Edmund Bertram's Diary

by Amanda Grange

  ‘That play must be a favorite with you,’ I said to Crawford. ‘You read as if you knew it wel .’

  ‘It wil be a favorite, I believe, from this hour,’ he replied. ‘But I do not think I have had a volume of Shakespeare in my hand before since I was fifteen. But Shakespeare one gets acquainted with without knowing how. It is a part of an Englishman’s constitution. His thoughts and beauties are so spread abroad that one touches them everywhere; one is intimate with him by instinct.’

  ‘To know him in bits and scraps is common enough; to know him pretty thoroughly is, perhaps, not uncommon; but to read him wel aloud is no everyday talent.’

  ‘Sir, you do me honor,’ said Crawford, with a bow of mock gravity.

  ‘You have a great turn for acting, I am sure, Mr. Crawford,’ said Mama soon afterwards; ‘and I wil tel you what, I think you wil have a theatre, some time or other, at your house in Norfolk. I mean when you are settled there. I do indeed. I think you wil fit up a theatre at your house in Norfolk.’

  ‘Do you, ma’am? No, no, that wil never be,’ Crawford assured her. I was surprised, for if the plays were wel chosen, there could be no objection to Crawford setting up a theatre. He had a good income and was entitled to do with it, and his own home, as he wished. It would certainly give him an outlet for his talents, which were of no common sort in that direction.

  Fanny said nothing but I am sure she must have guessed that Crawford’s avowal never to have a theatre must be a compliment to her feelings. She had made them known at the time of our disastrous theatrical affair and I was pleased that Crawford was wil ing to make such a sacrifice. It boded wel for Fanny’s future happiness that he put her own wishes above his own. I asked Crawford where he had learnt to read aloud so wel and Fanny listened intently to our discussion. I mentioned that it was not taught as it should be, and Crawford agreed.

  ‘In my profession it is little studied,’ I said, ‘but a good sermon needs a good delivery and I am glad my father made me read aloud as a boy, so that I could develop a clear and varied speaking voice.’

  Crawford asked me about the service I had already performed and Fanny listened avidly. I admired Crawford, for he had found the way to her heart. She was not to be won by gal antry and wit, but by sentiment and feeling, and seriousness on serious subjects; something of which he showed himself eminently capable.

  I drew away after a time, giving the two of them some time alone. I took up a newspaper, hoping that Fanny would be persuaded to talk to her lover, and I gave them my own murmurs: ‘A most desirable Estate in South Wales’; ‘To Parents and Guardians’; and a ‘Capital season’d Hunter’

  to cover their own.

  It did not seem to go wel , from what I heard, for Fanny seemed to be berating Crawford for inconstancy, and though I tried not to listen I could not help their words reaching me.

  ‘You think me unsteady: easily swayed by the whim of the moment, easily tempted, easily put aside,’ I heard Crawford say. ‘With such an opinion, no wonder that . . . But we shal see. It is not by protestations that I shal endeavor to convince you I am wronged; it is not by tel ing you that my affections are steady. My conduct shal speak for me; absence, distance, time shal speak for me. They shal prove that, as far as you can be deserved by anybody, I do deserve you. You are infinitely my superior in merit; al that I know. You have qualities which I had not before supposed to exist in such a degree in any human creature. You have some touches of the angel in you beyond what — not merely beyond what one sees, because one never sees anything like it — but beyond what one fancies might be. But stil I am not frightened. It is not by equality of merit that you can be won. That is out of the question. It is he who sees and worships your merit the strongest, who loves you most devotedly, that has the best right to a return.’

  I was surprised to hear such ardor, and was just beginning to be uncomfortable at overhearing it when Baddeley brought in the tea. Crawford was obliged to move and I returned to the group. Fanny said no more but I felt she could not have been unmoved by Crawford’s protestations. I was expecting her to speak to me when he left but she kept silent. I did not ask her about him, for I did not want to press her. But as I have always been her confidant, I hope she wil turn to me when she feels she needs someone to talk to.

  Thursday 12 January

  As I dressed this morning, I found myself wondering what Mary thought of her brother’s feelings for Fanny. I knew she was fond of Fanny, but I also knew that she had a high regard for wealth and distinction, and I thought she might feel that Henry should unite himself to both. I rode over to Thornton Lacey and found that the work was going on apace. There was already a difference in the size of the farmyard and Jackson was at work on the door. The fine weather was helpful, and I went round to the stables to ascertain whether there would be room to keep my horses as wel as a mount for Mary. There would, perhaps, be enough room but I felt it would be better to extend the stables, something which could be easily done, and I spoke to Jackson about it before leaving.

  Returning to Mansfield Park, I found myself wondering again about Mary’s view on her brother’s choice of bride. We were dining at the Parsonage, and I resolved to broach the subject, but in the event there was no need, for she began to speak of it herself not five minutes after I had arrived.

  ‘Wel , Mr. Bertram, and what do you think of my brother and Miss Price?’ she asked. Mrs. Grant laughed at her for her rapidity, saying, ‘Mary, give Mr. Bertram time to sit down, at least!’

  ‘But I want to know,’ she said.

  ‘I confess I was surprised,’ I returned.

  ‘Were you? I was not. I have been seeing his attachment for some time, and seeing it with pleasure. There is not a better girl in al the world than Fanny Price. Her gentleness and gratitude are of no common stamp, and I am glad that Henry has seen it. She has nothing of ambition in her, and she is the only woman I have ever met who would not be swayed by Henry’s fortune and his estate. Only love wil do for Fanny Price.’

  ‘There you are right,’ I said.

  ‘Such a beautiful girl,’ said Mrs. Grant. ‘Henry has been ful of her charms. Her face and figure, her graces of manner and goodness of heart are exhaustless themes with him. He talks of nothing else.’

  ‘Unless it be her temper, which he has good reason to depend on and praise. He has often seen it tried, for Mrs. Norris is unstinting in her criticisms, and yet Fanny never answers her sharply,’

  said Mary.

  ‘No, indeed, I have never heard her speak a word of complaint, ’ said Mrs. Grant.

  ‘She is sometimes too forbearing, and needs a champion,’ I said.

  ‘Oh! Henry wil champion her, should there ever be a need, but why wil there be, when he takes her away to her own home? There wil be no aunt there to criticize her, only a husband who loves her, and a staff whose business it wil be to make sure she is comfortable in every way. There is only one fault I have to find in her, and that is that she has refused Henry. For that I am very angry with her!’

  But she said it with a laugh in her voice and a sparkle in her eye, so that I knew she was only teasing.

  ‘He has taken her by surprise,’ said Mrs. Grant wisely. ‘Such a quiet, unassuming girl, would be overwhelmed at so sudden a proposal. But let her get used to the idea, and she wil soon give him the answer he deserves. Her affections, once they take hold, are strong. We have seen it with her brother.’

  ‘Yes, she loves Wil iam as no girl has ever loved a brother before,’ said Mary with delight. ‘It is sweetness itself to see them together.’

  ‘There she owes your brother a great debt,’ I said. ‘It was very good of him to take Wil iam to see the Admiral.’

  ‘He thinks nothing of it,’ said Mary. ‘He was glad to do everything in his power to assist Wil iam, because he knew that, by assisting Wil iam, he was pleasing the woman he loves.’

  ‘And her understanding is so good,’ said Mrs. Grant.

  ‘It is beyond everything, quick and
clear,’ said Mary.

  I was heartened by her words, for they showed she had the goodness I had always expected her of, for how else would she be able to value Fanny’s true worth?

  ‘Such steadiness and regularity of conduct, such a high notion of honor, and such an observance of decorum—’

  ‘Any man might depend on her faith and integrity. He wil be able to absolutely confide in her,’

  said Mary.

  ‘It was a happy day, indeed, when he met her,’ said Mrs. Grant.

  ‘They wil do each other good. Fanny cannot fail to do Henry good, and he wil give her the consequence she deserves. She wil feel it every day, every hour, in the way people approach her and speak to her. And he wil make her happy. There is no woman Henry cannot fail to please, if he sets his mind to it, and he is certain to set his mind to pleasing the woman he loves. He has already done it. Fanny’s happiness is his only thought.’

  ‘Ay, so much so that he talks of renting a house round here, so that he need not take her from everything she knows,’ said Mrs. Grant. ‘He means to let Everingham and rent a place in this neighborhood — perhaps Stanwix Lodge.’

  ‘Settle in Northamptonshire?’ I asked, much pleased. ‘That wil be a very good idea.’

  ‘Yes, is it not pleasant?’ said Mary. ‘Then we shal al be together.’

  The look she gave me with this encouraged me more than I can say. We shal al be together. My heart leapt at the thought that she wanted us al to be together as much as I did. Henry and Fanny, and Mary and I.

  As I returned home at last, I resolved to put my hopes to the test. As soon as Thornton Lacey is ready to receive a mistress, and as soon as I have settled my affairs so that I know exactly what I am able to offer her, I wil ask her to be my wife.

  Friday 13 January

  I was at Thornton Lacey early this morning, and rode round the grounds, reining in my horse at the southern edge and looking over the adjacent fields. If I can persuade Robert Ingles to sel them to me I can improve the living and increase my income. Having examined them, I returned to Mansfield Park and talked over the idea with my father.

  ‘An excel ent notion,’ he said. ‘Thornton Lacey is capable of a good deal of improvement in the right hands, and I wil help you in any way I can.’

  He hesitated, and I said, ‘You wish to talk to me about something? About Fanny?’

  He nodded.

  ‘I wish you would have a word with her, Edmund. Crawford talks of constancy, but he is going away in a few days’ time, and I think it is best not to try him too far.’

  ‘If he knows Fanny’s true worth — and I think that he does — he wil not forget her,’ I reassured him, for I did not feel it was in Crawford’s feelings that the obstacle lay.

  ‘Wel , it may be as you say, but I would like some indication of her present feelings. I cannot advise or guide her if I do not know her mind or her heart.’

  ‘I have been thinking the same thing. I wil take the first opportunity of speaking to her alone. The time has come for me to find out what she truly thinks and feels.’

  ‘Good. She is walking through the shrubbery at the moment. I saw her from the window not five minutes ago.’

  ‘Then I wil join her.’

  I donned my coat and a very few minutes took me outside.

  ‘I am come to walk with you, Fanny,’ I said. I drew her arm through mine companionably, but I was disturbed to find that she did not lean against me, as was her custom. ‘It is a long while since we have had a comfortable walk together, you and I.’

  She agreed to this by look rather than word and I could tel by her silence that her spirits were low. My heartfelt for her.

  ‘I know you have something on your mind,’ I said gently.

  ‘Am I to hear of it from everybody but Fanny herself?’

  She sounded dejected. ‘If you hear of it from everybody, cousin, there can be nothing for me to tel .’

  ‘Not of facts, perhaps; but of feelings, Fanny. No one but you can tel me them. I do not mean to press you. If it is not what you wish yourself, I have done,’ I said, adding only, by way of encouragement, ‘I had thought it might be a relief.’

  ‘I am afraid we think too differently for me to find any relief in talking of what I feel,’ she said quietly.

  ‘Do you suppose that we think differently?’ I asked in surprise. ‘I dare say, that on a comparison of our opinions, they would be found as much alike as they had been used to be. I consider Crawford’s proposals as most advantageous and desirable, if you could return his affection. I consider it as most natural that al your family should wish you could return it; but that, as you cannot, you have done exactly as you ought in refusing him. Can there be any disagreement between us here?’

  ‘Oh no!’ she cried in relief. ‘But I thought you blamed me! I thought you were against me. This is such a comfort!’

  I pul ed her arm further through mine and was relieved and reassured to feel her lean on me.

  ‘How could you possibly suppose me against you?’ I asked her softly.

  ‘My uncle thought me wrong, and I knew he had been talking to you.’

  ‘As far as you have gone, Fanny, I think you perfectly right. Can it admit of a question? It is disgraceful to us if it does. If you did not love Crawford, nothing could have justified your accepting him.’

  She gave a sigh, and as I heard al her worries rushing out of her I was glad I had brought her such comfort. How unhappy she must have been, thinking we were al against her. But once she was more comfortable I felt I must show her the advantages of Crawford’s offer, for I did not want her to grow old regretting the chance she had thrown away in her youth. Crawford was offering her love and affection; her own establishment; and al the joys of a rich and varied life.

  ‘Crawford’s is no common attachment,’ I said gently, as we walked on together, feeling the sun on our faces and crunching the frost beneath our feet. ‘He perseveres with the hope of creating that regard which had not been created before. This, we know, must be a work of time. But let him succeed at last, Fanny,’ I said, for I felt sure she only needed a little encouragement to welcome his attentions, and that, as Mrs. Crawford, she would be a happy woman. I was astonished when she burst out, ‘Oh! never, never, never! he never wil succeed with me.’

  ‘Never, Fanny?’ I asked, surprised into adding, ‘This is not like yourself, your rational self.’

  ‘I mean, that I think I never shal ,’ she said, control ing her passion. ‘As far as the future can be answered for; I think I never shal return his regard.’

  I could not understand why she was so set against him, of leaving the home of her uncle for one of her own — and then al was made clear to me. Fanny’s tender nature had given her a strong attachment to early things, and made her dislike the thought of change or separation. One of the things I had thought of as being in Crawford’s favor was in fact against him, for in gaining a home of her own, she would have to leave behind the home she knew. I wished again that he had taken things more slowly, attaching her to him before speaking of marriage, so that she would have been prepared for his declarations and even wanting them; and, wanting them, she would have been able to face the thought of leaving the securities and pleasures of childhood with composure.

  ‘I must hope that time, proving him (as I firmly believe it wil ) to deserve you by his steady affection, wil give him his reward,’ I said.

  But she did not enter into my hopes. Quite the reverse. ‘We are so total y unlike,’ she said, ‘we are so very, very different in al our inclinations and ways, that I consider it as quite impossible we should ever be tolerably happy together, even if I could like him. There never were two people more dissimilar. We have not one taste in common. We should be miserable.’

  This was bleak indeed. So bleak that I felt fancy was at work, rather than reason.

  ‘You have both warm hearts and benevolent feelings,’ I pointed out. ‘And, Fanny, who that heard him read, and saw you listen to Shak
espeare the other night, wil think you unfitted as companions? There is a decided difference in your tempers, I al ow. He is lively, you are serious; but so much the better: his spirits wil support yours.’

  She hesitated, and then said reluctantly, ‘I cannot approve his character. I have not thought wel of him from the time of the play. I then saw him behaving so improperly by poor Mr. Rushworth, not seeming to care how he exposed or hurt him, and paying attentions to my cousin Maria, which — in short, at the time of the play, I received an impression which wil never be got over.’

  I protested at this, but she said, ‘As a bystander, perhaps I saw more than you did; and I do think that Mr. Rushworth was sometimes very jealous. And before the play, I am much mistaken if Julia did not think Mr. Crawford was paying her attentions. ’

  ‘To be sure, the play did none of us credit, but Fanny, you have lived so retired that you have made too much of Crawford’s lively nature, and my sisters’ desire to be admired. To condemn the behavior of that time is right and just; but to let it destroy your future happiness is fol y. He wil make you happy, Fanny; I know he wil make you happy, and you wil make him happy,’ I reassured her.

  She looked tired. I did not want to press her further, so I turned the conversation to other things, talking of my time with the Owens.

  ‘You spent your time pleasantly there?’ asked Fanny, reviving once the subject of Crawford was dropped. ‘The Miss Owens — you liked them, did not you?’

  ‘Yes, very wel . Pleasant, good-humored, unaffected girls. But I am spoilt, Fanny, for common female society. Good-humored, unaffected girls wil not do for a man who has been used to sensible women. They are two distinct orders of being. You and Miss Crawford have made me too nice,’ I told her.

  She smiled, but it was a tired smile, and I felt she had had enough conversation. So, with the kind authority of a privileged guardian, I led her back into the house. Saturday 14 January

  I spoke to my father after breakfast and told him that I thought we should make no further attempts to persuade Fanny, but that everything should be left to Crawford’s addresses and the passage of time.