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Part 18 Posted on Sunday, 20 June 1999
Melissa, Tim, Henry, and the others all noticed Yates, but they resumed conversing as if he had never announced anything. Even Edmund and Fanny, quietly walking in after the man, found seats by the window to comment on the brightness of the day.
Mr. Yates cleared his throat and stood upon a footstool for elevation, though he was not a short man.
"As the co-manager of the Mansfield theatricals, I believe that we should begin our first rehearsal." By now his audience had stopped talking, and only looked at each other strangely. The man in his bright red coat and pants, wildly waving his arm in the air, was quite a sight, though they really should have been already used to it.
"Where will we practice?" asked Julia. "There is no stage yet in my father's room for us to act upon." Still angry about Henry's lack of attention towards her, Julia was inclined to be difficult. "Tom, were not you to make those arrangements?"
Tim smiled rather foolishly. "Ah, yes--Jackson. You know, I forgot to talk to him . . ."
"Oh!" cried Yates, "I have already taken care of all that. Jackson is busy today on the gardens, but he will take time off of them tomorrow to build our set."
Edmund frowned. "You talked to our carpenter?"
"Yes, but no need to worry. I gave Mr. Jackson specific, detailed plans--there will be nothing missing in our little stage, I assure you." He said it quickly, ignoring the concern that spread across Edmund's face, and continued: "As for now, we shall be able to act quite nicely in the empty room. It will not be professional, and I am all for minute details, but I do not think that our acting will be hurt by one rehearsal in an ordinary room."
No one much approved of Yates' way of thinking, but they decided to go along with him, as determined as he was. They were to start at the beginning--at the very first scene.
"We have an Agatha," said Mr. Yates, "but who is to be the Landlord? Tom cannot, for the butler comes in so shortly afterwards, and I--I do not think I would like such a part. Who is to act Landlord?"
"You can discuss that some other time," said Maria, "for I do not want to hear it." She had suddenly grown glum upon seeing Julia wrap a shawl around her head and go to the front of the room to take her place. Henry's following the actress only made Maria feel worse; her brows lowered and she stuck out her lower lip with the poutiness of a child. "Indeed, I shall not stay for long--I do not care to watch the first act: it is so long, so drawn out. It is certainly the worst part of the play. Why do we not start on the second act now, so I can go back upstairs afterwards?"
Mr. Yates did not look very pleased, but he finally consented and called the actors to their places.
"Good luck, Tim!" Melissa whispered with a smile. Tim only laughed.
Soon Edmund walked over to Melissa, taking Tim's chair with a half smile. She did not mind the chance to talk with him, but Melissa was disappointed in not being able to watch the acting as closely as she would have liked to.
"Are you enjoying yourself, Miss Crawford?"
"Oh, about as much as it is possible to enjoy such a vulgar activity, I suppose. Are you still so much against this, Mr. Bertram? You seem to be enjoying yourself now, if I may say so, sir."
"I do?" asked Edmund, rather alarmed. He composed himself and averted her glance to look at the rehearsing. "I would not say that I am quite enjoying myself, but I have decided not to ruin everyone else's time, for some people, you know," he said in a lower tone, "actually like to act."
Melissa looked at him with surprise, then followed his gaze to the distressed 'Frederick.' "Yes," she answered, "and some people do it rather well."
Edmund decided to take the opportunity to watch the acting and keep silent, and Melissa was not at all made upset by his decision.
The acting was much to her taste, and as she loved comedy, she could not help loving the acting before her.
Mr. Yates was all she expected of him--loud, moanful, and a high-flown style that only made the humorous funnier. His ranting was capital, and Melissa could only feel that the loss to the acting world in not having Mr. Yates on the stage was terrific--he was too comedic for expression.
Tim . . . well, Tim was just good. His acting fit the part of Anhalt well--simple, plain, but not lacking in precision or sympathy. He worked well against the showy Baron, and seemed to enter genuinely into his concerns. When he delivered lines as Verdun, the rhyming butler, his dramatics could only have been surpassed by the Baron's. He was perfectly comedic, and caused everyone in the room (with the exception of Mr. Yates) to laugh at least once.
And Henry--Melissa could fully understand how Fanny could be fascinated with his acting against her will. He was compelling--his tone was good, his voice was strong, his instinct excellent. He had the exact knack of making this thinly drawn character a full person with emotion and a will of his own. He invested a dignity into Frederick, and he held the whole room spell-bound.
Melissa glanced over at Fanny, and smiled to see her so enthralled. She was watching the acting closely, and smiling and frowning appropriately as action occurred, obviously delighted by the show. Her innocent enjoyment delighted Melissa almost as much as the actual acting, and she glanced over several times to watch Fanny's reactions.
However, after a couple of scenes, Mr. Yates called out, "Miss Crawford! It is your scene!" and she was obliged to tread the boards in the guise of Amelia. If acting after such displays of talent was not imposing enough for her, Melissa had the added blow of hardly ever having acted before. Small parts in school productions and imitations were all she had of experience, and these all took place in a modern setting--not nearly so dramatic as this was. She smiled nervously at Yates as she sat opposite him.
But it was not so difficult. Amelia was no demanding part to play, and amusedly Melissa realized the very similarities between Amelia and herself.
In fact she was diverted throughout much of her time in the spotlight. The only thing funnier than watching Yates act was acting with him. Being personally ranted at, seeing the fiery eyes piercing her own amused Melissa and made her interrupt some of her lines with giggles. For most of the scene, she forgot her audience, but when she had to say that she dreamt of Anhalt--well, then she glanced at Tim. His casual smile prompted her to continue on, but even in character, it felt strange to say such things.
Her audience received her well after her practicing; they cordially smiled, and even Maria and Julia congratulated her. Henry grinned at this.
"Well of course she is good; did you expect anything less than wonderful from my sister?"
Melissa smiled and turned her face in mock embarrassment. Seeing Edmund's gaze upon her face disconcerted her a little, and she addressed him, forcing gaiety into her tones.
"How was I, Mr. Bertram? Now please be honest--I am sure that you will not lie to me. Was I so very bad?"
Edmund's brow lowered in confusion. "Bad? No, not at all. Indeed, Miss Crawford, I look forward to acting with you."
"And I with you," she said with a smile and a modest bow of her head before she made her way to her chair by Tim.
"And I wasn't joking!" whispered she to Tim; "I really will enjoy acting with Edmund. Can you imagine his Count Cassel?"
Tim laughed. "Yes; you probably wish that all your scenes could be amusing ones. If only Anhalt had a little humor to him--it might take away some of the pressure."
"Ah, we shouldn't feel pressure--we're friends, after all. Nothing at all to worry about." She smiled at him to convince him, but when watching more of the rehearsing, she was not really so sure that she was quite convinced herself.
Soon, the third act began with the dramatic scene between the Baron, Frederick, and the Count.
Edmund was perfectly foppish as the silly Count and Melissa laughed, and turned to look at Fanny at one point--her face Melissa fancied to be pale, and her eyes were full of a deep sorrow that made Melissa uncomfortable, and drew her to turn around.
She knew that Fanny was unhappy to see Edmund making a fool of himself--in the logic of Mansfield, becoming a fool through his impersonation of such a person. She felt her mouth grow a little dry, and then thought about her scene coming up with Tim.
She would become the girl in love with Tim, and he would act the part of her lover. The thought of saying those words to Tim was terrifying at best, and she thought about the exact phrases that she would have to look Tim straight in the eye and say. To say such things to any other man in the room would be merely amusing--to say them to Tim would be horrific. She began to look about, trying to think of an escape. She realized that she could not say such things to him, not now, not in front of the catty glances of Julia and Maria, or the smirks of Henry, or the stare of Edmund Bertram.
Luckily, she was favored by Fate. Maria Bertram rose from her seat, her hand to her head.
"Excuse me, but I am feeling unwell," she said painfully, and turned to walk away.
Of course, this interrupted the rehearsal. Henry and Julia both rose to find a little wine and to open windows, to beg her to gently relax on the sofa, which quickly ended the rehearsal. Melissa gratefully smiled on Maria, for once thankful for the girl's inability to fade into the background. She turned her head to sneak a glance at Tim, but his face was turned away. Quietly she rose from her seat, and walked from the room, hopefully unobserved. The hall doors stood invitingly halfway opened, and Melissa quietly went through them, sighing when alone.
She could not understand herself; why was she so nervous? How come Tim was the only man she feared to rehearse with? She put her hand to her warm forehead with a smile.
"I am foolish," she whispered to herself.
When she lifted her eyes, she started when she saw Tim, himself, coming down the hall. Without noticing Melissa's absence, he had walked out another door, also seeking a way out. His face pinkened when he realized that he was not alone. They both stared at each other, their eyes trying to explain their situation.
Tim was the first to speak.
"I didn't like to wait," he said, trying to smile. "As funny as it was, watching Maria play the drama queen couldn't take my mind off my nerves. Isn't it strange that I should grow so nervous about acting?"
"Then are you used to acting?"
"No," Tim laughed, "--does it seem like I am? I don't think I've ever acted in my life--seriously, I mean."
"But you seemed comfortable when you acted before," said Melissa.
"As the rhyming butler? Verdun was easy enough to act. I guess it depends upon the part. You know, for such a silly play, Lovers' Vows has hard enough parts to act."
"Yes, I know," agreed Melissa. So Tim was thinking about it too! "And I think that Mrs. Inchbald was even more demanding of the actresses."
Tim laughed. "Are you talking of Amelia? I don't know how you will ever manage to say such things!"
"That's what I was thinking. Can you imagine? "Come, then, teach it me," and "A very proper subject from the man who has taught me love, and I accept the proposal." It's impossible! I know I will never be able to say it in front of everyone."
"Well, it will not be so very easy for me, you know," Tim said quietly. "I know," he continued after a moment, "--why don't we practice by ourselves first? It will be much better than saying those lines for the first time in front of a crowd."
Melissa reluctantly agreed, and they walked out to the gardens, being careful not to walk in front of the windows of the theatre room. Glancing up at the sky, Melissa saw that the day had grown to be very bright, giving the garden a romantic atmosphere.
"Isn't there anywhere else to act?" she asked uneasily. "The stable chairs, for instance . . . ?"
"Melissa!" laughed Tim. "A stable? No; a garden is better for the scene. We have to make it as like as possible--we can imagine we really are Anhalt and Amelia. It will lessen the pressure."
Melissa smiled and opened her book. She began to read at the soliloquy in scene II of the third act. The blush came naturally when Anhalt entered, finding Amelia alone, as Melissa had blushed upon Tim's finding her. But it was not so hard at first. No, the real uneasiness did not come until Amelia mentioned the heart. Then Melissa's voice wavered as much as Amelia's would have, and Tim was not at ease either.
Perhaps the hardest part came along when Amelia had to say "Oh no! I am in love."
"'Are in love!'" read Tim. '"And with the Count?"'
"'I wish I was."'
"'Why so?"'
"'Because he would, perhaps, love me again."'
"'Who is there that would not?"'
"'Would you?"' Melissa read, lifting her eyes inquiringly.
"'I--I--me--I--I am out of the question."'
"'No; you are the very person to whom I have put the question."' By now, Melissa had acquired the boldness the part required, acting as Amelia so well that Tim was quite put off his guard. His face reddened, he felt himself grow hot, and he cut off the reading with a pause.
"I--I think that we have practiced enough," he stammered. He avoided looking at Melissa's doe-eyed glance by turning his head, recklessly plucking the petals from one of Lady Bertram's prized yellow roses. "Indeed, if we acted any more convincingly . . ." but he trailed off into thought.
Melissa, once again uneasy, closed up her book before following Tim into the house.
Once she returned, she had the questionable delight of learning that another public rehearsal would not be attempted until later, after the stage was built and everyone had a chance to read their lines more. At least one person in the company felt the loss of the practice . . .
"Indeed, Miss Crawford," declared Mr. Yates sadly, "I am sure you will miss these rehearsals as much as I will. Though I know the Baron well, it is quite a delight to act with you. You are very good, although admittedly you could use improvement. Your immediate feel for the character is great, although I feel your overall portrayal lacks a something . . ." His voice trailed off as he mentally searched for the proper word.
"Why, I thank you, Mr. Yates. I am always glad to know what I need to work on as an actress--for I am not quite the actor you are."
Yates smiled with simple pride at this compliment, then suddenly snapped his fingers. "Feeling!" he moaned.
"Feeling?" she repeated, slightly confused.
"Your acting was good, but it lacked a certain feeling. The girl loves this Anhalt (oddly enough) and cannot stand the Count. Amelia is light-hearted, but feels deeply. Her woe quite leaps of the page, and must be expressed." He pulled a face, and then looked back at her. "Woe, you see?"
"Certainly . . . woe," she replied, copying the face and with a smile, making her exit from the young man's company.
Though she had always been a fan of Yates' when reading Mansfield Park, Melissa had never imagined him to be so amusing. Really, sometimes it could be frightening, and as much as she liked the Hon. John Yates, Melissa found that she liked him most when she was away from him, when she could remember the clothes he wore and the things he said that day and laugh to her heart's content without fear of offending the rather self-absorbed gentleman.
Later that day when she was helping Mrs. Grant hang up the laundry on the line, Yates came to her head again. She had not thought of him since leaving the Park--no, other things were in her mind at the moment--but Mrs. Grant happened to conjure the fop back to Melissa's brain with a question.
"And how is this Mr. Yates that is staying at the Park?" the woman asked interestedly.
"Yates? Oh, delightful. Why?--did Henry mention him to you?"
Mrs. Grant shrugged. "Yes; he just told me a name when I asked who was visiting Mansfield Park--nothing more. Our brother never goes into detail about anything."
Melissa laughed. "Are not all men that way? Perhaps it is best that Henry does not tell you of all the happenings at Mansfield Park." Mrs. Grant eyed her with curiosity, to which Melissa only returned with a shake of her head. "But of Yates--what do you wish to know about him?"
"Well, the general things, I suppose: what kind of man is he? what does he look like? how much does he have a year?"
"Oh, only the general things?" Melissa laughed. "To speak truth, I have not heard him talk about anything other than acting, but at that he has a good deal of feeling, I would say. He seems fairly agreeable to women--not so much a flirt as our dear brother, but amiable."
"And his looks?"
Drawing from her mental images of Yates, Melissa described the man faithfully, not omitting a single pink cravat or jeweled shoe. His hair she perhaps elaborated on, but then who would not be interested in a man with les cheveux magnifique? Mrs. Grant, perhaps, was not as enthusiastic about Mr. Yates' style, for her brows lowered in disappointment. Still, she wished Melissa to go on, applying to her with a nod.
"Where are we now?" Melissa asked. "Ah, his purse. I do not know his fortune. He has not much talked about his house and family--indeed, it almost appears that he lives off people. But his ornaments must cost a great deal."
"Yes, yes," said Mrs. Grant rather impatiently, "but he does not seem like a very good sort of man at all. I admit that I had hopes . . . but no matter--he does not seem to be a very good sort of man for you at all," she repeated. Melissa could barely restrain herself from laughing, though it seemed that the young man's ineligibility really distressed the woman. Mrs. Grant soon, however, brightened up.
"There is always Mr. Tom Bertram," she said with a smile. "Dearest Mary, how are you getting on with Mr. Bertram?"
"Mr. Bertram is always an agreeable host. He is a very well spoken young man."
Mrs. Grant pouted. "Dear Mary, that is hardly illuminating! What else? Has he proposed?"
Melissa laughed. "My dear sister--yet? Mr. Bertram is my friend, nothing else!"
Mrs. Grant smiled knowingly. "I am not so sure, my dear, especially when I am expressly invited by the head of the house to come to dinner tonight!" She laughed with a smile. "Perhaps he plans to ask for my permission!"
Melissa laughed. "Well! It seems there is nothing else to be said! Mr. Bertram will propose, and I shall accept--as it is your wish, dear sister."
"Oh! I should like it above all things," said Mrs. Grant with a nod.
"What should you like, sister? I would do anything in my power to give it to you," said a voice dotingly. A sheet lifted, and there appeared Henry.
"I am sorry, Henry--only I can give Mrs. Grant what she would like above all things."
"What do you mean?" asked Henry in mock surprise. "I think I should be able to do as much for our dear sister!"
"Well!" said Melissa with a smile, "then, my dear sister, I suppose you should direct Mr. Bertram and his favors over to my brother tonight." As Mrs. Grant laughed, Melissa turned to illuminate her brother's understanding. "My sister cherishes high hopes that Mr. Bertram means to propose to me tonight."
Henry looked shocked. "What, and he has not said anything to me? I suppose the time for asking his intentions is long past."
"I said that she cherishes hopes. I would suppose Mr. Yates just as likely to propose to me as Mr. Bertram."
Henry's nose wrinkled. "My dear Mary, you could not seriously consider that, could you? I dare say that I can appreciate folly as much as the next man, but that great of a concentration of folly is too dangerous to be near for extended periods of time."
Melissa laughed. "I quite agree. I find Mr. Yates is best appreciated at a distance, when one is free to laugh without fear. To marry Mr. Yates would surely provide all the entertainment I should ever need for three lifetimes, yet it would be highly unsatisfactory as I never could express my mirth about him."
Henry smiled primly. "Also, you would have the problem of perhaps being blinded by his brilliance."
Melissa nodded enthusiastically, her hand covering her mouth as she attempted to hold back her laughter. Henry shot her a reproving look, making Melissa lose her restraint and start laughing heartily.
Mrs. Grant frowned. "Dear brother, I enjoy your company, but if you are out here to amuse Mary, can you please help me out as well?" In true military fashion, she grabbed a dress from the basket and threw it to him.
Henry caught it and preceded to hang it up with a grin. "I am delighted to, Mrs. Grant. Did I not already say that I would do anything for you?"
"Well then please stop discussing this Mr. Yates. I have done with him, you know. Henry, what is your opinion of the eldest Bertram son?"
"Tom Bertram? What is there to say about him? He never speaks to me much," he replied, glancing at Melissa.
Mrs. Grant shook her head. "Well, I do not see how you would benefit from having a talkative brother-in-law, Henry. What else is there? Is he amiable?"
"You should ask Mary that," he said with a smile.
Melissa blushed. "She already has asked me everything about him," she whispered to him from across the line. "It is your turn, dear brother."
Mrs. Grant still looked at Henry inquiringly. "What else is there to know about him?" he asked with a shrug. "Did not you have all his marriageable qualities memorized before we arrived so that you could tell Mary about him? You shall see him tonight," he laughed.
"Yes," broke in Melissa, "and perhaps you will see him propose to me!" Mrs. Grant only sighed and carried off the empty basket.
Henry then offered his sister his arm as they followed Mrs. Grant into the house at a slower pace. "Should I make an effort to know Mr. Bertram better, Mary?" asked Henry innocently.
"Henry, I am really not sure why you should ask me this question. If you mean to propose to Maria Bertram, I should suppose you might want to know the young man better, but it would be Sir Thomas Bertram whom it would be best to apply to--he is her father, after all."
Henry smiled wryly at this. "If you are determined not to be serious . . . but believe me, Mary--Rushworth may keep his sweet lass of Mansfield Park. When I shall take a wife, I should not pick such a one as her."
"And what kind of such a one will you take?"
Henry smiled. "Not such a one as I know you hope for me to espouse."
Melissa laughed. "Then, I suppose, you will pick a mild middle?"
"Perhaps . . ." he mused. "'Rich she shall be, that's certain; wise, or I'll none; virtuous, or I'll never cheapen her; fair, or I'll never look on her; mild, or come not near me; noble, or not I for an angel; of good discourse, an excellent musician, and her hair shall be of what color it please God.'"
Melissa laughed. "What a wonderful list! I wish you luck in obtaining it. If I ever see such a one, I shall give her your address without delay."
He inclined his head towards her. "Thank you, dearest Mary."
Part 19 Once Mrs. Grant finished making dinner for the doctor, who was to dine at home (no Mansfield victuals for him after the scantiness of food at the ball), they took the barouche over to Mansfield. As always, they were happily greeted by all, but perhaps the most attentive in his welcome was Edmund Bertram. Melissa was shocked to see him wearing blue and yellow striped trousers, complete with gold chain. A stiff pink jacket did not seem to inhibit him as he waved his arms gaily when he saw her.
"Mr. Bertram," she said once she managed to catch her breath. "You look very . . . festive today, sir."
Edmund smiled broadly. "Festive, yes, my dear Miss Crawford." He took her hand and bowed with a ballet-like movement of his leg. "If I'm festive it is because I am glad to see you. Are you surprised to see such a country man dressed up in London fashions?"
"I must admit I am, yes, but they do look rather well on you." She spoke in a low voice so as to detract any notice, though Henry was almost laughing as he stood by Maria, and Mrs. Grant stared with disgust. Certainly Melissa would have laughed had she not spotted Fanny, quietly sitting in a corner chair.
"Why do we not go sit by your cousin, Mr. Bertram?" Melissa asked. "Indeed, she is entitled to view you in your splendor as well."
Edmund nearly blushed. "I thank you, Miss Crawford. You are a kind young lady--I must admit that I never used to like London manners, but now--but you are . . ." Melissa did not let him finish. She had never believed Edmund capable of creating a scene (at least before the dancing), but she realized that the man was well on his way to acting the Jos Sedley at Vauxhall, and though Becky Sharp was able to put up with it in the book, Melissa knew that the heroine had not her brother and sister there to witness the scene. So with a smile, Melissa managed to quiet Edmund and to encourage him to follow her to Fanny's chair.
"Miss Price! How well you look tonight! and how comfortable you look in this chair! May I join you in observing our company? We may look at everyone and say many catty things, if you should like," said Melissa with a smile. Fanny inclined her head, and Melissa took a seat next to her.
"Miss Price, what think you of Mr. Bertram's outfit? Is it not . . . festive?" she asked.
Fanny blushed slightly. "It is very magnificent, to be sure."
Edmund smiled. "Thank you, Fanny."
"But not quite as magnificent as Mr. Yates," said Melissa, looking over at the man himself. His outfit seemed to have a floral theme to it--while his pantaloons were a mild creme color, his waistcoat was made of a flowered material with brightly colored tulips, daisies, roses, violets, and various other bits of flora stitched into the brocade. His coat was a delicious lavender color, and he had pinned some scarlet poppies and columbines to it.
"Indeed," said Fanny, with a secretive smile on her face.
"Whatever are you thinking, Miss Price?" asked Melissa, curious.
"Well, Miss Crawford, in our library there are several books on flora, and one of the books has a chapter about the meaning of flowers . . . both scarlet poppies and columbines are mentioned . . ." She began to laugh quietly.
Melissa raised her eyebrow. "Now, what do they mean?"
"A scarlet poppy means 'extravagance, fantastic,' and columbine means 'folly.'"
Edmund and Melissa laughed loudly. "No!--you must be quizzing me, Miss Price!" said she. A shake of the head assured her the truth was being told.
"Well, I never knew Mr. Yates was so perceptive," said Melissa, which caused the other two to laugh all the more.
Tim had come down in time to hear them laughing and quickly went over to their group. Henry Crawford had cast a curious look at their cozy company and seemed inclined to follow his example, but Maria determinedly interrupted his train of thought.
"Mr. Crawford, are you paying attention? Whatever can you be thinking?"
He looked back at her absent-mindedly. "I was merely wondering whatever can be amusing your family and my sister so." He watched as Mary whispered into Tom Bertram's ear, and observed his loud shout of laughter as he took a seat on the couch next to Mary, who seemed quite happy to have him near.
Henry smiled at the scene. He had previously taken only a minor interest in her affairs as he had been so busy trying to keep both Bertram sisters interested and charming, but now he felt his curiosity increase when he say with what easy manners the two joked and talked with each other, to the quiet chagrin of the Boy sitting next to them. He began to wonder if he should begin to pay attention to that couple--if Mary really meant to marry him . . . It appeared to be possible.
Maria looked over, trying to think what could be interesting the man that interested her. Her jealous gaze alighted upon her cousin, who seemed to be participating in the joy. Her face was blushed and she was merrily laughing, looking greatly to advantage.
"They do seem quite amused," said Maria, "but knowing both Tom and Edmund as I do, I would not be surprised should they be talking about something quite tiresome. Tom has grown so intolerably boring of late."
Henry looked back at her with a slightly amused smile, momentarily distracted from his speculation. "Oh? How so?"
"He is so strict, so severe. He is all too quick to criticize," said Maria pointedly. She remembered too well that scene after the dance where Henry had been with Fanny--he had been quite solicitous of her welfare . . .
Henry smiled cynically. Looking at her face, he thought he could guess her thoughts all too well. Sometimes she could be charming, but she was quickly becoming tiring. He decided to have a little fun with her. "Perhaps not tonight--my sister is not exactly the girl to stand for that. I believe I shall go over and see what amuses them so," and he quickly crossed the room over to the happy quartet.
"Very well," murmured Maria as she watched him walk off. Julia, who had been observing quietly while seated by her aunt, teasingly smiled towards her sister's way. Maria glared, and her lower lip protruded even further when she saw Henry take a seat by Fanny out of the corner of her eye.
The sound of Henry's articulate voice floated over to her: "May I sit by you, Miss Price? It seems that my sister and your cousin are laughing quite heedless of you, and we both know that laughter usually leads to harm."
Fanny gazed at him as he spoke, then lowered her eyes to her hands. "Not always, Mr. Crawford. Though I do agree with you: laughter can be a very bad thing, but my cousin and Miss Crawford are always very good to me."
Henry smiled. "And I am glad to hear it, but if my sister is anything less than good to you, please do not hesitate to tell me of it."
Melissa's eyes had also wandered over to Henry, and as she listened to him, she shook her head with a laugh.
"Really, Henry, I assure you that Mr. Bertram and I are always considerate of Miss Price's feelings. You will have her dislike me, I am sure." Melissa kindly smiled at Fanny. "Dear Miss Price, please do not take what my brother says to heart, though we must admire his chivalry, must we not? Indeed, I am not used to seeing Henry say such things; I know of no more than three women who he has been so kind to."
Fanny blushed. "But Mr. Crawford is so well-mannered. He must be this kind to all, I should think."
"No," admitted Henry; "though I thank you for your kindness, I must say that my sister is right. I am only so very kind to a select few young ladies. Perhaps you will think it wrong of me, Miss Price, but I am only the best to those I esteem, and the best to those I like best. I suppose that my attentions are rather pointed."
"No, on the contrary," murmured Fanny, "I do not think it wrong of you at all." She looked over at him, then looked away quickly, her cheeks growing a bit crimson.
He smiled, and somehow gained possession of her hand. "I feel quite at ease then. Where Miss Price can find no fault, I know I am safe." He then gallantly kissed her hand, and Melissa smiled at his charming flirtatiousness. She looked at Tim next to her, and then pointedly looked in her brother's direction. He looked away, indulging in a smile.
"Well done, brother!" Melissa said. "I know you become more intelligent every day when you so readily acknowledge Miss Price to be your superior."
He laughed, and Miss Price blushed prettily, wanting to protest.
However, Henry quickly spoke up after a look at her face, subduing his laughter. "I believe that we should change our subject. Miss Price has been teazed quite enough. You see, Mary, you are too cruel!"
"I am not!" she protested loudly, easily changing strain. "Mr. Bertram, Mr. Edmund, I entreat your support on this matter."
"Happily, Miss Crawford," cried Edmund, happy to be included once more in. "I do not think you cruel, for cruelty is often committed upon purpose, and I do not think you give pain purposefully."
She pretended shock. "Mr. Edmund! How can you be so unkind?" She playfully slapped him and then turned back to Tim. "Mr. Bertram, I entreat you. I am your friend--surely you cannot be so cruel as to refuse to aid me!"
He smiled. "Of course, with the greatest good will should I defend you, but I should like to observe before I begin that 'the lady protests too much, methinks.'"
She laughed, and playfully slapped him as well. "Miss Price! You must defend me; these male creatures can be depended on for nothing. We ladies must stick together."
Miss Price smiled. "I think that your good nature speaks well for itself. The charge against you is so absurd you need not defend yourself against it."
Melissa smiled. "A pretty speech, by my troth! You are a true friend, Miss Price, and my beliefs are confirmed: the male sex is quite unsteady and unreliable." With a smile, she quoted Isabella Thorpe from Northanger Abbey. "'You men have none of you any hearts.'"
Tim's eyes lighted, recognizing the source. "'If we have not hearts, we have eyes; and they give us torment enough,'" he returned.
Melissa smiled, and her eyes sparkled with the shared mirth. "'Do they? I am sorry for it; I am sorry they find anything so disagreeable in me. I will look another way. I hope this pleases you,'" she commented, turning her back on him, "'I hope your eyes are not tormented now.'"
"'Never more so; for the edge of a blooming cheek is still in view--at once too much and too little,'" he replied. He smiled, and happened to catch out of the corner of his eye the view of Edmund glaring fiercely, which made him redden slightly as he realized how blatantly he had just flirted with Melissa. Melissa herself turned to see Henry's glance smilingly reproving her for her own flirtations, causing her to blush as well.
Suddenly to join the conversation was Maria, who had overheard the last exchange. "Tom! Why, I am quite bewildered. I knew not that you had such a gift with words. You make love quite charmingly--I never knew there was such a rake in you."
He smiled wryly. "'Dost thou think I care for a satire or an epigram?'" he muttered to himself. "Thank you, Maria," he said in louder tones. "I am happy to know that I can please my family so well."
"I think you should be happier to know how well you can please other young ladies. Miss Crawford, does my brother charm you well? Has he stolen your heart already?"
Melissa looked into that malicious face, and coldly replied, "No--your brother has not Henry's excellent talent for flattery and flirtation. Perhaps your brother would do better to study my brother's arts: they work well, do they not, Miss Bertram?" she asked carefully.
Maria had the grace to blush as she was hoisted by her own petard, and remained silent. Her mortification was quickly observed by Henry, who raised his eyebrows and sighed.
"Dearest Mary," he laughed, turning to Melissa, "I thank you for your compliments, but I'd rather that you didn't mention my name at all in your little argument. I'd call myself a peaceable fellow--why, as peaceable as Miss Price." He caught a glimpse of the girl's face with a smile. Fanny's eyes widened nervously, but she was able to bring the corners of her mouth upward in a polite smile. "Do you agree, Miss Price?" asked Henry, slyly taking her hand in his own once more. He glanced down at it, then at her face. "Well, perhaps not quite as peaceable as Miss Price, but then is anyone?"
Fanny, her face flushed once more, tried to release her hand from the man's grasp, and was only met with an entreating smile. However, his efforts proved to be in vain, for she was not humored.
"I dare say there are many as peaceable as I am," she said, lifting her eyes to his, endeavoring to be bold. "But if I am peaceable, it does not mean that I have no opinions, no feelings. Just because I do not always voice an opinion, Mr. Crawford, does not mean that I am always neutral. Indeed, I suppose that I have many opinions that you would not consider peaceable at all."
Henry was rather taken aback, but Melissa could not help but smile. Bravo, Fanny! she thought. So Fanny can be a Jane Eyre!
"Either I have said something wrong or you misconstrue me," replied Henry, as grave-faced as Melissa had ever seen him. "Of your integrity I have no doubt; the same with your intelligence. I suppose that you do have an opinion, and I suppose that it must find me at fault sometimes, but now that I know, I shall try harder to please you. No, please do not argue--I have told you before that you are my sense of right and wrong. But when I said that you are peaceable, I meant that you do not stoop to argument like some women do. Your nature is always true."
Fanny merely nodded. Melissa saw that her features were still cold, yet affected by the speech somehow. The girl seemed relieved to have released her feelings and to have had them responded to in a feeling manner. Looking at Edmund's obvious anger, Melissa guessed that he could never give Fanny the fine replies that his rival had given. His jealousy marked itself upon his face as much as the feeling marred Maria's complexion. She had been offended, and for the sake of Fanny Price, no less. Maria had already learned the folly of storming out of the room in a huff, so she stood silently at her place, like a cold and stony pillar.
So when Mrs. Norris and Mrs. Grant walked into the room, they were quite shocked to see the usually spirited group completely silent.
"Whatever can you be doing?" cried Mrs. Norris. "Why, I have never seen such a dull party before, and certainly not here. Perhaps you will brighten up when you see the dinner: I have allowed the cook to use fresh meat fetched from five miles away. Come, come, before it gets cold."
As they followed the woman, Mrs. Grant quietly walked over to Melissa. She glanced at Tim, then back at her sister with a smile.
"Has he asked yet?" she whispered. "If I missed anything . . ."
"Do not worry!" laughed Melissa. "We have not even sat down at the table yet!"
As they arrived at the table, Melissa was privileged to watch the amusing maneuvering that many people tried to sit next to the people they wanted to sit next to. Maria was trying to sit next to Henry, while Henry was trying to get near the mobile Miss Price, who just wanted to stay away from him, and who seemed to be joined in this endeavor by Edmund. Melissa smiled as she watched the people talking, and started when she heard herself addressed.
"Miss Crawford, here is a seat for you," said Tim as he pulled out the chair to his left.
She quickly sat down in it, and just as quickly Edmund took the chair to her left, while pulling out the chair on his left for Fanny, who then was assured safety as Yates was on Lady Bertram's right and Julia sat next to him. Henry was then forced into sitting next to Mrs. Grant, and Maria quickly took the other seat next to him.
As Mrs. Grant sat down in her chair by Tim, she directed a look at Melissa that Melissa easily interpreted as to say, "He loves you!" and she looked back with a look that tried to say, "You are too amusing, my dear sister."
As the first course was laid, Melissa spoke up. "I do believe we must have some conversation. Mr. Bertram, Mr. Edmund, do either of you have anything to say for yourselves?"
"Fine weather we've been having," commented Tim quickly.
"And the roads have not been too dry," continued Edmund.
Melissa laughed. "Please, please, no!" She then said to Mrs. Grant across the table, "You see how ill they use me!"
"On the contrary, Miss Crawford! How have we used you ill? We did start conversation for you!" defended Tim.
"I am sorry that we do not please you. I had so hoped to bring pleasure to you," said Edmund, looking a bit sad.
Melissa turned to him. "Well, it was a noble effort on your part, Mr. Bertram. I thank you very much for it."
"And what about my efforts, Miss Crawford?" asked Tim, pretending hurt.
"Well, certainly they were efforts, I suppose," said Melissa.
"Oh! I am cut to the quick!" cried Tim, his hand to his heart. He turned to Mrs. Grant. "My dear Mrs. Grant, I think I shall talk to you. You will use me kinder than your sister, I hope."
Mrs. Grant laughed good-naturedly. "Well, I do not know what to say, but I should not force you into conversation. I have been sitting here and merely wondering if the cook prepared the beef as I specified, and whether Dr. Grant liked it."
Tim's mouth twitched, but he obediently stopped himself from smiling. "It seems much work goes into running a parsonage," he commented, allowing Mrs. Grant to start talking about the trials and triumphs of housekeeping in a country parsonage, while Melissa turned back to Edmund.
"I hope I did not offend you, Mr. Bertram. I assure you that I meant no harm."
Edmund gazed at her with interest. "No; you were right to do so, Miss Crawford. I claim the fault. Dry roads must be of no interest to you."
"No, Mr. Bertram, on the contrary," cried Melissa with mirth. "I am very much interested in the condition of country roads. Dry roads, dirty roads: they all fascinate me. Why, in London my greatest amusement is to visit the country road shelves in the British Library--near the Reading Room, you know."
Edmund smiled weakly. "You teaze me, though knowing your good nature I will not take any further offense. You wish to converse; if not about roads, what would you like to talk about?"
Melissa glanced around the table, pretending to find a subject. Mr. Yates passed in front of her eyes. Talking to Julia, he looked contented, and the loud strains of his voice could be heard all around the table. To Melissa's right sat Tim, still patiently listening to Mrs. Grant's troubles, and occasionally coming up with a joke that completely charmed the lady. Henry sat next to Mrs. Grant, with Maria on his other side. As much as Miss Bertram touched up her yellow curls and uttered ladylike small talk, boredom showed itself upon Henry's features. Melissa's eyes focused upon him for at least a minute before they turned back to Edmund.
"We will talk about Henry," she said, immediately attracting Fanny's attention. "Miss Price, how does my brother appear to you now?"
Fanny looked at her with surprise, but obediently let her eyes wander over to Henry. He did not notice; his face remained as grave as before, which made Fanny frown a little.
"Perhaps he is only tired," replied Fanny, "but he does not appear to be enjoying himself. I wonder why he is not!" she said, simply and innocently.
Melissa sighed. "Because he has a noble nature, and such men do not enjoy simple table talk."
"It seems to me that he usually enjoys it," remarked Edmund, somewhat bitterly. Fanny nodded, yet looked to Melissa for a response.
"Well, you do not know him as I do. Of course living in London has made him rather good at it, but he has grown bored. I can see it."
"Bored with my sister?" Though Edmund did not agree with most of the things Maria did, he was quick to defend her with family pride. "But really, Miss Crawford, I dare say he has not met many more attractive girls in London."
"But attractiveness is not the thing, Mr. Bertram, though I do agree with you. He is in need of a change, and I would not be surprised if he were to leave within the week."
Fanny's eyes widened. "Leave Mansfield?"
"Unfortunately so. He has not told me so yet, but I expect word to come shortly. Shall you miss him, Miss Price?"
Fanny nodded. "He has been quite good to me--I hope he is not angry with me. Perhaps Maria can persuade him to stay . . ."
"I'm afraid that it's not in Maria's power anymore," replied Melissa, with a shake of her head. Fanny was silenced, and Melissa turned to listen to Tim.
Tim was busy talking with Mrs. Grant about the management of an estate, and with her comparing the two duties of the opposite sexes. Upon noticing her listening, Tim asked Melissa her thoughts on the subject.
"My opinion, Mr. Bertram? I should not undertake to express one--I am sure I have not thought of what it should be like to keep house."
"But at some point in the future, Miss Crawford, you will keep house. Surely you have been instructed in all the sweets of housekeeping."
"Oh! yes, I am a little familiar with the business, but not nearly so much as I should be, I suppose. In any case, I do not need those talents yet, Mr. Bertram," she said carefully.
"But you might need them soon, Miss Crawford. Perhaps even sooner than you should imagine," he said, looking into her eyes.
She looked away breathlessly, avoiding the pointed smiles of Mrs. Grant. What could he mean? she asked herself. Is this a warning that Edmund will propose? or . . . or he?
However, she quickly replied, a playful note in her voice. "Perhaps, Mr. Bertram, but I see nothing in my future likely to suggest that as of now. Are you blessed with the gift of second sight, and can see more than we mere mortals?"
He shook his head. "Not at all, Miss Crawford. I am no more clairvoyant than any other, but I do not think it needs much intelligence to guess that one day some man will wish to make you his bride."
"Thank you, Mr. Bertram," said she, with a smile, and then turned to her plate, effectively ending the conversation. Later, while looking about the room, she happened to glance over at Edmund. His brow was creased, and he appeared to be deeply lost in thought, and his eyes were blankly turned in her direction.
"Mr. Bertram? What can you be thinking about?" she asked.
He appeared to become more aware, and effected a small smile. "Nothing that would please you, I am afraid."
"What?" asked Melissa. "Mr. Bertram, you cannot say something like that, and leave me to my imaginings. What are you thinking of, pray?"
"I have been thinking about your brother, Miss Crawford, and I have been wondering what his intentions are towards my cousin."
Melissa suddenly swallowed and turned to him so that they were face to face. "Intentions? Whatever can you be suggesting, Mr. Bertram?"
"I--" Edmund's voice softened slightly when her eyes were focused upon him. "I would like to know what his intentions are towards Fanny."
"If my brother has any intentions, I should say that they are to be agreeable and polite."
"I have seen enough of that," remarked Edmund, "but what I wish to know is why Fanny? Why has he been paying so much attention to my cousin?"
"Well, someone needs to. She seems to be neglected by everyone else." Out of the corner of her eye, Melissa saw Edmund bite his lip; he was obviously displeased. Still, she went on. "My brother is better than you give him credit for, Mr. Bertram. I believe he would be kind to anyone who found themselves pushed into the background."
"What about Mr. Rushworth?"
Melissa paused. "I think Mr. Rushworth tends to be ignored by ladies mostly--it is not Henry's fault. He is not engaged."
Edmund's eyes traveled over to Maria. Now he looked even more concerned, unconsciously making Melissa feel guilty.
"But I appreciate your concern," she said, smiling. "As Henry's sister, I can assure you that he has no base intentions. Fanny is fortunate to have such a good cousin as you," she said, lifting her eyes. And even though she contradicted herself from her earlier statement, Edmund still looked pleased, and to prove the truth of the compliment, proceeded to ask Fanny if she would not care for some more water in her glass.
Melissa sighed and glanced over at Henry. She caught his eye, and he immediately smiled. If only you knew the trouble you put me through, she thought, playfully shaking her finger at him. However, Mrs. Grant also saw the action, and she laughingly pointed it out to Tim.
"Observe how well Mary scolds! I believe she will learn all the tricks of motherhood without any difficulty."
"I agree with you, Mrs. Grant," Tim said with a smile. "I should say that Miss Crawford is very effective at being in charge. She seems to enjoy having a certain . . . power over other people."
"Yes! I believe you are right! How wonderful she will be with children--I can just see it. I confess that I was worried about her ever becoming a housewife when she first came; her clothes and her manners all bespoke London. But she really does seem to be quite adaptable--many characteristics, I should say."
"Indeed," agreed Tim.
Mrs. Grant nodded and lowered her eyes. "So do you plan to have a family, Mr. Bertram?"
"You mean . . . marry?"
"Oh! I know you will marry, but I was talking about children--an heir for Mansfield Park, if you will permit me to say so without sounding vulgar."
Tim's eyes widened and he looked down at his empty plate. "I do not know--I am not sure that I particularly like children," he answered, which was partly true. He had some rather unhappy memories of having to watch children who lived near his flat when he was younger. He had always prided himself on a good sense of humor, but even he was not able to have complete patience with crying babies and rambunctious children.
"Come, come, Mr. Bertram," laughed Mrs. Grant. "Do you think that all fathers like children? Now you know that servants and governesses have the most contact with them, and the little you will have, I am sure you will become accustomed to it. Surely you realize the importance of an heir? We must have another Sir Thomas, you know."
"Yes, I know," replied Tim, trying to fight back a blush. "But perhaps I shall choose not to marry." He lowered his voice. "I have not given much thought to marriage, if you want to know the truth."
Mrs. Grant looked shocked. "Not given much thought--Oh! this is different than what I had expected!"
At first the woman's distress amused Tim, but then he began thinking about Melissa--what would she have to put up with when she arrived home? He knew that Mrs. Grant expected an engagement soon, and if she was so forceful to him, he could not imagine how the lady would be with her sister.
"But I have not decided, Mrs. Grant. I think what I say is mere talk--indeed, I know that I must marry, and I'm sure I shall. I have even considered one young lady, but I cannot tell you who she is. I hope you will forgive me?"
"Yes," smiled Mrs. Grant, her nerves quickly regained.
Luckily for Tim, the company seemed to be finishing up the last of their meal, and they all were allowed to retire to the parlor and he to retire from any more questions.
Melissa had risen from her seat and was awaiting Tim, when she noticed Edmund next to her, and was indebted to his more prominent assistance, while Tim was obliged to offer his arm merely to Maria, as Mrs. Grant had been taken by the all-too-eager Henry.
It was at this time that Mrs. Grant was allowed to express her emotions after her discussion with Mr. Bertram.
"Henry! Were you listening to my conversation with Mr. Bertram? I am sure he dotes upon our dearest Mary!"
"Really?" asked Henry, rather astonished. "And you truly fancy he means to propose tonight?"
Mrs. Grant was forced by honesty to negate this. "Not yet . . . but he practically told me that he considers engaging our sister in matrimony! What a wonderful thing for Mary--Lady Bertram will sit well upon her."
"Are you sure, my dear sister? I am not so sure that Mary means quite what you mean."
"Whatever do you mean, brother?" asked Mrs. Grant, slightly confused.
"Perhaps she is but flirting with the man--exactly what I believe her to be about, whatever Bertram thinks."
"Why, Henry--!" exclaimed Mrs. Grant, but quieted down as they entered the room, and saw Melissa seated on the chaise, with Tim whispering a word in her ear.
She crowed triumphantly. "You see, Henry? He positively dotes upon her, and her opinion is hardly a mystery. I consider it a concluded thing."
"Like my marriage to Julia Bertram, I suppose," he replied, with only a small smile on his face that he found himself unable to restrain, especially when he glanced over to see the flashy Baron in converse with his fair Agatha.
"Oh! quite!" replied Mrs. Grant serenely, following his line of vision and mistaking his motive happily.
As Edmund also noticed Tim's conference with the lovely Miss Crawford, he felt himself obliged to end any tête à tête occurring in that corner, and so finished all private conversation by his arrival upon the chaise next to Miss Crawford.
"Miss Crawford, I just happened to remember a promise I made you weeks ago, and propose to fulfil my obligation to you immediately."
"Promise, Mr. Bertram? What promise could that be?" she asked, thinking.
"Have you not forgotten when last we went riding, Miss Crawford? I know I have been all too forgetful of that, but I came to propose that we go riding tomorrow, if you are free. The horses is in sad need of exercise, and I thought that you could aid me in this."
"I should be delighted, Mr. Bertram! The weather has been quite lovely, and it would be a shame to waist it," she replied, curious as to what would lead Edmund to suddenly remember this appointment, and what he might have to say to her on a ride.
"I am honored," said Edmund in return, with a smile.
Tim, however, was not so happy as Edmund. He remembered that overheard chat between Edmund and Fanny, and with what he had recently seen, was sure that the man meant to come to a point soon. The words, "She is such an excellent creature, and sometimes she smiles at me so that I would dare to hope--" still rang alarmingly loud in his ears, and he worried about the results that might come from any tête à tête on their part.
"What a delightful scheme indeed, Edmund! I begin to feel that perhaps I should join you," he interjected, and received for his pains a stern glare from Edmund. Not ready to forfeit his plans for his brother, he abruptly spoke up.
"Yes, I am sure you would, Tom, but if I were to let you come along, I would feel that I was breaking my promise to Miss Crawford, and lying is not a habit a young clergyman should grow used to. We were to ride alone, were we not?" he asked Melissa, turning his head inquisitively.
"I believe so," she replied, "but I surely would not mind if Mr. Bertram came along. Perhaps it would be enjoyable, and why not exercise three horses instead of two?"
Edmund glared again at Tim before glancing at Melissa. "Yes . . . I think you are right, but there are only two horses that need exercise--the rest get enough walking whenever my sisters take the carriages out. And do you know that I should like to ride with you, Miss Crawford? It would please me above all things."
Melissa gave him a half smile and could do nothing but comply. As Edmund gave her specific directions and times for the next day, Melissa thought about the dreaded event. She could not see why the Boy was so determined that she ride with him even if he was already charmed with her. On their last ride together, they had accomplished nothing but uneasiness on both sides. And what was Edmund's purpose in wanting to be along with her? Could he be . . .?--no, she tried to get the thought out of her head. Edmund's feeble attempts at flirtation were bad enough without his having to throw a serious question in.
Fortunately, Mrs. Grant came and interrupted the two, seeing that no good could come over her sister's talking with the younger Mr. Edmund Bertram. She was tired, she told Melissa, and she had to get home to see what Dr. Grant thought of the dinner. It had been agonizing her for the whole night, and her nerves could not be quieted until she heard the words from his mouth. Melissa happily agreed to leave, and went to fetch her pelisse in the separate hall, where she was surprised to meet up with Tim.
"Can you believe Edmund?" he asked, attempting to laugh. "He must be very in love with you!"
Melissa would not have blushed had they been in the middle of the bustling parlor, but she could not help blushing now. "No, of course not. How silly of you!"
"Why is that silly? Any man could fall in love with you, I think, and as amusing as Edmund can be, he is a man."
Melissa did not reply. She felt her throat tighten as she heard Tim, and she pretended to be interested in brushing off her red pelisse. "Look at this," she said, affecting to laugh. "It is a mess--perhaps there is something in Edmund's theories about dusty roads."
Tim brought his hands over to the silk pelisse to help her clear away the dirt, finding his way to her hand in the process. For a moment he held his hand over hers. Melissa did not move, but merely stood there before stealing a glance at him. He caught her eyes--caught the expression in them--and unknowingly, his hands traveled from the red to her shoulders, then to the back of her mass of curls. Their faces grew closer together, but before they could touch, the sound of a door opening was heard.
Part 20A Posted on Wednesday, 14 July 1999
They both pulled away rather shamefully, eyes now upon the door. Fortunately, it was opened rather slowly, and the intruder's face did not appear until all was safe and unassuming, but Melissa still blushed pink when she saw Henry.
"I apologize to have entered so suddenly," he said, glancing at their embarrassed faces, "but Mrs. Grant is waiting for you in the barouche, Mary. Can you come now?"
"Yes, of course," murmured Melissa, sketching a quick curtsy to Tim, as he quickly took possession of her hand, and kissed it before letting her go. Once released, she quickly took her brother's arm and hurried out of the room.
"My dear Mary, have you just committed an indiscretion?" he asked mildly.
She blushed, but managed to say, "I did not commit an indiscretion!"
"Then, were you about to commit one?"
She remained silent, not being able to truthfully respond.
"I have my answer," he said, observing her face closely. He coughed uncomfortably for a moment, then quietly asked, "Mary, are you in love with Tom Bertram?"
She forced herself to smile, and shakily laughed. "Love Tom Bertram? Have you been taking lessons at Mrs. Grant's knee, Henry? Tom Bertram is an amusing flirtation, just like the Boy. Do you know the Boy and I are to go riding tomorrow, quite alone? It is quite amusing to flirt with one, and watch the other." She laughed again, and hoped that Henry did not see through her act. Her emotions were too shaken, and she was unsure of what had just happened, and what it meant. Did Tim? and did she? She could tell naught tonight.
Henry seemed to perceive her mood, and replied quietly, "I will take you at your word tonight, Mary, but I shall talk to you later of these circumstances."
"And I shall speak to you as well. I know I saw you staring at Miss Price more than once," she said cunningly, and happily noticed the turn of his thoughts.
He smiled slightly. "You are never too busy about your own business to pay attention to mine, are you, Mary? Indeed--Miss Price is certainly intriguing . . ." His voice trailed off, and he seemed to lose himself in thought of Miss Price, from which Melissa was loath to disturb him. Luckily, Mrs. Grant's distraction about Dr. Grant's dinner was somewhat genuine, and the party was allowed to reside in silence for the short ride home. Once there, they all parted and Melissa was allowed time for peace and reflection that she felt herself in desperate need of.
Tim, however, was not so lucky. Once Melissa was gone, he felt his thoughts to be quite disturbed, and he longed for nothing more than to be able to right them, but Edmund had observed Melissa's exit, and was quick to enter into the room.
Tim heard the door shut behind his brother, and he turned to face him. "Edmund! What are you doing in here?"
"And my reply is to ask what are you doing in here? Why did you follow Miss Crawford in here?"
"I had just recollected that I meant to ask her about practicing for Lovers' Vows--Amelia and Anhalt have many scenes together, brother, and so I imagined we could practice together at some point."
Edmund began to pace, and he muttered a displeased noise at the sound of the play. "I still object strongly to this acting, and especially this play! My feelings are for Miss Crawford--such a woman to play such a character as Amelia! I have always thought, Tom, that it was highly improper of you to press her to play the character! and then for you to appropriate the role of Anhalt so quickly afterwards!"
"If you will be pleased to remember, Edmund, I did not appropriate any role except that of the stupid old Butler, and perhaps you might acknowledge that it was Maria that forced me into the role."
"Maria forced you into nothing! You deliberately took the role!"
"I merely resolved not to make difficulties! I disapprove of the acting as much as you do--"
"Yet you were quick enough to encourage it at the time! Tell me, brother, how long have you been planning this? When will you attempt to seduce Miss Crawford?"
"What--?!" asked Tim, with a shaky laugh.
Edmund glared at him, furious. "Do not think I can be put off so easily, brother. I have seen you--I know you have been asking Fanny about Miss Crawford in the most vulgar manner, and I know you have been alone with her often, leaving Mar--Miss Crawford's family to imagine the worst."
"And is this cause for suspicion? You also have been alone with her, and tomorrow you will take her riding--alone--for the second time. If my actions cause you to suspect me, are you not also guilty of impropriety?" asked Tim angrily. He deeply resented Edmund's inquiry into his affairs; he felt shaken and unsure.
"No--for I deal not in the dark, but plainly. I plan to ask Miss Crawford for her hand in marriage." Edmund then scrutinized Tim's face, and stared into his eyes. "Are you in love with Miss Crawford, Tom?"
"Are you in love with her?" said Tim after a pause, not wanting to answer the question.
"I am. And as such, I want to know what your intentions are to her, so that we may be open with each other. So--do you love her? Do you plan to marry her? I must know."
Edmund's searching, ruthless stare put Tim off his guard. Not being such a serious person himself, he was not used to these vicious arguments, so he did what he always did in such circumstances--he laughed. "You and your intentions, Edmund!" he said, ignoring the Boy's strong frown. "You will never rest until you have discovered every other man's intentions. How noble the ladies must think you are!"
Edmund straightened his coat collar and threw his shoulders back. "I--I do not know that, but we are not talking about nobility, for I know that you have none. I want to know what you think of Miss Crawford, or rather what you are planning to do to her. Are you in . . . love with her?" he questioned, having to force the word out.
Tim paused. "How could I tell? How should I know what love is? Explain it to me--no, I am not teasing. You said that you love Miss Crawford; why do you? What do you love about her?"
"Many things, I suppose." Edmund's shoulders relaxed, and he fell to staring out the window towards the parsonage. "She is attractive--beautiful, I think. She is agreeable, and she pleases me."
"And is that all?"
Edmund thought for a moment. "She is very intelligent--too much, I fear sometimes, but then I was never one for an uneducated wife. A clergyman needs a very economical wife, one who can settle household affairs on a humble income. That is why I love her."
Tim sighed. "Badly done, Edmund," he scolded in a true Knightley-ish tone. "I have told you that I am not an expert on love, but I should think I know more about the subject than you do, gathered from your explanation."
"What more is there?"
"Well," replied Tim, pausing to think, "you should love her for not only how she can benefit you, but for who she is, as a being entirely separate from you. Throwing all exteriors aside--though how soft may be her cheek and how dark and lovely her hair--you should love her for her soul, the soul that is connected to your own. I think that if you truly love her, any blunder of her tongue or of her actions should be forgiven--loved, it very well may be, as you love the air that surrounds her and the tiles she steps upon." He spoke freely and heedlessly until he stopped with a self-deprecating shake of the head.
"You have been reading too much Shakespeare," remarked Edmund.
Tim laughed. "But what is so bad about that? Did not he know what true love is? I dare you to catch Shakespeare ever stooping to praising a woman for her beauty and economy alone."
"But you have not answered me," said Edmund, ignoring him. "Do you or do you not love Miss Crawford?"
"If I had to answer accordingly to your definition," answered Tim with a smile, "I would say that I do not. Good night. You really must rest now if you are to ride with Miss Crawford and ask her for her hand in one day. I wish you luck," he said, hurrying out of the room, and up the stairs to his bedroom.
Tim, Melissa, Henry, and Edmund all had much food for thought that night, yet all managed to get varying degrees of sleep.
The earliest risers were Melissa and Henry, as both had words to share with the other. They both dressed, and ended up in the parlor together a short while before breakfast.
"Henry! now you will satisfy my curiosity. I know you have flirted with Julia, Maria, and even a little with Miss Price, but your attentions have seemed to be mostly directed at Maria: what mean you now?"
"To tell you the truth, Mary, Miss Bertram's attentions are far too pointed . . . as Mr. Bertram's seem to be."
She laughed. "Well, I cannot stop that, Henry, as neither you can stop Miss Bertram. But you attempt to divert me--! Are you really thinking of Miss Price? You ought to be satisfied with her two cousins, you know."
"But I cannot be satisfied without Fanny Price!" he replied with a small smile, and soon said, "I do not quite know what to make of Miss Fanny. I do not understand her. I could not tell what she would be at yesterday. What is her character?--Is she solemn? Is she queer? Is she prudish? Why did she draw back and look so grave at me? I could hardly get her to speak. I never was so long in company with a girl in my life, trying to entertain her, and succeed so ill! Never met with a girl who looked so grave on me! I must try to get the better of this. Her looks say, 'I will not like you, I am determined not to like you'; and I say she shall."
Melissa laughed. "Foolish fellow! And so this is her attraction! that she does not care for you!" She then became more serious. "I do desire that you will not be making her really unhappy; a little love, perhaps, may animate and do her good, but I will not have you plunge her deep, for she is as good a little creature as ever lived, and has a great deal of feeling."
"It can be but for a fortnight," said Henry; "and if a fortnight can kill her, she must have a constitution which nothing could save. No, I will not do her any harm, dear little soul! only want her to look kindly on me, to give me smiles as well as blushes, to keep a chair for me by herself wherever we are, and be all animation when I take it and talk to her; to think as I think, be interested in all my possessions and pleasures, try to keep me longer at Mansfield, and feel when I go away that she shall be never happy again. I want nothing more."
"Moderation itself!" laughed Melissa. "But, dearest Henry, I must say I do doubt your ability on this point. The girl is charming, but strong of mind, and not to be charmed against her will; and as she knows your depraved character, any charming would be against her will."
He smiled. "We shall see. Time will tell."
"Well, Henry, I shall watch this flirtation with great interest, and I wish you luck--hopefully, it will be she and not you who is charmed," she said with a smile, and left the room to the dining room, where breakfast awaited her.
Mrs. Grant was also waiting at the table, immersed in a book. Melissa noticed the strange pairing with a little amusement.
"What are you reading, sister, pray tell? Is that a new novel?"
Mrs. Grant quickly looked up at her. "Oh, no, it is a cookbook. I am trying to see what I did wrong with the meat last night . . ."
"Then the dinner was not to Dr. Grant's taste?" Melissa asked, pretending to sympathize with the lady.
"He told me he liked it, but that the meat had not taste enough. I cannot see what I did wrong! I know I followed the recipe perfectly and did not lessen any of the ingredients--perhaps I shall have to add more next time."
"Perhaps so." Melissa picked up her tea, which she was now used to, and glanced out the window. "It's a lovely day--perfect for my ride."
"Ride?" exclaimed Mrs. Grant, closing the book. "I did not know you had plans for today. Who are you to ride with? Is it Mr. Bertram?"
"Yes," nodded Melissa; "I am to ride with Mr. Edmund Bertram. He was kind to ask me, and was very determined to persuade me to accept."
Mrs. Grant's smile faded. "'Tis a pity that the eldest Mr. Bertram never asks you to walk with him or to simply visit the Park to see him."
"But people might suspect things then," smiled Melissa; "people will say we're in love."
"And some people already believe so," came a voice from the doorway. Henry walked in, shading his eyes from the sun that poured through the white drapes. "Of course, people also know to keep quiet."
"Of course," acknowledged Melissa, setting down her tea. But Mrs. Grant did not seem to notice anything. She was already used to the constant teasing that went back and forth between her young siblings.
"And I will keep quiet about your intentions, dear brother," smiled Melissa. "I promise I shall not worry the Boy about them; he does like to be in control of things, you know."
Henry only laughed.