Do you remember the story of the Miss Bennets, Mamma? It is a long one, and I shall tell you the particulars some other time, but I fear Caroline is quite obsessed with one of the sisters, rambling on about how a light-hearted comment she had made about the woman’s looks had offended Mr Darcy, who had declared the lady to be handsome. I could not make much sense of her words, for she was very upset. I like Caroline very much, Mamma, but her behaviour when it comes to this man is hard to understand. The sooner she is free of his spell, the better.
“Julia is right, you know. Miss Bingley is a dear, but Mr Darcy will never reciprocate her feelings,” stated Lady Bertram, pensively.
“Wait, there is a note that I have not yet read.”
Across the back page, Julia had added a few lines, written perpendicularly over the letter I had already read.
Mr Darcy is in London! One of the few friends of Mr Yates’ that are still in town saw him at the club the other night. Apparently, Mr Darcy was unusually congenial and appeared quite pleased with himself, so whatever business he was in town for has apparently been concluded to his satisfaction, although he would not say what.
Like Julia, I wondered what Mr Darcy’s concerns in town had been. He was quite a mystery to me.
Later that day my uncle had a visit that wholly unsettled me. I was enjoying my last afternoon in the drawing room in the company of Lady Bertram, sketching the view for one last time with the trusty old leather pouch in my lap when my uncle entered with Mr Cole.
“Lady Bertram, it is always a pleasure to see you, especially if it is to find you in such good health. You are quite unrecognisable from the lady I attended outside of the Pump Room,” Mr Cole gallantly said.
“Do you think so, Mr Cole?” asked Lady Bertram with the bashfulness of a girl not yet out. “Have you come to bid us farewell?”
Mr Cole looked at Sir Thomas, who nodded.
“You may remember that Mr Cole is assisting me on a matter related to our family interests in Antigua,” said Sir Thomas.
“Yes, Tom mentioned something or other. Or perhaps it was Julia.”
“It is a delicate matter, dearest, and I thought it wisest not to share it with you until Mr Cole and I had discussed it fully and I was sure to have Tom and Edmund’s acquiescence, for the decision will have serious implications for their future. Today, I was finally sure they both agreed, so I reached a preliminary agreement with Mr Cole. He is to dispose of the bulk of our West Indian estate on my behalf.”
“But Sir Thomas, your Antigua properties are as dear to you as is Mansfield Park!” exclaimed Lady Bertram.
“Perhaps that was the case a while ago, but much has changed since. I am no longer in a position to supervise a concern that requires so much attention in such faraway lands, and Tom, as you know, is unable to take my place on account of his health. Moreover, I have been struggling with the moral aspects involved. What was proper as well as financially sound just a decade ago, leaves me with much moral unease today. Therefore, I have instructed Mr Cole with the task of selling our lands and house, and to prepare and present the necessary deeds in order to grant manumission to all the poor souls in the plantation.”
The thought of Sir Thomas willingly getting rid of his West Indian estate might have been preposterous only a few years back, but it sounded like the most sensible course of action in the present circumstances. My cousin Tom had never expressed any kind of attachment to the Antigua estate, and he only rarely mentioned his West Indian trip, often with a shudder. I also knew that Fanny and Edmund leaned towards the abolitionist cause, and their influence on Sir Thomas had been steadily growing over the past few years. I wondered if Edmund’s letter from this morning made a point of requesting this last point in order to agree to the proposal.
With some insistence, Lady Bertram made Mr Cole stay for a while, and the tea things were brought in. Meanwhile, Sir Thomas observed me with a strange look in his eyes, which made me think I was somehow connected to the matter at hand, although I could not understand why. At one point, there was an urgent message for Sir Thomas and my uncle had to excuse himself for a few moments. After he had left, I glanced in the direction of my aunt. She had dozed off.
Mr Cole jumped at the chance.
“So, Miss Price, I hear your uncle has found you a tutor so you may develop that talent of yours,” he said, pointing in the direction of my drawing materials. “I am sure you feel very thankful to Sir Thomas for showing such generosity.”
I read a sliver of a warning in his words, as if he was asserting his power over me through his ability to strip me of everything I had in my life.
“I am very much obliged, and my uncle is well aware of the sentiment. If you knew me better, perhaps you would not think me a spoilt young madam incapable of gratitude.”
“Quite the opposite; I think rather highly of you. So highly, in fact, that I have made you the object of my present visit.”
“How so, sir? I thought you were here to discuss the West Indian business with my uncle.”
“I was, but the conversation moved on to related subject matters.”
Mr Cole’s steely eyes were now firmly fixed on me, and I felt my hair stand on end. Murphy returned at that very moment and coloured violently upon seeing Mr Cole. As for him, he was as startled as if he had seen the devil, and immediately rose from his seat, asked me to transmit his excuses to my uncle and aunt, and left. Murphy and I sighed when we heard the door shut. Sensing that she disliked him as much as I did, I felt emboldened to say out loud what in usual circumstances I would have kept to myself.
“I do not wish you to think me rude, but allow me to declare Mr Cole a most disagreeable gentleman.”
“If you can call him that, miss,” mumbled the maid as she put the teapot and the used cups and plates on an ornate silver plate.
I remembered Mr Cole’s crude words in Mr Yates’ study, and his heinous demands when he found me. I interlaced my fingers and looked at Murphy.
“May I ask you if he has ever behaved untowardly towards you?” I asked, blushing.
Murphy stopped what she was doing. Her round face was as pale as the full moon, and her ears were bright red.
“Who would care, miss?” said the servant, shrugging her shoulders.
“I would, very much.”
She lowered her head and remained silent for a few moments. When she spoke, her voice was as tense as a crossbow.
“It was on the night of the fancy London party, miss. It was well past midnight, and I was busy replacing some of the wax candles in the corridor. A bunch of jolly gentlemen arrived from one of the wings, then went into the main room, where them guests were dancing and running around like children. A bit later, I see that man come from the same place. He was no happy, I tell you, and I pray he will not mind me, but he sees me and he comes straight towards me, clutching his gloves and looking like a wolf about to jump on his prey. He didn’t even let me speak. He grabs the top of my arms so I wouldn’t move, and… I do not wish to trouble you with the details, miss.”
Murphy was looking at me now, her eyes cloudy like pond water. I need not know the details to realise that poor Murphy had bore the brunt of Mr Cole’s frustration that night.
“Thankfully, Mr Yates came looking for him, and yelled his name once he realised what has happening, and stopped him before he… but this is not the kind of things an unmarried lady ought to hear about,” said Murphy, lowering her head once more. “Do you believe me, miss?”
“I do, and I am very sorry for causing you pain with my questioning.”
“Nay, miss, you at least asked. But that man, he is no gentleman, if I ever saw one.”
I felt a sisterly wave of solidarity towards her.
“Murphy, I am afraid that I have not always behaved civilly towards you, and I would like to apologise if at any point you have found my behaviour somewhat brusque.”
Murphy looked at me sideways.
“No need to mention it, miss. You was just af
raid. We all are, sometimes.”
Murphy shrugged once more, before leaving the room with the loaded tray.
The uneasiness that Mr Cole had planted inside of me returned with a vengeance later, when my uncle called me to have a word with him before dinner.
“Susan, I have a sensitive matter to discuss with you. It concerns Mr Cole.”
I blushed and looked down.
“It is not like you to be shy, Susan. Your sister, perhaps, but not you. Please sit down.”
I did as my uncle asked.
“Mr Cole is a very commendable man. He has received a fine education, is in a line of work that shows much promise, and is due to inherit a substantial fortune in a few years. He has also earned my respect in a professional capacity. As you heard earlier, I have entrusted him with the fate of one of the family’s most valued assets. Perhaps I will entrust him with something of even more value very soon.”
I tried to speak, but he signalled me to remain silent.
“Mr Cole has made me a personal request that concerns you. He expressed his sincere admiration for you and asked me for his permission to court you.”
My cheeks, my neck, my ears were burning. I didn’t know what to say. Sir Thomas’ features were perfectly serious.
“Of course, when we left Mansfield Park it was to be expected that something of this sort would happen. I am not blind, and neither is Lady Bertram: you are a lively young woman with many charms, and it is only natural that you should think of your future. You should consider yourself lucky to have attracted Mr Cole’s interest. I dare say many ladies above your station would be delighted if that was the case for them, for his prospects are very fine. Moreover, you have done so while always maintaining a perfectly proper manner towards him, never engaging in frivolous flirtations or improper encouragement. Your aunt and I are exceedingly pleased at your behaviour, which is exactly what a young woman’s ought to be.”
“Please allow me to speak, sir,” I begged, raising my hand. “I am exceedingly glad that Mr Cole can help you on a matter that I know has been a worrying concern for the family for a number of years. However, that must be all. I would not be happy with him - we are much too different.”
“You are wrong, child. You are much the same. I have observed you in the many years you have lived under my roof. It is a testament to your determined character that you have tamed your natural independence of spirit to adjust to the subdued life of Mansfield Park, but I saw your face light up at the shop when that man told you about the German botanical painter and her trips to Surinam. Becoming Mr Cole’s wife would give you not only a comfortable lifestyle, but also the adventure you crave and the chance to dedicate yourself to your art.”
“But sir, let me insist…”
“Let us not speak of this any more for now, Susan,” said he with a sigh, rubbing his forehead with his long fingers. “I shall respect your wishes and tell Mr Cole that your modesty does not allow you to engage with him further at this point. I hope that he will not give up easily, and that you might eventually reconsider your position. Now, let us go downstairs, for your aunt will be awaiting us.”
I knew Sir Thomas well enough to recognise his moods, and it was not the moment to voice my concerns further or speak of Mr Cole’s despicable behaviour. Biting my lip, I nodded in silence and followed my uncle to the dining parlour, where we went to have our last meal in Bath. I ate with little appetite and churned insides.
Chapter 17
The Yates’ London residence did not appear to me as impressive as it had the first time around, perhaps because I had now spent a substantial amount of time in Bath, with the opportunity to inspect a number of buildings and private houses that would be considered grand. Unlike last time, Mr and Mrs Yates were both at home. He was resting his injured leg on a footstool in the drawing room with a melancholy air about him, and barely spoke. Julia, on the other hand, was affable and very chatty, especially towards her mother, who relished the attention. My aunt and uncle were settled in the bedchamber where they had stayed on the previous occasion. As for me, I was glad that the smirking maid was nowhere to be seen, and that I had been given a room on the second floor which was a far cry from the attic I had shared with Murphy a few months before.
Lady Bertram was slightly apprehensive about her visit to Monsieur Levain.
“I dare say he will find I am not as much improved as you all think, and that he will send me back to Bath.”
“I am sure the doctor will be very pleased with your progress, Mamma. You have done very well!”
“Yes, Aunt. You only need to think of your spirits. Six months ago you could not find the energy to get up in the mornings and now you are taking the dog for walks.”
“But they are only short walks, Susan. It has but puppy legs still,” said she with a smile.
The following morning, Sir Thomas and Julia insisted on being present during Monsieur Levain’s examination. In spite of the hot weather, the French physician arrived sporting a light jacket in a bright shade of green and a lace cravat tightly knotted around his neck. He took Lady Bertram’s pulse and inspected her eyes, throat and neck area, while I held my breath. From the corner of my eye, I could see that Sir Thomas was twisting his signet ring, while Julia was holding her mother’s hand.
“Madame, I had received very positive reports from Doctor Miller, but I was not expecting such a marked improvement. Your initial symptoms have disappeared or are withdrawing. The sallow complexion, the bulging eyes and the dry skin I noticed during our first consultation are no longer there. Even the growth on your neck has shrunk. I am very pleased, and I trust you will be as well. Do you have any questions?”
“Do I need to return to Bath to continue the treatment?” asked Lady Bertram with a whimper.
“Not unless you wish to, Madame. I believe that the waters have helped, but the main reason behind your improvement has been the tincture you were prescribed. I can tell from your evolution that you have been most exact in taking your medication, and for that I am very grateful. There are few things more vexing to a physician than prescribing medicines that are never taken in the dose recommended, or with the regularity they require.”
“You have to thank my niece for that,” intervened Sir Thomas.
“It has been my pleasure, sir,” I mumbled.
“What will happen with my mother’s goitre? Will it eventually disappear?” asked Julia.
Hers was a very pertinent point. Lady Bertram was anxious about her appearance but would never dare to ask the question directly. The doctor looked at Lady Bertram with kindness.
“It is highly unlikely that it will. The swelling has already subsided noticeably, and, although one can never tell for sure, I believe Lady Bertram should reconcile herself to the fact that it will always be there. I realise that it is not what ladies want to hear, but stoles are very fashionable at the moment, and they come with a very pleasant array of colours and designs. Otherwise, the best remedy is diamonds. A magnificent diamond necklace does wonders to distract people’s attention.”
Monsieur Levain raised an eyebrow and bowed in Sir Thomas’ direction.
“I am not sure my father will appreciate your advice, Monsieur,” said Julia with a giggle. My aunt smiled, covering her mouth with her hand, but my uncle remained perfectly serious. Shortly afterwards, the physician left with the strut of a fashionable dandy headed for his club.
“Monsieur Levain is too refined to be a doctor,” mused Lady Bertram.
“And much too handsome!” added Julia.
“In that case, I am glad that you need not see him again,” replied my uncle. “You heard what he said; we are free to return to Mansfield Park.”
“Dear Sir Thomas, there is nothing I long for more!”
Sir Thomas looked at his wife lovingly, and his features softened, as if something was melting inside of him. Gently, he took her hand and kissed it.
“Say no more, dearest. I shall write to Tom this instant.”
“Now, Susan, what is it? You do not look very pleased with the idea of returning to Mansfield Park.”
“Do not mind me, sir.”
“And yet you are not smiling.”
“Perhaps Susan was hoping to see more of London,” said Julia with a cold tone.
“Of course,” replied Sir Thomas. “What was the name of the girl you met in Bath, the one who became your particular friend?”
“Miss Morland?” I shook my head. “She is gone home to Wiltshire for a while.”
“We heard from Mrs Allen that she is due to get married after the summer to a nice young lawyer,” Lady Bertram said.
“I wonder if the Allens are in town,” said Sir Thomas. “I believe that Mr Allen is often in London during the summer on account of his business affairs. You may wish to send Mrs Allen a note this morning to let her know that we are in town, dearest. She was always very good to Susan, and I am sure that she would appreciate the gesture.”
“I suppose we might as well, for we will not be in society much once we return to Mansfield Park,” said Lady Bertram with a contented smile.
Mrs Allen’s response came that same day as a morning visit, just as Julia was out. Her red cheeks betrayed how little her constitution agreed with the London heat, in spite of the fan in her right hand, the folded parasol in her left fist and the light gown she was wearing, made from the finest muslin in the market. As always, her spirits were ebullient and she looked ever so pleased to see us.
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