Edmund Bertram's Diary Page 4

  Fanny heroical y distracted my aunt’s attention, al owing us to pass the rest of the evening without any further visions fit for one of Mrs. Radcliffe’s novels.

  DECEMBER

  Wednesday 31 December

  The last day of the year, and nothing terrible has happened. Papa has not been shipwrecked, nor has he drowned in a storm, nor been eaten by a whale. And I have managed to maintain the estate and family without them suffering any calamities either, for which I am truly thankful. I was able to write to Papa today and tel him that the estate is flourishing; that Maria and Julia are fast becoming the bel es of the neighborhood; and that Fanny’s strength is improving by virtue of her daily rides. I gave him news of Mama and Aunt Norris, and sent him my best wishes for his affairs in Antigua.

  I have survived the year, and I only hope I can survive the next one, so that I can hand both estate and family back to my father and turn my attention to my own life again.

  1807

  MAY

  Wednesday 27 May

  I am beset with problems on every side. Having just returned from my dealings with the bank in London I found that Fanny’s grey pony had died, and that neither Mama nor Aunt Norris had thought of buying her another one. I said at once that I meant to rectify the situation, only to find myself blocked at every turn.

  ‘There is no need to buy a pony just for Fanny. I am sure she does not expect it,’ said my aunt, as though that justified the omission.

  Mama said she might borrow Maria’s horse, or Julia’s, but on enquiring, I found out that my sisters’ horses were never free in fine weather, and of what use would it be for Fanny to ride in the rain?

  ‘That is true,’ said Mama.

  ‘But there is no need to buy something especial y,’ said my aunt. ‘There must be an old thing among the horses belonging to the Park that would do. Why, I am sure Fanny could borrow one from the steward whenever she wanted one. That would be a much better solution.’

  ‘No young lady of Mansfield Park wil ride a steward’s horse,’ I told her. She switched to another tack, saying my father would not want her to have one.

  ‘Indeed, it would be improper for Fanny, situated as she is, to have a young lady’s horse, quite as though she were a daughter of the house,’ said my aunt. ‘The distinctions of rank must be preserved. Sir Thomas himself said so. It would not do to let Fanny get above herself.’

  ‘Fanny is the last person in the world who would ever get above herself. Besides, she must have a horse. Do you not agree?’ I appealed to Mama.

  ‘Oh, yes, to be sure, she must have a horse. As soon as Sir Thomas comes home she must have one. Only leave it to him, Edmund. Your father wil know what to do, and it is not so very long until September, when he returns.’

  ‘It is four months, and Fanny cannot go without her exercise for so long, particularly in the summer months.’

  ‘Your father would not agree with the idea, I am sure,’ said my aunt, shaking her head, ‘and to be making such a purchase, with his money, in his absence, when his affairs are unsettled seems to me to be a very wrong thing. It is not only the expense of the purchase, but the expense of keeping the animal.’

  Against my wil , I found myself agreeing with her. My father’s last letter spoke of ever dwindling profits, and I could tel how worried he was.

  I was at a stand, and I walked over to the window, displeased. I was determined to secure to Fanny the pleasure of regular outings, but I could not see how to do it, until, glancing across the park, I saw my own horses being given their exercise. I immediately saw a way round the problem.

  ‘I must give Fanny one of my horses,’ I said.

  ‘There is no need for you to inconvenience yourself, that would be quite wrong. You, a Bertram, and a son of the house, to give up one of your horses? I am sure Fanny would be the first to protest against it. Besides, your horses are not fit for a woman to ride. Two of them are hunters and the third is a road horse. They are al of them far too strong and spirited. Fanny would fal and break her neck, most likely,’ said Aunt Norris.

  Knowing she was right, I decided to exchange one of my horses for an animal that Fanny can ride. I know where one is to be met with, and I mean to look it over tomorrow.

  JUNE

  Monday 8 June

  I have been rewarded for my smal trouble by seeing Fanny so happy. The new mare suits her very wel .

  ‘I never thought anything could replace the old grey pony in my affections, but my delight in the mare is so far beyond my former pleasure . . . It is so good of you . . . I cannot express my gratitude.’

  ‘There is no need for gratitude between friends,’ I said, smiling. ‘It is enough for me to see you happy and wel . Shal we ride to the stone cross? Then we can discuss Shakespeare on the way. I have barely seen you since I returned from London, and I have had no one to discuss poetry with whilst I was away.’

  The summer afternoon was such as to encourage our taste for poetry and we returned in a happy mood, to while away the evening in the same manner.

  SEPTEMBER

  Saturday 12 September

  It is a good thing I did not wait for my father to come home before providing Fanny with a horse, for I had a letter from him this morning saying that his affairs are stil in such a state that he cannot come home until next year. I was not as alarmed by this as I would have been a few months ago, for I have learnt how to manage the estate and I believe it to be prospering. Friday 25 September

  We have al been thrown into an uproar, for Tom is home! He arrived late this afternoon, as careless and laughing as ever, but as brown as a nut, and with hair so bleached by the sun it resembled a piece of driftwood. He was barely recognizable, being slimmer and fitter than when he went away, with his eyes looking so green in the brown of his face that my aunt was moved to say that they looked like a pair of emeralds.

  ‘Al the better for wooing,’ said Tom merrily, catching her round the waist and spinning her round before putting her down, breathless.

  Mama bestirred herself so far as to leave the sofa and kiss him, and he repaid her with a kiss on the cheek. He delighted her by asking after Pug, who sat like a fat potentate on the sofa, and then turned his attention to Maria and Julia. They were pleased to see him, and eager to discover what was in the packages that had fol owed him into the room. He had brought presents for us al : exotic material for Mama and my aunt — ‘To make you some splendid new gowns. You wil be the talk of the neighborhood’ — fans and shoes for Maria and Julia, a pair of shoes for Fanny and a compass for me.

  ‘How is Sir Thomas?’ asked Mama, when she had seated herself once more on the sofa with Pug on her lap.

  ‘Very wel .’

  ‘It is a terrible thing for him to be so far from home. I wished he would not go, but he said he must, and there was an end of it. I do not like to think of him in al that heat, on his own. He wil miss us al dreadful y.’

  ‘He scarcely has time. There is plenty to do, and he is busy from morning ’til night.’

  ‘How are his affairs?’ I asked.

  ‘Lord knows. I could not make head nor tail of them. Sugar plantations are a mystery to me. Now horses . . .’

  ‘You have not been gambling again, Tom?’ asked Aunt Norris.

  ‘No. I have promised my father not to bet on another card or horse — at least until his affairs are settled!’ he added.

  ‘Impudent boy!’ said Aunt Norris indulgently. ‘But, were it not for the joy you bring us by returning like this, I cannot help thinking that it must bode il for Sir Thomas,’ she went on, shaking her head. ‘Indeed, it is a singularly bad portent. It is so like Sir Thomas to send you home if he had a foreboding of evil. I have a terrible presentiment that something dreadful is about to occur.’

  Mama was beginning to look worried, and stir anxiously on the sofa, so Fanny put an end to my aunt’s woeful imaginings by saying to Tom, ‘Tel us about Antigua.’

  Tom was only too happy to talk, for he was ful of energy
and liveliness.

  ‘It was hot,’ he began. ‘Very hot. You would not believe the heat, little Fanny. Not al your hats and fans and parasols would keep you cool. I believe the ladies there were made from less pliable material than those at home, for they bore it wel , and managed to walk around with only a little droop, instead of melting like candles.’

  ‘And were there any bal s?’ asked Maria.

  ‘Not in al that heat,’ said Mama.

  ‘Nothing would stop me dancing,’ said Julia. ‘Tel us about them, Tom.’

  ‘Oh, they were the usual sort of thing, you know,’ he said carelessly.

  ‘You have been breaking hearts, I warrant,’ said my aunt, putting her presentiments aside for the moment and joining in with the more agreeable conversation.

  ‘There were so many to break, it would have been ungentlemanly not to.’

  ‘Tom!’ protested Mama.

  ‘There is nothing the young ladies like better than the son of an English planter, and I could not disappoint them by refusing to flirt with them.’

  ‘Especial y not as you are such a fine young man,’ said my aunt. Maria and Julia pul ed faces behind Tom’s back at this, whilst Fanny looked at her new shoes; a fine pair, but two sizes too smal .

  ‘The men were gentlemen, I hope?’ asked my aunt.

  ‘Lord, yes.’

  ‘Though not what we are used to over here, I suppose. Maria and Julia have been attracting a great deal of attention whilst you have been away. They are the bel es of the neighborhood. Al the young men are eager to dance with them, and if Mr. Rushworth does not propose to Maria by Christmas I wil be very much surprised.’

  Maria looked conscious, and Julia retaliated by saying that the young men roundabout were dul .

  ‘He is very taken with your sister,’ went on my aunt, as though Julia had not spoken. ‘And what a fine man he is, with a good face and figure, charming manners and a house in town. His fortune is sizeable, too, for he has twelve thousand a year.’

  ‘Then it is no wonder that Maria likes him,’ said Tom with a sly look. Maria blushed.

  ‘I am sure Mr. Rushworth has no thought of proposing,’ she said, tossing her head.

  ‘And I am sure he has,’ was my aunt’s rejoinder.

  I could get nothing more out of Tom about Antigua for he said he must dance, and before long we were al doing some of the steps he had learnt in the Indies. Even Mama was persuaded to dance, whilst my aunt played, and Pug sat on the sofa and watched us al .

  OCTOBER

  Thursday 22 October

  The winter evenings have had enough bal s even to satisfy my sisters, and Aunt Norris is now determined to see them wel married.

  ‘Maria is twenty now, and of an age to be married,’ she said to me as we sat in the drawingroom this evening. ‘And Julia, too, is not far behind. What a thing it would be if we could find suitable matches for them both before your father returns. I am sure Mr. Rushworth wants only a little encouragement to offer for Maria, and there are several young men who seem remarkably fond of Julia. And if poor Sir Thomas fails to return,’ she added, for she has stil not despaired of him being shipwrecked, or lost overboard, ‘it wil be a consolation to see Maria married, and to know that he would have approved.’

  But no young men offered for my sisters tonight, despite my aunt’s hopes. We returned to find Fanny sitting peaceful y with Mama. She looked up as I entered the room, an eager smile on her face, for though she is too young for bal s, she loves to hear of them. I sat by her for half an hour and told her al about our evening. She wanted to know every dance I had danced, and with whom; and when I had done, I told her I was looking forward to standing up with her at her first bal , as soon as Mama thought she was old enough to at end. She looked at the floor, reminding me how young she was, for even the smal est compliment discomposes her. Perhaps it is a good thing she does not go into company, after al .

  1808

  JANUARY

  Monday 11 January

  It seems my aunt’s fondest wishes are about to be fulfil ed, for Maria has received an offer of marriage from Mr. Rushworth.

  ‘Such a nice man,’ said my aunt. ‘He has such a way with him; such manners, and such—’

  ‘—a large property,’ finished Tom.

  My aunt perceived no irony in Tom’s comment, but replied with, ‘Very true, it is a fine property. One of the best in the country, and then there is his house in town as wel . Maria is a very lucky girl to have attracted such a man, with everything in his favor: his home, his fortune and his person. I only hope the rest of you wil marry as wel . Julia, we wil have to look about us and find another such a one for you.’ She turned to Maria. ‘We must have an early wedding.’

  ‘Sir Thomas’s permission must first be sought,’ said Mama, rousing herself a little as she lay on the chaise longue.

  ‘He wil be very pleased, mark my words. What, to find his daughter affianced to such a man as Mr. Rushworth? To be sure, he wil be delighted. A spring wedding would be very fine,’ said my aunt. ‘Dr Grant must perform the ceremony, for I am sure he does little enough since he bought the Mansfield living. And if you have an early wedding, you wil be able to go to London for the Season, Maria. With such a fine house in town, it would be a pity not to make use of it this year.’

  Maria was soon making plans with my aunt, and saying that she would invite Julia to spend the Season with her, so that she, too, could find a husband.

  ‘You must invite Fanny,’ I said. ‘She would enjoy the theatres and the gal eries. Would you not, Fanny?’

  ‘I am sure it is more than she looks for,’ said my aunt ungraciously, before Fanny had time to reply. ‘There is no need to invite her.’

  ‘I have no objection to it,’ said Maria. ‘Fanny wil be very welcome, only she is too young this year. But next year, Fanny, you must come and stay. You wil be eighteen then, and of an age to enjoy everything.’

  Fanny was al gratitude, and I liked to think of her having her share of the pleasure.

  ‘And Tom, you must visit your sister, too,’ said my aunt. ‘I am sure she wil find you an heiress, someone with twenty or thirty thousand pounds, and a beauty besides.’

  Tom laughed, and said he had no intention of marrying for at least another twenty years, whereupon my aunt remarked that it must be up to me, then, to make an advantageous marriage.

  As the conversation continued I could not help but be grateful that it was not up to me to give or withhold my consent to Maria’s marriage. I have little liking for Rushworth. Indeed, if he did not have twelve thousand a year I would think him a very stupid fel ow.

  ‘Maria,’ I said to her, cal ing her aside this evening. ‘Are you sure you wish to marry Rushworth?

  Just because he has asked for your hand, does not mean you have to give it, you know. I am not happy about the match, I must confess. Rushworth seems to be a very dul fel ow. Are you sure you have not been blinded to his faults by his fortune and his house in town? They are very desirable, I am sure, but is marriage to Rushworth a price worth paying for them? Do anything rather than marry without love, for that way great unhappiness lies.’

  ‘Oh, Edmund, you do prose on. Of course I love him.’

  ‘But you have seen very little of him, except at bal s.’

  ‘I have seen quite enough of him, I assure you.’

  I was not convinced I liked this answer, and told her so.

  ‘I want you to be happy,’ I said.

  ‘And I wil be.’

  ‘If I could be sure—’

  ‘You must own me to be the best judge of my happiness,’ she said impatiently, ‘and I tel you I wil be.’

  With this I had to be content.

  ‘Very wel . Then I wil write to Papa tomorrow,’ I told her, but I did so with a heavy heart. It lightened somewhat when I talked the matter over with Fanny, for, as she reminded me, my father wil no doubt say the marriage cannot take place without him. And that when he returns, he wil be able to decide w
hether Maria is truly attached to Mr. Rushworth or not.

  JULY

  Friday 1 July

  I wrote to my father this morning and I was just sending the letter when my aunt entered the drawing-room. She had visited the Grants to give them a hint of Maria’s nuptials and had returned from the Parsonage with some news.

  ‘One wedding brings on another. It seems you wil not have to go to London in search of an heiress after al ,’ she said portentously to Tom. ‘We are to have an addition to the neighborhood, or rather, two additions. Mrs. Grant’s brother and sister — her mother’s children by a second marriage — wil soon be joining her. It is a sad tale. Their parents died some time ago, whereupon they went to live with an aunt and uncle, but now their aunt has died, too, and as their uncle proposes to move his mistress into the house, they do not feel they can stay with him any longer, and so they are to come here.’

  ‘Shocking,’ said Mama placidly, as she played with Pug. ‘I am sure Sir Thomas would never approve of such a thing.’

  ‘But although it may be unfortunate for Mr. and Miss Crawford, it is likely to be a good thing for us,’ said my aunt. ‘Miss Crawford is a considerable heiress, with twenty thousand pounds, and Mrs. Grant assures me she is as elegant as she is accomplished, being a beauty besides.’

  ‘How is that good for us?’ Tom teased my aunt.

  ‘Why, because you can marry her,’ she replied.

  Tom was stil laughing at the notion as we went out for a ride this afternoon.

  ‘I think you should marry Miss Crawford,’ he said to me,

  ‘in fact I have a mind to promote the match. I promised Papa that I would make it up to you for losing you the Mansfield living; and as the new incumbent, Dr Grant, is refusing to die of an apoplexy as I hoped he would, so that the living would revert to you, then a good marriage is the quickest way to ensure your prosperity.’