Fanny's rides recommenced the very next day; and as it was cooler, Edmund trusted that her loss of health would be soon made good. While she was gone Mr. Rushworth arrived, escorting his mother, who came to urge them to visit Sotherton, as planned. Mrs. Norris and her nieces were well pleased, and an early day was agreed, provided Mr. Crawford should be free: and on a hint from Miss Bertram, Mr. Rushworth decided to walk down to the Parsonage directly, and call on Mr. Crawford, and inquire whether Wednesday would suit him.
Before his return Mrs. Grant and Miss Crawford came in. Having taken a different route to the house, they had not met him; but they hoped that he would find Mr. Crawford at home. The Sotherton scheme was mentioned of course. Mrs. Norris was in high spirits about it; and Mrs. Rushworth, a well-meaning, civil, prosing, pompous woman, was still pressing Lady Bertram to join the group. Lady Bertram constantly declined; but her placid manner of refusal made Mrs. Rushworth still think she wished to come, till Mrs. Norris convinced her of the truth.
"The fatigue would be too much for my sister, my dear Mrs. Rushworth. Ten miles there, and ten back, you know. You must accept our two dear girls and myself without her. She will have a companion in Fanny Price; and as for Edmund, I will answer for his being most happy to join the party. He can go on horseback, you know."
Mrs. Rushworth was sorry. "She should have been extremely happy to have seen her Ladyship, and Miss Price, who had never been at Sotherton yet."
"You are all kindness, my dear madam," cried Mrs. Norris; "but Fanny will have opportunities in plenty of seeing Sotherton. Her going now is out of the question. Lady Bertram could not possibly spare her."
"Oh no! I cannot do without Fanny."
Mrs. Rushworth proceeded next to invite Miss Crawford; and Mary was swift to accept. Mr. Rushworth came back from the Parsonage successful; and Edmund made his appearance just in time to learn what had been settled for Wednesday, to attend Mrs. Rushworth to her carriage, and walk half-way down the park with the two other ladies.
On his return to the breakfast-room, he found Mrs. Norris trying to decide whether Miss Crawford's being of the party were desirable, or whether her brother's barouche would not be full without her. The Miss Bertrams laughed, assuring her that the barouche would hold four perfectly well, independent of the box, on which one might go with him.
"But why should only Crawford’s carriage be employed?" said Edmund. "Why is no use to be made of my mother's chaise?"
"What!" cried Julia: "go boxed up in a postchaise in this weather, when we may have seats in a barouche!"
"Besides," said Maria, "I know that Mr. Crawford depends upon taking us."
"And, my dear Edmund," added Mrs. Norris, "to take two carriages when one will do, would be trouble for nothing; and coachman always complains of the narrow lanes to Sotherton scratching his carriage, and one should not like to have dear Sir Thomas, when he comes home, find all the varnish scratched off."
"That would not be a very handsome reason for using Mr. Crawford's," said Maria; "but the truth is, that Wilcox is a stupid old fellow, and does not know how to drive. I will answer for it that we shall find no inconvenience from narrow roads on Wednesday."
"There will be nothing unpleasant, I suppose," said Edmund, "in going on the barouche box."
"Unpleasant!" cried Maria: "It would be generally thought the favourite seat, for one's view of the country. Probably Miss Crawford will choose the barouche-box herself."
"There can be no objection, then, to Fanny's going with you; there can be no doubt of your having room."
"Fanny!" repeated Mrs. Norris; "my dear Edmund, there is no idea of her going with us. She stays with her aunt. I told Mrs. Rushworth so. She is not expected."
"If you could do without her, madam," said he, addressing his mother, "you would not wish to keep her at home?"
"To be sure not, but I cannot do without her."
"You can, if I stay at home with you."
There was a general cry out at this. "Yes," he continued, "there is no necessity for my going. Fanny has a great desire to see Sotherton. She has not often a gratification of the kind, and I am sure, ma'am, you would be glad to give her the pleasure now?"
"Oh yes! very glad, if your aunt sees no objection."
Mrs. Norris was very ready with her objection—their having positively assured Mrs. Rushworth that Fanny could not go, and the very strange appearance there would be in taking her, which seemed to her a difficulty quite impossible to be got over. It would show such disrespect for Mrs. Rushworth, that she really did not feel equal to it. Her opposition to Edmund arose more from partiality for her own scheme, because it was her own, than from anything else. When Edmund, therefore, told her that he had mentioned Miss Price to Mrs Rushworth, and had received an invitation for her, Mrs. Norris was too much vexed to submit with grace, and would only say, "Very well, settle it your own way."
"It seems very odd," said Maria, "that you should be staying at home instead of Fanny."
"I am sure she ought to be very much obliged to you," added Julia, conscious that she ought to offer to stay at home herself.
"Fanny will feel quite as grateful as the occasion requires," was Edmund's only reply.
Fanny's gratitude, when she heard the plan, was, in fact, much greater than her pleasure. She felt Edmund's kindness more than he, unsuspicious of her fond attachment, could be aware of; but that he should forego any enjoyment gave her pain, and her own satisfaction in seeing Sotherton would be nothing without him.
The next meeting of the Mansfield families produced another alteration in the plan. Mrs. Grant offered herself as companion for the day to Lady Bertram. Lady Bertram was very well pleased, and even Edmund was thankful for an arrangement which restored him to the party; while Mrs. Norris thought it an excellent plan, and had been on the point of proposing it herself.
Wednesday was fine, and soon after breakfast the barouche arrived, Mr. Crawford driving his sisters. When Mrs Grant alighted, everybody was ready to take their places. The place of all places, the envied seat, was vacant. To whose happy lot was it to fall? While each of the Miss Bertrams were meditating how to secure it, the matter was settled by Mrs. Grant's saying, "One of you should sit with Henry; and as you were saying lately that you wished you could drive, Julia, this will be a good opportunity for you to take a lesson."
Happy Julia! Unhappy Maria! The former was on the barouche-box in a moment, the latter took her seat within, in gloom and mortification; and the carriage drove off.
Their road was through a pleasant country; and Fanny, whose rides had never been extensive, was very happy in observing all that was new and pretty. She was not often invited to join in the conversation, nor did she desire it. Her own thoughts were habitually her best companions; and, in observing the appearance of the country, the state of the harvest, the cottages, the cattle and the children, she found entertainment that could only have been heightened by having Edmund to discuss it with.
That was the only point of resemblance between her and the lady who sat by her: in everything but a value for Edmund, Miss Crawford was very unlike her. She had none of Fanny's delicacy of feeling; she saw Nature with little observation; her attention was all for men and women, her talents for the light and lively. In looking back after Edmund, however, when there was any stretch of road behind them, they were united, and a "there he is" broke at the same moment from them both.
For the first seven miles Miss Bertram had very little comfort: her prospect always ended in Mr. Crawford and her sister sitting side by side, full of conversation and merriment; a perpetual source of irritation, which her sense of propriety could only just smooth over. Julia looked back, smiling, and spoke in the highest spirits: "her view of the country was charming, she wished they could all see it," etc.; but her only offer of exchange was addressed to Miss Crawford: "I wish you had my seat, but I dare say you will not take it, let me press you ever so much." Miss Crawford could hardly answer before they were moving again.
When they
came nearer to Sotherton, it was better for Miss Bertram, who might be said to have two strings to her bow. She had Rushworth feelings, and Crawford feelings, and in the vicinity of Sotherton the former had considerable effect. She could not tell Miss Crawford that "those woods belonged to Sotherton," she could not carelessly observe that "she believed that it was now all Mr. Rushworth's property on each side of the road," without elation of heart; and it was a pleasure to increase with their approach to the mansion.
"Now we shall have no more rough road, Miss Crawford; the rest of the way is as it ought to be. Mr. Rushworth has improved it since he succeeded to the estate. Here begins the village. Those cottages are really a disgrace. The church spire is reckoned remarkably handsome. There is the parsonage: a tidy-looking house, and I understand the clergyman and his wife are very decent people. To the right is the steward's house; he is a very respectable man. Now we are coming to the lodge-gates; but we have nearly a mile through the park still. There is some fine timber, but the situation of the house is dreadful. We go down hill to it for half a mile; it would not be an ill-looking place if it had a better approach."
Miss Crawford was not slow to admire; she guessed Miss Bertram's feelings, and made it a point of honour to promote her enjoyment to the utmost. Mrs. Norris was all delight; and even Fanny had something to say in admiration. Her eye was eagerly taking in everything; and she asked, "Where is the avenue? It must be at the back of the house."
"Yes, it is behind the house, and ascends for half a mile. It is oak entirely."
Miss Bertram could now speak with decided information of what she had known nothing about when Mr. Rushworth had asked her opinion; and her spirits were in as happy a flutter as pride could furnish, when they drove up to the spacious stone steps before the principal entrance.
CHAPTER 9
Jane Austen's Mansfield Park: Abridged Page 8
