‘Nonsense! It can manage without you a little longer. What do you say, Mary?’
‘Yes, Henry, do stay,’ Mary urged, with the most pleasing sisterly affection.
‘I have nothing here...’ said Crawford.
‘What does that signify?’ said Dr Grant. ‘You can send for your hunters.’
‘Nothing would be easier,’ I said, thinking how lucky we would be to have another gentleman for company over the winter, especially one as well informed, and agreeable to the ladies, as Crawford.
‘And what say you, Miss Price?’ asked Crawford, turning to Fanny. I blessed him for bringing her forward, for she was inclined to be silent, overawed by so much company.
She flushed and said nothing.
‘Do you think this weather will last?’ he persevered.
‘I cannot say,’ she returned in confusion.
‘Should I send for my hunters?’
‘I really do not think I can give an opinion,’ she said.
‘Well, then,’ said Crawford, continuing with the breeding and kindness of a true gentleman, ‘do you think I should stay?’
‘It is not for me to say.’
‘But you would not dislike it?’
‘No,’ she said, when pressed. ‘I should not dislike it.’
‘Then it is settled.’
He smiled at her, and Fanny managed a small smile in return, and though it was no more than civility demanded I was glad she had managed so much.
My sisters were, of course, mentioned. After dinner, Crawford spoke of Maria’s marriage, saying, ‘Rushworth and his fair bride are at Brighton, I understand?’
Mary drew Fanny into the conversation with quite as much kindness as her brother, saying,
‘Yes, they have been there about a fortnight, Miss Price, have they not? And Julia is with them.’
‘How we miss them. You were Mr. Rushworth’s best friend,’ he said to Fanny. ‘Your kindness and patience can never be forgotten, your indefatigable patience in trying to make it possible for him to learn his part. He might not have sense enough to estimate your kindness, but I may venture to say that it had honor from all the rest of the party.’
I smiled to see her so well entertained, and by such an agreeable man. I was about to speak to Mary when Dr Grant claimed my attention.
‘About your living, Edmund,’ he said. ‘You will be ordained at Christmas, I believe?’
‘Yes, that is so. I will be going to stay with my friend Owen and we will be ordained together.’
‘And you will then come into the living. well, it is not a bad living, the one at Thornton Lacey...?’
‘Seven hundred pounds a year.’
‘Just so. Not a bad living. But it could be improved.’
He gave me the benefit of his advice, and once we had finished our discussion, Crawford said, ‘I shall make a point of coming to Mansfield to hear you preach your first sermon. I shall come on purpose to encourage a young beginner. When is it to be? Miss Price, will not you join me in encouraging your cousin? will not you engage to attend with your eyes steadily fixed on him the whole time — as I shall do — not to lose a word; or only looking off just to note down any sentence preeminently beautiful? We will provide ourselves with tablets and a pencil. When will it be? You must preach at Mansfield, you know,’ he said to me, ‘that Sir Thomas and Lady Bertram may hear you.’
‘I shall keep clear of you, Crawford, as long as I can,’ I said with a wry smile, for he would be sure to disconcert me.
The party broke up, and I am persuaded Fanny enjoyed her evening in company, and will have many more such evenings to come.
DECEMBER
Friday 2 December
Business taking me up to town, I called in to the jewelers and ordered a gold chain for Fanny. Now that she is going out and about she will need some adornment, and it will give me great pleasure to give her such a gift. I looked at a variety but in the end I chose a simple chain so that she will be able to wear it on any occasion. I asked for it to be shortened as it was rather long for her and I was told it would not be ready until I had left town. When I called on Tom, I asked him if he would collect it for me. He promised to do so, and to send it on to me at Mansfield.
He was in good spirits. He asked me if I had proposed to Mary yet, and when I shook my head he said I was making slow work of it.
‘I want to find you all married the next time I come home: you, Fanny, Julia — and Aunt Norris!’
I could not get a serious word out of him, but it was good to see him again, all the same.
Monday 5 December
Fanny and I dined at the Parsonage again this evening, and on Fanny happening to mention her brother, Crawford continued to draw her out by asking her all about him.
‘William is on the Antwerp, you say?’ he asked, drawing his chair closer to hers.
‘Yes,’ said Fanny.
‘And you are longing to see him again, no doubt,’ he said with a smile. ‘You have been parted for a very long time.’
‘Oh, I have. I would like to see him again above anything. I wish I knew when he was coming home.’
‘I will ask my uncle. Admiral Crawford will know, or if he does not, then some of his connections at the Admiralty will be able to find it out. The Antwerp is in the Mediterranean, you say?’
‘Yes, or at least it was, the last time I heard.’
‘Well, it is not so very far from there to here. I am sure he will be home again soon. will you see him when he is?’
‘I hope so.’
‘And so do I, for I can tell how much you miss him.’
They continued in similar vein, and I thought how very good it was of Crawford to take such an interest in William, for if there was anything guaranteed to please Fanny, it was someone’s taking an interest in her brother.
I said as much to Mary, who remarked satirically, ‘Oh yes, Henry is always able to please young ladies.’
‘And I...’ I caught myself, as she looked at me expectantly, and I realized I had almost asked if I could please them, too... ‘will be very glad to see William, too.’
‘Ah, yes, I am sure you must be longing for a visit from him quite as much as Fanny,’ she said, laughing at me.
I was bewitched, and wondered again if I had any chance of being accepted by her. If her smiles were anything to the point, then yes. But if her professions of a desire to be rich were to be taken seriously, then no.
I was no closer to understanding her when the evening came to an end.
Tuesday 6 December
As sometimes happens in life, talking about a thing has brought it on, for Fanny had a letter from William this morning.
‘Well, Fanny, are you not going to tell us your news?’ I asked her, as I saw her bright eyes, and knew it must be good. ‘Do not keep us in suspense!’
‘The Antwerp has returned. William is home!’
‘I wondered why the letter was so short!’ I said with a smile. She smiled back at me, for William’s letters are usually exceedingly long.
‘He had time for no more than a few lines, written as he was coming up the Channel. He sent the letter in to Portsmouth with the first boat that left the Antwerp when she lay at anchor.’
‘The first boat? I would expect nothing less!’
‘That is very good news,’ said my father kindly. ‘You will like to see him, I am sure. There will be no difficulty in his obtaining a leave of absence.’
‘No, none at all. It is one of the advantages of being a midshipman, ’ she agreed.
‘Then we must invite him here. Fanny, you must write to him. I will dictate the letter myself.’
Fanny furnished herself with pen and paper, and I could not help remembering the first letter she had written to William, blotted with tears, and strangely spelt. As I watched her even hand flow over the paper, I thought how much she had grown, not just in stature but in person, and how graceful she had become over the years.