your son a little over a week ago. You may know me by the name I asked Eric to call me, Edmund. Eric instead calls me Mr. Edmund, which is much to my liking. I have not as of yet had an opportunity to meet with Mr. Williamson but I look forward to that day with anticipation.

With this letter I hope to persuade you to allow Eric and Mr. Williamson to visit my estate, Northbridge Manor for a day. My home lies about four miles west of your home. From my conversations with Mr. Webb and the few that I have had with your son I have learned that Eric has a great interest and love of horses. My reason for asking you to allow Eric to visit is to be able to show him my stables and also let him watch Mr. Webb as he trains some of the horses that are in his program. There is also a young man, Colin that I employ whom I would like to introduce to Eric. Colin is not unlike Eric in regards to his feelings about horses. My desire is to introduce the two boys to each other and hopefully give them each a friend that is equally passionate about horses as they are.

I understand that you would never consider letting Eric come alone. In order to ease your mind I would ask that should you decide to allow Eric to come and visit to send Mr. Williamson. Please take time to consider your answer, Madam. I hope that I have not offended you by my boldness in this matter. I will await your answer with eager patience.

Sincerely,
Edmund Bertram

Fanny read the letter again and again. She had hoped the handwriting that she recognized as being from her past would prove to be her imagination playing an evil trick on her mind, after reading the first line her fears had been confirmed. The man who wrote that letter was the man who, almost ten years before, had in one swift blow destroyed her. The anger that had eaten away at heart flared up for a moment only to be left by coldness that she recognized as her old friend, bitterness.

Nine years before...
There was a an unnatural hush on the great house as a slight figure of a young woman made her way down the grand staircase from the upper chambers. Carrying a tray laden with empty bottles of medicine and soiled cloths she continued into the kitchens. Upon entering the subdued chatter from the cook and her workers came an abrupt halt.

The red-cheeked cook put down her knife and came around the large island in the middle of the room. Walking up to the young woman she said, "Here now, ma'am, let me take those. Will you be needin' more hot water? We've kept the pot full."

Wearily the woman wiped her brow before replying. "No. I'll come back down for more water in about an hour. I have to go see to Lady Bertram now."

Suddenly a young girl of about 15 piped up from the scuttlery "Please ma'am does the master live then?" An quite uproar ensued. The girl received dark looks from all and the cook grabbed a wooden spoon.

Fanny seeing this said softly, "Please, cook, she has done nothing wrong. To answer her question and the one that you have been wondering but did not ask, yes Sir Thomas is still alive but not strong and the doctor's do not give him much more time. Please keep him and the family in your prayers." With that Fanny turned and walked from the room, back to the sickrooms on the floors above.

Shaking herself from the memory Fanny stood up from her desk and made her way over to the large wooden chest in the corner. The wood was black with age but the iron bands that keeping the chest together were strong and secure. Fanny ran her hands along the top of the chest; her fingers unconsciously finding the gouges and scars that marred the lid.

The chest was the only thing that Fanny took with her when she left Mansfield Park that she had not arrived with. She had found the chest with a latch and key buried under discarded toys and old furniture one afternoon while hiding from her Aunt Norris in the spacious attic. After dragging it into her room she lived in fear for months that Aunt Norris would take it away from her and call her a thief in an attempt to throw her from the house. After months of worry and nightmares Fanny had finally felt safe calling the chest hers and using it as such. It quickly became the keeper of all of her hopes, dreams, and fears. The journals she had kept since arriving at Mansfield found a safe and secret place to be stored. Her first stories that her brother encouraged her write were kept in it. Edmund had been the only person in the household that Fanny had trusted enough to tell about her writings and the chest that kept them safe and secret from the prying eyes of her meddlesome aunt.

Fanny slowly drew the chain from around her neck, taking hold of the key that swung from its end. After unlocking the latch, Fanny slowly opened the lid and withdrew the journal from ten years before. With shaking hands Fanny rose and made her way across the room to a large chair by the window. Sitting down she took several deep breaths while brushing the layers of dust from the journal. Suddenly a knock came at the door and Hannah opened the door.

"Fanny, are you alright, dear?" she asked in a concerned voice.

"Hannah, I will be fine but I would like to be left undisturbed. I will come out when I have wrestled with my demons again and won. Please, do not worry for me. I will look after myself when I need food. Tell Sam and Eric that I am well."

"Fanny, are you sur..." began Hannah

"Hannah," Fanny interrupted quickly and harshly, "please just do as I ask."

"As you wish," came the soft reply followed immediately by the gentle click of the door being closed.

With tears of so many emotions she could not separate, Fanny opened the journal and began her journey through the past. The past the she had tried to smother but could not. She did not need to read the words on the pages before her. Fanny had only to close her eyes to see the scenes of years gone by flash with such brilliance, reminding her of the storm and how it raged the night she had arrived at Ridgeview House.

"Oh, yes," she thought grimly "it is time to relive the nightmare of those final days."

Not far away Edmund sat in his study moodily staring at the fire as memories came unbidden to him of the past. He slowly raised a glass of brandy. His only defense that always failed in drowning out the pain.

The old demons were back to haunt them and they were all conceived at Mansfield Park.

Chapter Seven: The Past

Nine and a half years before...

The entire second floor of the east wing had been quarantined when Tom fell ill. Aunt Norris had immediately assigned Fanny to care for Tom when the fever struck him. Her words still stung, " You must care for Tom, Fanny. Maria and Julia are far too important to risk getting sick. I'll look after my poor sister."

Fanny had glanced over at Edmund when this was said but he was in conversation with Mary Crawford and had not heard the exchange. Fanny barely knew Tom and was not a little frightened of him. He had been in school and away from home when she arrived and had only seen him on occasional holidays in the eight years she had lived with the Bertram's. However, her kind spirit and nurturing nature forced down the fear, as she became Tom's nurse.

Uncle Bertram had left the room but rarely since Tom had taken ill, three months before. The doctor had warned both Fanny and her uncle that long-term exposure put them at great risk. After giving each medicine, to take in order to hopefully ward off the infection, the doctor had told them that there was little to be done besides wait and pray. Fanny tended Tom faithfully and due to her nurturing and compassionate nature grew to care for him even though he was rarely conscious. Whenever he came out of the fever-induced stupor he would thank Fanny for her kindness and ask after her own health. There were times when he would order her to cease in her care of him because of the risk she was putting herself in. No one, save Edmund, had ever taken such notice of or concern for her.

Uncle Bertram would talk to Tom and sometimes turn the questions he asked his son on her in order to get some kind of response. Most of the time it would be a question about whether or not he was a good father to his children. Fanny would always respond kindly and gently. Thomas Bertram took notice of her attention to his son and promised that he would repay her someday for her kindness.

Fanny knew that guilt plagued the elder Bertram; he blamed himself for his son's illness. The argument that had occurred four and half months before drove Tom from the estate into the path of careless friends, who only played as such until the money ran dry. They had left Tom for dead in a dark and dank alley in London. Had not a pang of guilt struck Tom's companion Yates to go back for his friend, Tom would most likely be dead.

Another day began with Uncle Bertram coming into the sick room and watching his son and the caring young woman who tended to his needs. Once again, like many days before during his vigil, the father sat in judgment over his selfish actions that drove Tom away. Looking back now Fanny's uncle wished that he had sold the accursed sugar cane plantation. The profits could be invested into less controversial schemes that did not include enslaving other human beings. Money and greed had driven him to commit such atrocities that now they made him physically ill to even recall. Yet not even the look of horror and disgust on his eldest son's face while beholding the evil that man can enact on each other had toppled his house of cards. It had taken his twenty-five year old son almost destroying himself to shatter the illusion that he had built for himself. The disgust and shame Tom must have felt to compel him to such lengths in order to forget what his father had done must have been vast. The justification of providing well for his family and their futures through the income made on the plantation was now seen for what it was. The gossamer thin excuses of a sick and depraved old man.

Seeing the ashen, sunken face of his eldest son, Uncle Thomas vowed to begin making the necessary inquiries again to sell the plantation. He knew he could never forgive himself but he prayed that his son and the rest of his family could. Hearing the soft footsteps that he had come to cherish, he took a deep shuddering breath and looked up to see the large fathomless green eyes of the young woman who was not only caring for his son but also helping to heal his own tattered and tortured soul.

Fanny's quiet ways were a balm upon the burning shame that marred his heart. She had heard all of his confessions to Tom and the horrors that he knew about and inadvertently supported by not stopping. Her shock and dismay were never voiced but the elder Bertram could feel her sorrow wash over him whenever he entered the room. It was her silent disappointment that shamed him more than the raging judgment he inflicted on himself. Fanny had never vocally judged him and for that he was thankful even though he knew that it would be warranted. Instead she had served his son and himself faithfully and without complaint or censure. Looking into her eyes now he knew that he must tell her his plans to sell the plantation.

"You have become as a daughter to me these past months, Fanny," he began. "You above anyone in the house know the full truth of what drove Tom away and yet you do not judge me. Why?"

Fanny slowly and with trembling hands placed the bowl of herbs and water onto the bedside table before responding. He held her life in his hands. At anytime he could order her removed from Mansfield Park, and he would never to be thought ill of. That fear had kept her subservient to the Bertram's since her arrival. However, after spending so much time with her uncle, more than she ever had before, Fanny began to see a fallible man underneath the frightening implacable mold she placed him in. She could not say that she loved her uncle but after seeing him so torn apart by his son's illness she began to understand the man and as a result care for him. His question had shocked her because up until now most of his questions were more directed towards Tom. Fanny had seen the tormented expression on his face as she had entered. Even still she knew that words of comfort would only turn to ashes in her mouth and ice on his heart. Honesty and forthrightness was what he was seeking.

Looking into his grief-stricken eyes she replied, "We all judge ourselves more harshly than any other creature on this earth, Uncle Bertram. Why would I want to add to the anguish and guilt that you already feel by voicing my thoughts on something that you continually measure your worth as a man, a father, and a husband? My hope is that you see the right course of action and you take it. What direction that is, you will have to determine. But before you can start that journey you must first forgive yourself. Then and only then will you be able to move forward in your mind and body.

Tears of pain, healing, forgiveness, sorrow, joy, and love coursed down her uncle's anguished face. Sobs rose in his throat as Fanny's words lanced the wound that marred his soul. Fanny slowly approached her uncle and the prejudices that served as shields to protect her fell away and she saw a broken man. Kneeling before him, as he leaned over his knees with his head in his hands, Fanny placed her hands on his head and raised it. Smiling through her own tears she said, "It's a start, Uncle. It's a start"

The next day Thomas Bertram left for London to oversee the sale of the sugar plantation. It was with an unburdened soul and a yet a seriousness of heart that he had informed Fanny of his decision to release all the slaves on the agricultural estate so as to only gain a profit from the sale of the land and not humanity. Fanny had been shocked and overjoyed with the news and was able to send her uncle off to London with smile of encouragement and hope.

The rest of the family was blissfully oblivious to the happenings in the sick room. They received two tedious reports a day from a parlor maid who assisted Fanny when not being called upon by the greater part of the family. Three of the five family members were content with arrangement and choose to ignore the situation as best they could. Maria, Aunt Norris, and Mrs. Bertram, succeeded in their endeavor to avoid the all-encompassing weariness that accompanies worry and concern. They spent their days talking, playing cards, sleeping, or harassing the poor parlor maids.

Julia was the more concerned of her siblings and made a point to visit Fanny at least once a day before she retired to her room. Julia had worshipped Tom. He was her hero even during his wild days she had only ever seen a loving older brother. During the months of Tom's illness Julia had been forced to notice the quiet and peaceful nature that surrounded Fanny. She knew and understood the reasons for Fanny's wariness of her. Constant teasing and snide remarks from Maria, that Julia in her silence had condoned, were reason enough for Julia to not be affronted by Fanny's distant nature. Through consistent conversation Julia had been able to draw Fanny out of her protective shell and began to see an intelligent and interesting companion. Julia found that Fanny revealed more about herself when she was not talking about herself. Tom, her father, Fanny's brother, and others were common subjects. It was during one their late night conversations that Julia learned Fanny's deepest secret.

"How is Tom, cousin?" asked Julia from the doorway of Fanny's room.

Fanny wearily closed the journal on her desk but smiled and turned before responding. "His fever is still high but he woke up today for about five minutes. All I could make out was 'Get out, you fool.' He continues to urge me to leave him but I cannot."

Julia approached Fanny and took her hands, "You are a jewel, Fanny Price and your hands are like ice! Come we must get you a fire started."

"Julia, you know that I have no fire. Aunt Norris will not allow it. She never has."

Julia looked as if she had been slapped, "She has the nerve to order that you not be allowed a fire! I shall speak to father upon his return. Do you know when he is scheduled to be back?"

"Uncle Bertram should be returning at the end of this week," came the soft reply

"Well until then you shall sleep in my room so as not to catch your death from cold. Now come on, you can have Maria's old bed. Since she moved into the room down the hall from me I have found the silence quite to my liking."

Fanny glanced over quickly at Julia to see and small smile playing at her lips. Both young women broke into soft laughter at the joke. Edmund found them this way not long after.

"What's this? Laughter in the house when one is lying sick on the floor below?"

"Edmund!" cried Julia sharply. "Shame on you for censuring us when you blatantly flirt and woo Mary Crawford! Fanny has been dutifully serving OUR sick brother, whom you have not visited since Father left a two weeks ago! You are not so much better than us."

"That is enough, Julia," said Fanny quietly

"Fanny, how can you say..." but the words fell dead on Julia's tongue when she turned and saw the tears glistening in Fanny's eyes and utter desolation that was magnified by them. It was in that moment that Julia learned of Fanny Price's love for her brother Edmund. The look of complete and total loss on Fanny's face overwhelmed her. Julia had always known that Edmund and Fanny were close but she always assumed it was due to their quiet natures.

Understanding coursed through her as scenes from the past washed over her. The dinner party that had been held in Fanny's honor, a kind of coming out into society, forcibly came to mind. Fanny had been most uncomfortable all evening and Julia only saw her relax when standing near, talking too, or dancing with Edmund. She did remember seeing Henry Crawford dancing with her and making her smile and laugh during that short time but only Edmund had soothed her frayed nerves

Edmund came forward quickly. "No, Fanny. Julia is right. I was only teasing but that it was in bad taste when my own actions reveal me as a hypocrite. However, I resent the implication that I have been anything other than a gentleman when in the company of Miss Crawford, Julia. Your inference of impropriety is unacceptable

Julia glared at her brother, "I really do not care what you think is and is not acceptable. You have upset both Fanny and I with your careless and thoughtless comment. You know I had come to expect such flippancy from Maria but never from you Edmund. It is sad to see the influence that Maria and now quite obviously Mary has had on you. Are you so blind to what you are acting like? Just go now."

Edmund raised his eyebrow. "Are you quite finished then Julia? Perhaps you should deal with your own duplicity with regards to your treatment of our cousin and then you can lecture me on the hypocrisy of mine towards others."

"Stop it, both of you," came the soft voice yet edged in hardness that Edmund had never heard. Looking sharply at her he took a step towards her but halted when she raised her hand, "No, Edmund. Just go. Julia and I have much to discuss. I will meet you in the library later and we can talk. Now just leave"

Edmund looked at her closely and was shaken to see a cold barrier in her eyes that had never been there before. Something had changed between them and he was not sure what it was. He nodded once and turned his gaze to his sister and with a stony expression, turned and strode away.

After making sure Edmund was gone, Julia closed the door and turned on Fanny. "How long have you loved Edmund?" she asked without preamble.

Looking up sharply Fanny saw a hint of accusation and her anger began to rise. "Edmund has been my one true confidant and friend these last eight years that I have been in this house. It has not been until recently that you deemed me worthy enough to challenge your sister's mean spirited treatment by becoming my friend. And now you ask me how long I have loved the one person who has treated me as an equal since I arrived? Do you want the time by years, months, weeks, days, hours, or seconds, Julia? Tell me, do you really need to ask me that question?" Fanny's voice had never reached above soft murmur her words and tone cut Julia to the bone and the look in Fanny's eyes froze her blood.

Fanny had never expressed anything stronger than exhaustion in the time that Julia had known her. Being on the receiving end of her justified anger was uncomfortable. Julia had lived a life of comfort. Up until that moment she had never realized how lonely and frightened Fanny must have been during her years at Mansfield Park. She resolved in that moment to make amends with not only words but actions as well. Taking a shuddering breath Julia met the gaze of her cousin and said, "Forgive me, Fanny. You are right and I am ashamed of my actions."

Looking into the face of her privileged and beautiful cousin Fanny felt another shield of protection crumble under the weight of her new found love for her cousin. Oh, how she wanted to be able to resent Julia for the years of torment but Fanny knew that Maria's influence had directed Julia since birth. This was her first step towards independence and Fanny could not deny her the chance but she would envy the freedom Julia would gain.

For herself, Fanny knew that while some of her defenses were falling she would never be free of the fear of abandonment and loss. She had only her brother and the Bertram's left in this world after the fever took her parents and siblings. Fanny so badly wanted to love again completely and without restraint that she gave the only answer she could. "Yes, Julia. I forgive you." In that moment two young women of nineteen found their first life long friend. They embraced each other and promised to be kindred spirits for all time.

"Now go so that I may see why Edmund came to me so late in the evening," Fanny said.

"Fanny, you must get some rest. See to the matter on the morrow. Please," begged Julia.

"If I do not seek him out he will only come knocking at my door and call me into the library. We have had many a conversation late at night there. It seems to be the only time we can talk uninterrupted," Fanny replied with a wry grin.

"Aunt Norris," stated Julia flatly.

With a nod Fanny made her way to the door and waited for her cousin while saying, "We will have many more days to come for talk. I know that we shall only grow closer with the passage of time, sweet cousin." With a hug of promise and hope they separated; one with a lighter heart and the other with one that was shattering.

Fanny went in search of Edmund after she had said goodnight to Julia. Her heart was in tatters from Julia's accusations of Edmund flirting with Mary Crawford. Fanny had always known that Edmund would never realize or reciprocate her feeling for him. However, her one prayer for him these many years had been that he would find a wife worthy of him. She knew that she lacked the proper breeding and air but she hoped that he would find a woman who was all that but also kind and nurturing. Mary Crawford had the proper breeding and air but she lacked the moral foundation that any parson's wife should at least strive to have. From the moment of their first acquaintance Fanny had a sense of foreboding. She had seen how Edmund had become increasingly infatuated with Mary. It was not until the night of the dinner party held in Fanny's honor that she realized the depth of his feelings for Mary. He had revealed to her that he felt himself falling in love. Fanny had gone into a state of shock and after her dance with Edmund granted Henry Crawford a dance, something she had sworn she would never do. To her horror, she had actually enjoyed his gentle teasing and compliments.

As she entered the library her eyes fell on the two chairs that sat before the fireplace. Surprisingly they were empty, uncertain she began to turn and leave when a voice coming from the window seat made her stop.

"Fanny. You have come. I knew you would."

"I said that would. Have I ever caused you to doubt my word before, Edmund?" She asked as she made her way across the room to sit opposite him in the large window.

"No, dear friend, you have never been so bold."

"Is that what you believe lying and broken promises are, Edmund, boldness? How very disappointing. It would seem that you have changed. However, if those are attributes of boldness then perhaps I should begin taking lessons from Mary Crawford."

Edmund looked at Fanny before asking, "Why do you dislike her? You do not know her as I do and yet you continue to judge her most unfairly. You have also changed."

Sighing wearily Fanny realized then that Edmund truly did love Mary and trying to make him understand the kind of woman that Fanny had recognized on their few short meetings and conversations was impossible. She then truly understood what love was, a complete and utter sacrifice of one's own feelings for those of another, even if they are blind to the truth. Fanny also knew that she had to begin the most difficult time of her stay at Mansfield Park. She was going to have to present Edmund with a supportive attitude or risk losing him. It would be the first time in her life that she would ever deceive him and that, more than anything else, ripped out her heart. She loved him so completely that she was willing to lie to him than risk driving him away with the truth he was determined to ignore.

"You are right Edmund. I have judged her. My dislike of her is based in my love for you. I do not find her worthy enough for my wonderful cousin, who has been my only friend and confidant these last eight years. However, you see something that I do not and so I will trust you in this."

"Fanny, I love you like I love my sisters and more so at times. I only want for you to see that what is developing between Mary and I is something I want with my entire being. You remember when I told you at your coming out dinner party that I felt myself falling it love with her, well I have fallen. She is the love that I know will sustain me for all my life."

Tears of pain and utter desolation shimmered in Fanny's eyes with his words. Misunderstanding their meaning Edmund clasped her hands and continued on, "Oh my sweet Fanny. You are a treasure and I do love you like my sister. Will you try to overcome your protective nature and get to know Mary for my sake? It would bring me such joy to see the two women that I love so dearly become friends."

Wiping away her tears she smiled shakily and nodded. "Edmund, I must ask you a question though and after this I will never bring up the subject again, I promise. How does Mary feel about your chosen profession? Is she comfortable with the idea?"

Edmund considered the questions carefully before answering. These had been thoughts that had worried him as well. She showed little interest in talking about the greater points in the Bible but he took that to mean that she did not feel adequate to speaking on such topics due a lack of knowledge. However, she had expressed interest in learning more about such things so Edmund took that to mean that her ignorance was involuntary. Her desire to study writings and passages in order to be able discuss with him quashed any doubt in her lack of interest and any insincerity on her part he completely failed to notice.

"She does not know much beyond what any normal parishioner would know. However, she has expressed a desire to begin learning more and I have volunteered to help her with what commentaries to read and the like. I appreciate your concern and love you all the more for it. I know your hope is like mine in that I should have a companion who will love the Lord Jesus, the members of the parish, and the church as I do. Fanny, I know I have found that woman."

"Then I am happy for you, Edmund. May she bring you joy and love for all of your life. It is all that I can ask for. Now if only I could be so lucky," Fanny said.

Edmund grinned. "Well I believe that one day you will. There has been a certain gentleman who has been asking for you almost every day since the dinner party." Fanny laughed outright at him. "No, I am not kidding. Henry Crawford seems to be a bit interested in our own Fanny."

Fanny felt the blood in her veins become like ice and she knew that her heart actually stopped with his words. Henry Crawford was a rake and one that she would never marry. He had brought a few moments of merriment to her nerve-racking evening but she also knew that he was a consummate actor. "No, Edmund. You know how I feel about him."

"Fanny, your opinion of his is as unfair as the one that you have for his sister. I have had many conversations with him since first making his acquaintance and while he is very charming I no longer feel that he is completely insincere. He truly shows honest and open interest in you. All I ask is that you try to put aside your judgments and get to know him. You may find that you like him."

Deep down Fanny knew that Edmund hoped for a match between them. His reasoning she could not fathom but she was too exhausted to care anymore. Edmund had in one conversation been able to trample all over her dreams that she had foolishly allowed herself to dream. The silence she had kept about her love for Edmund would remain so for all of time. 'I have been so foolish for so long. I know now that I was never meant to love as a woman loves a man. If I just said something to him but no I will not torture myself with those thoughts. I knew from the beginning that it could never be and yet I let myself hope. Well no more. That is finished,' she thought to herself while staring out onto the moonlit night. All hope she had of ever making him see her, truly see her, died that night in the library window seat of Mansfield Park. Fighting back the utter desolation that threatened to overwhelm her she heard herself agreeing to try to get to know Henry.

Looking out the window again she began to speak, "The night and moon are not unlike people and what they reveal to each other about themselves. Moonlight, even at its brightest can only reveal so much and only in silvery gray, never in rich color but rather muted and soft. Shadows abound in everyone and like the shadows of night many are never illuminated because the moon has not the power. There are degrees of illumination with the moon, phases. We, as humans, can decide how much to show another and how much to hide just like the moon. People often only reveal what they wish too and only in a certain light, while concealing the rest of themselves in the safety of the shadows of their own night. Dreams, fears, sins, hopes, failures, anger, hate, bitterness, and love live in those shadows and we all hide them from others and even sometimes ourselves. At the same time sunlight conceals very little. There are no phases to the sun. Everything is in harsh full color, not the soft and inviting silvery gray of the moon. I believe that people only allow the sunlight to shine in them when they trust and love another enough to know that what that person will see in the brightness of the sun will not drive them away but only cause a great bond to be wrought."

There was a long silence that followed and Fanny broke it. "My hope for you Edmund is that both you and Mary love each other enough to show yourselves to each other fully and completely with the sunlight that I speak of. Do you understand what I am talking about?"

"No, Fanny I do not but your word picture is thought provoking and I know I will think on it in the future."

"You will know of what I speak of someday, Edmund. You will know," Fanny said cryptically. Turning suddenly away from the window she smiled softly at the love of her life that would never be and said, "I must get some rest, Edmund. I am going to take to heart what we have spoken of. Goodnight."

"Sleep well cousin."

Edmund remained in the library for an unknown amount of time after Fanny left. Her final words to him on how individuals revealed themselves to each puzzled him. He knew there was some hidden meaning in what she said. Fanny often liked leaving him with little riddles and puzzles to solve. It was something that endeared her to him and also frustrated him. Why could she just not come out and say what she wanted to say?

He went over the analogy in his mind again and again. He knew it did not relate to their relationship because they were completely and totally open with each other and it could not mean his relationship with Mary because they had just spoken about that. Perhaps it dealt with his father. Was there something that his father was hiding from him about Tom's condition? 'That must be it,' he thought triumphantly. 'I will speak with Father about it when he returns from town.'

'If only he had believed me then,' thought Fanny as she remembered that conversation with Edmund. 'If only he hadn't been so blinded. If only he had loved me.' It was after two years of marriage to Henry Crawford that her husband had finally told Fanny what Mary and his scheme had been. The siblings only ever saw Fanny and Edmund as objects for their use. Looking back now Fanny realized that her impending motherhood had pierced Henry's conscience and that he did not want his son born into deception, a place that he had lived for decades. 'If only my love for Edmund had not consumed me and created the hate that burns in my soul. Why could it not have just died? Why must this happen now? Oh God, why must I relive this hellish past?'

As it turned out Fanny was not alone in her remembrances of that time.

The fire flickered across the face of a man lost in thought. Memories of the past were best left there, however, this was not one of those nights. Since his argument and confession to James, Edmund had been able to leave the thoughts of former days in the recesses of his mind. Sighing he took a slow drink of brandy and hoped that he could make it through the night without shattering the glass in his anger.

Looking out the window and seeing the illuminated by the soft glow he was reminded of a conversation with Fanny so many years before about the moon and shadows and how people are like them. Irony had indeed visited him with her brutal wares. He did not know what Fanny had meant that night in library at Mansfield Park but now he did. However, what hurt more was the fact that Fanny did not trust him enough to reveal her true thoughts to him. 'Why did she have to speak in riddles? If only she had spoken plainly years of torment could have been avoided.' Bitterness and not a little anger flashed in his heart against Fanny but guilt followed soon afterwards. Fanny was blameless. The ones who deserved all the anger, wrath, and bitterness one man could create were Mary Crawford and her "brother."

Cursing Edmund rose from his chair and strode over to one the bookshelves. His eyes roamed over the titles until he saw the volume he was seeking. Taking the worn book off the shelf he looked at the title The Great Illusion by Frederick Mason. 'That was what my whole marriage and image of Mary turned out to be, a shadow of reality,' he thought bitterly. Opening the front cover he took some worn pieces of paper. Closing the book, he put back on the shelf and walked over and collapsed into his chair. Pouring a full glass of brandy he waited for the rage to wash over him, as it had so many times before. It did not come. Instead a weariness that he had never experienced settled onto his shoulders. This was almost a welcome relief after years of searing anger.

Looking down at the worn folded pieces of paper he did not need to open it to know what was written on them. He remembered the day the letter had arrived at Northbridge. It was a few months after he had arrived and during the time when he was doing his best to work himself into an early grave. Gazing deeply back into the fire he let the memories of the letter and what he learned take him down a path full of shadows into the creator of all the torment, Mary. How she saw herself, her childhood, Henry, and his family were all topics she wrote of in her letter. He knew why she sent it. To show him that even though he had fled to the north after her betrayal, she was still victorious. Fanny was lost to him, forever.

A colder heart had never beat in a woman until Mary Crawford. To deceive was never questioned but something she craved, as the storm-tossed sea desires to consume the vessels that sail across her. The sea was a body that Mary understood and admired in that she was the embodiment of it. Calm and tranquil but underneath she was a myriad of currents, mountains, unfathomable abyss', and mystery.

The death of her parents left her at the mercy of relatives; however, her beauty and beguiling nature even at the young age of nine ensured her a place within the ranks of the Crawford family. Raised in comfort by her aunt and uncle, Mary never wanted for anything of necessity. However, she was never content with what had been given to her, the desire for more continually throbbed in her heart.

By the time she was sixteen boredom with children's toys drove her to find amusement in the ridiculing and manipulation of others. Her aunt and uncle were constant victims to her schemes but they only saw her a beautiful child to be cherished. Mary was careful to never reveal her vicious nature by shrouding herself in the countenance of innocence.

It was in this pursuit of entertainment at the expense of others that she discovered a kindred spirit in her own family. A distant cousin, of questionable parentage, came to live with Mary's aunt and uncle. Henry was seventeen that summer and had the looks that had and would cause many women to forget everything but their own natural urges and desires.

It was an immediate bond that could only be described as love. The love they felt for the other was less physical and more cerebral. In each other they found the challenge that each had longed for. Someone who understood what elements made the other who and what they were.

During that first summer Henry showed Mary the benefits and pleasure of physical love but more than that he nurtured her mind with truth of the world. He taught her that there are no true innocents in the world, only ignorance. Exploiting it for personal gain is no worse than the pretension of innocence and naiveté that so many of the world cloaked themselves in.

Henry and Mary's devotion to the other was solidified by their deep seeded desire to manipulate those around them to commit acts that went against everything that their victims held dear. Deep down both of them justified their actions by believing that had their victim been truly dedicated to their own beliefs then no one person, argument, or temptation could lead them astray.

The mind games that they played in the beginning were simple yet doubly cruel. Mary convinced a young man that worked in the stables that she loved him. His fiancée was an assistant to the cook and was so heartbroken over his betrayal that she left the estate and was never found. Mary quickly ended the game in triumph by telling the young man of her scheme. She sneered at his professed love for her and his lost fiancée calling it cheap and tawdry. The man hung himself a month later in the barn.

Henry played an equally malicious game on Mary's tormented governess. The woman had remained longer than any other governess previously. The mental torture that Mary had rained down on all of her governess' had not as yet broken the woman but she was vulnerable. It vexed Mary greatly that the woman had lasted two years but she knew that if Henry could break her then he was a true companion for life, as the governess was an unflappable individual. Mary grudgingly admitted a level of respect for the woman.

The success and pleasure derived from watching and causing the breakdown of the governess was a memory that both recalled from time to time. Henry drove the middle- aged woman to believe that their uncle was harboring a secret love for her, which was why she had remained longer than any of those before her. Henry became her confidant and she thought friend. Through the months he discovered her every dream and desire and encouraged her own growing infatuation with his uncle with tales of conversations, where the older man would consistently mention the lonely governess and wonder what her thoughts would be on a subject. The climax of the game came when the governess driven to uncontrollable passion and love approached their appalled uncle professing her undying love for him. She was sacked and was packed up and leaving the estate before afternoon tea. So shocked by the actions of the governess, Henry and Mary's aunt and uncle promised to not have another governess but would rather employ a tutor that would come twice a week.

Rest assured, the two cousins continued torturing the staff and eventually their neighbors. So incredibly adept at their intrigues the pair was never implicated.

Through the years the cousins targeted and conquered counts in France, mistresses of royalty, princes' in Russia, countesses in Austria, dukes in Germany, bishops and even a would-be pope in Italy. Blessed with the appearance of youth well into their early thirties, the pair, tiring of the ease of the game on the continent turned their sites back on their beloved country. The aunt and uncle who had loved them both so faithfully left the cousins in relative financial comfort upon their deaths. However, the amount left to them was trivial compared the vast fortune the pair had amassed from their victims over the years.

Upon their return to England, Mary and Henry discovered that a home had been left to the both of them in -shire. The house was unknown to them and as a result both Henry and Mary decided that a visit was necessary. The piece of property was less than desirable but what the neighborhood offered was irresistible, a family full of prospects. The introduction to the Bertram's was for the pair as opulent and delectable as a finely made French pastry just waiting to be devoured. Mary and Henry fell into a practiced routine by presenting themselves as brother and sister who had recently lost their beloved aunt and uncle.

The "brother" and "sister" were welcomed, and they actually enjoyed the company of the Bertram's with their eagerness to entertain new society. The deceitful pair realized that this transparent family could be their greatest triumph. Bored with going after money and riches they determined that they completely and utterly destroy the family by fracturing the relationships within. The pair, both in their thirties, were also at the point where they were ready to settle down. Weary of the world, they wanted to escape from the trappings and temptations of unsuspecting victims in society. It was time to retire from the game and create a world that they could both live and comfortably continue to destroy in. The Bertram's proved to be the perfect fit.

It was decided that Henry would seduce Maria causing her to become unhappy with her chosen, Mr. Rushworth, before he was even a husband. At the same time Henry would gain the attention of the younger sister, Julia and create jealousy between the sisters. Meanwhile, Mary would begin her own slow corruption on Maria. Young and impressionable, Maria was a girl ruled by passions. Mary saw an eager pupil underneath the surface and she was only too right. Edmund was the easy target, in that he would be made to fall in love with Mary.

The one mystery in the family proved to be Fanny. In all of their years of intrigues and games, the pair had never come across one who was so completely distant. She was kind but not warm. Her quiet and closed nature proved to be the greatest challenge to the pair. However, it was Fanny's silent disapproval and distrust of the "siblings" that truly caused them to want to hurt her deeply.

After years of observing people, Mary and Henry eventually realized that Fanny's weakness was in her love for Edmund. They also discovered that Edmund did love Fanny as a man loves a woman but he was too blind to realize it, which made Mary's seduction that much easier to accomplish. Edmund's lack of understanding about himself and his feelings for Fanny made him an easy mark for Mary. He was ready to fall in love and was too blind to see that his public adoration for Mary was a mockery of his true and pure love for Fanny.

'Irony is a wicked and sardonic mistress,' Edmund thought to himself. Blinking quickly at the moisture that clouded his vision, he looked down at the letter that Mary had sent him not long after his arrival at Northbridge. Opening it to the last page he read the words that were burned into his soul.

"You were a fool to believe that I could love you, a mere clergyman. You were my favorite victim, Edmund, because you denied yourself the love you felt for your dear sweet cousin and instead deceived yourself into believing that you loved me. It was all there for you to grasp and you, only you, allowed it to slip away. She loved you. Did you know that? Henry and I saw it within a fortnight but you were so comfortable with her being the quiet shadow and always at your side when you needed her that you willfully ignored the truth.

This is my final triumph, Edmund. She loved you then but what she felt for you has met its fate, death. How do I know this? Ask yourself this, dear husband, do you think that Fanny could have a child with a man she did not love?

Did you not know? Their child is almost two years old now.

Dear, sweet, trusting, foolish Edmund, how I wish I could see the look on your face as you realize what you threw away when you did not recognize the love you felt for her then. You could have been a father. Now all you have is the acidic taste of love's ashes to forever remind you of what you had and lost."

Edmund knew of bitterness. He lived with it everyday. It was a grasping and choking of the soul that could never be banished. With shaking hands he put down the tumbler full of brandy down on the table and wearily rose. Walking over to the bookcase he returned the letter to its place. Turning he looked out the window and as the soft silvery light of the moon washed over him he began to weep as memories of Fanny crashed into his conscious. "I love her," he whispered brokenly, "God, forgive me, she loved me."

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