Jane Austen's Mansfield Park: Abridged

by Emma Laybourn

Lady Bertram was soon astonished to find how well they did without Sir Thomas, how well Edmund could supply his place in carving, settling with the servants, and saving her from all possible exertion.

  News of the travellers' safe arrival at Antigua was received; though not before Mrs. Norris had been indulging in very dreadful fears; and as she depended on being the first person to learn of any catastrophe, she had already arranged the manner of breaking it to all the others, when Sir Thomas's assurances of their being alive and well made it necessary to lay by preparatory speeches for a while.

  The winter passed without their being called for; the accounts continued perfectly good; and Mrs. Norris, in promoting gaieties for her nieces, displaying their accomplishments, and looking about for their future husbands, had very little time to fear for the absent.

  The Miss Bertrams were now fully established among the neighbourhood’s belles; and as they joined to beauty and brilliant acquirements a manner naturally easy and civil, they gained favour as well as admiration. Their vanity was in such good order that they seemed to be quite free from it, and gave themselves no airs; while the praises secured and brought round by their aunt strengthened them in believing they had no faults.

  Lady Bertram was too indolent to go into public with her daughters. The charge was made over to her sister, who thoroughly relished the means it afforded her of mixing in society without having horses to hire.

  Fanny had no share in the season’s festivities; but she enjoyed being useful as her aunt's companion; and, as Miss Lee had left Mansfield, she naturally became everything to Lady Bertram during the night of a party. She talked to her, listened to her, read to her; and the tranquillity of such evenings was unspeakably welcome to her mind. As to her cousins' gaieties, she loved to hear an account of them, especially of the balls, and whom Edmund had danced with; but never imagined she should ever be admitted to the same. It was a comfortable winter to her; for though it brought no William to England, the never-failing hope of his arrival was worth much.

  The spring deprived her of her friend, the old grey pony; and she was in danger of feeling the loss in her health as well as in her affections; for despite the acknowledged importance of her riding, no measures were taken for mounting her again, "because," as her aunts observed, "she might ride her cousins' horses at any time when they did not want them." As the Miss Bertrams wanted their horses every fine day, and had no idea of sacrificing any real pleasure, that time never came. They took their cheerful rides in the fine mornings of April and May; and Fanny either sat at home all day with one aunt, or walked beyond her strength at the instigation of the other: Lady Bertram holding exercise to be unnecessary; and Mrs. Norris thinking everybody ought to walk all day, as she did.

  Edmund was absent; but when he returned and saw how Fanny was affected, "Fanny must have a horse" was his resolute declaration. Mrs. Norris thought some steady old thing might be found at the Park that would do. She considered it as unnecessary, and even improper, that Fanny should have a lady's horse of her own, in the style of her cousins. She was sure Sir Thomas had never intended it: and to be adding to the great expenses of his stable, at a time when his income was unsettled, seemed to her unjustifiable.

  "Fanny must have a horse," was Edmund's only reply. Mrs. Norris could not see it in the same light. Lady Bertram agreed with her son; she only wanted him to wait till Sir Thomas's return, and then Sir Thomas might settle it himself. He would be at home in September, and where would be the harm of waiting till then?

  Edmund determined on a method of proceeding which would not cost too much. He had three horses of his own, but not one that would carry a woman. Two of them were hunters; the third, a useful road-horse: this third he exchanged for one that his cousin might ride. The whole business was soon completed. The new mare proved a treasure; and Fanny was put in possession of her. She had not supposed that anything could suit her like the old grey pony; but her delight in Edmund's mare was far beyond her former pleasure; and her appreciation of his kindness was beyond words. She regarded her cousin as an example of everything good and great, entitled to more gratitude than she could ever pay him. Her feelings towards him were all that was respectful, grateful, confiding, and tender.

  As the horse continued to be Edmund’s property, Mrs. Norris could tolerate its being for Fanny's use; and had Lady Bertram ever thought about the matter, she might have excused Edmund for not waiting till Sir Thomas's return, for when September came Sir Thomas was still abroad.

  Unfavourable circumstances had suddenly arisen; and the great uncertainty of his affairs determined him on sending home his son, and staying on by himself. Tom arrived safely, bringing an excellent account of his father's health; but Mrs. Norris could not help feeling dreadful presentiments; and as the long autumn evenings came on, was so terribly haunted by these ideas, in the sad solitariness of her cottage, as to be obliged to take daily refuge in the dining-room of the Park.

  The return of winter engagements, however, was not without effect; her mind became pleasantly occupied in superintending the fortunes of her eldest niece. "If poor Sir Thomas were never to return, it would be consoling to see dear Maria well married," she often thought; always when they were in the company of men of fortune, particularly one young man who had recently succeeded to one of the largest estates in the country.

  Mr. Rushworth was struck with the beauty of Miss Bertram, and, being inclined to marry, soon fancied himself in love. He was a heavy young man, with not more than common sense; but as there was nothing disagreeable in his address, the young lady was well pleased with her conquest. Being now in her twenty-first year, Maria Bertram was beginning to think that she ought to marry; and as marriage with Mr. Rushworth would give her the enjoyment of a larger income than her father's, as well as a house in town, it became her evident duty to marry Mr. Rushworth if she could.

  Mrs. Norris was zealous in promoting the match by every contrivance, and by seeking an intimacy with the gentleman's mother. It was not long before a good understanding took place between this lady and herself. Mrs. Rushworth desired that her son should marry, and declared that of all the young ladies she had seen, Miss Bertram seemed the best adapted to make him happy. Mrs. Norris accepted the compliment. Maria was indeed the pride and delight of them all—perfectly faultless—an angel; and, of course, surrounded by admirers: yet Mr. Rushworth appeared precisely the young man to attach her.

  After dancing with each other at a proper number of balls, the young people entered into an engagement, much to the satisfaction of their families, and of the general lookers-on of the neighbourhood.

  It was some months before Sir Thomas's consent could be received; but as no one doubted his pleasure, the two families met without restraint, and with no other attempt made at secrecy than Mrs. Norris's talking of it everywhere as a matter not to be talked of at present.

  Edmund was the only one who could see a fault in the business; he could not find Mr. Rushworth a desirable companion. He allowed his sister to be the best judge of her own happiness, but he was not pleased that her happiness should centre in a large income; nor could he refrain from often saying to himself, when he was in Mr. Rushworth's company—"If this man had not twelve thousand a year, he would be a very stupid fellow."

  Sir Thomas, however, was truly happy in the prospect of an alliance so advantageous. His hearty concurrence was conveyed as soon as possible. He only asked that the marriage should not take place before his return. He wrote in April, and had strong hopes of settling everything to his satisfaction, and leaving Antigua before the end of the summer.

  Such was the state of affairs in July; and Fanny had just reached her eighteenth year, when the village received an addition in the brother and sister of Mrs. Grant, a Mr. and Miss Crawford, the children of her mother by a second marriage.

  They were young people of fortune. The son had a good estate in Norfolk, the daughter twenty thousand pounds. As Mrs Grant’s own marriage had been soon followed by the death
of their common parent, she had scarcely seen them since. In their uncle's house they had found a kind home. Admiral and Mrs. Crawford, though agreeing in nothing else, were united in affection for these children. The Admiral delighted in the boy, Mrs. Crawford doted on the girl; and it was the lady's death which now obliged her protégée to find another home. Admiral Crawford was a man of vicious conduct, who chose to bring his mistress under his own roof; and Mrs. Grant’s sister proposed to come to her, a measure welcome on both sides; for Mrs. Grant was in want of some variety at home. The arrival, therefore, of a beloved sister was highly agreeable; and her chief anxiety was lest Mansfield should not satisfy a young woman who was used to London.

  Miss Crawford was not entirely free from similar apprehensions; and it was not till after she had tried in vain to persuade her brother to settle with her at his own country house, that she resolved to try her other relations. Henry Crawford had a great dislike of settling in one place; but he kindly escorted his sister into Northamptonshire, and as readily engaged to fetch her away again, at half an hour's notice, whenever she might be weary of it.

  The meeting was very satisfactory. Miss Crawford found a sister with refinement, a sister's husband who looked the gentleman, and a house commodious and well fitted up; and Mrs. Grant received a young man and woman of very prepossessing appearance. Mary Crawford was remarkably pretty; Henry, though not handsome, had air and countenance; the manners of both were lively and pleasant, and Mrs. Grant immediately gave them credit for everything else. She was delighted with each, but Mary was her dearest object; and having never been able to glory in beauty of her own, she thoroughly enjoyed being proud of her sister's. She had already looked out for a suitable match for her: she had fixed on Tom Bertram; the eldest son of a baronet was not too good for a girl of twenty thousand pounds with elegance and accomplishments; and since she was a warm-hearted, unreserved woman, Mary had not been three hours in the house before she told her what she had planned.

  Miss Crawford was glad to find a family of consequence so near them, and not at all displeased at her sister's choice. Matrimony was her object, provided she could marry well: and having seen Mr. Bertram in town, she knew that no objection could be made to his person. While she treated it as a joke, she did not forget to think of it seriously. The scheme was repeated to Henry.

  "And now," added Mrs. Grant, "I have thought of something to make it complete. I should dearly love to settle you both here; and therefore, Henry, you shall marry the youngest Miss Bertram, a nice, handsome, good-humoured girl, who will make you very happy."

  Henry bowed and thanked her.

  "My dear sister," said Mary, "if you can persuade him into anything of the sort, I shall be delighted. I have three friends who have been all dying for him in their turn; and the pains which they, their mothers, my dear aunt and myself, have taken to reason, coax, or trick him into marrying, is inconceivable! He is the most horrible flirt that can be imagined. If your Miss Bertrams do not like to have their hearts broke, let them avoid Henry."

  "My dear brother, I will not believe this."

  "No, I am sure you will be kinder than Mary. You will allow for the doubts of youth. I am cautious, and unwilling to risk my happiness in a hurry. Nobody can think more highly of matrimony than myself. I consider the blessing of a wife as most justly described by the poet—'Heaven's last best gift.'"

  "There, Mrs. Grant, you see how he dwells on one word, and only look at his smile. I assure you he is detestable; the Admiral's lessons have quite spoiled him."

  "I pay very little regard," said Mrs. Grant, "to what any young person says about marriage. If they profess a disinclination for it, I know that they have not yet seen the right person."

  Dr. Grant laughingly congratulated Miss Crawford on feeling no disinclination to the state herself.

  "Oh yes! I am not ashamed of it. I would have everybody marry if they can do it to advantage."

  CHAPTER 5