Chapter IV

by Jane Austen

　　Tom Bertram had of late spent so little of his time athome that he could be only nominally missed; and LadyBertram was soon astonished to find how very well theydid even without his father, how well Edmund couldsupply his place in carving, talking to the steward,writing to the attorney, settling with the servants,and equally saving her from all possible fatigue or exertionin every particular but that of directing her letters.The earliest intelligence of the travellers' safe arrivalat Antigua, after a favourable voyage, was received;though not before Mrs. Norris had been indulging in verydreadful fears, and trying to make Edmund participate themwhenever she could get him alone; and as she dependedon being the first person made acquainted with anyfatal catastrophe, she had already arranged the manner ofbreaking it to all the others, when Sir Thomas's assurancesof their both being alive and well made it necessary to layby her agitation and affectionate preparatory speeches for a while.The winter came and passed without their beingcalled for; the accounts continued perfectly good;and Mrs. Norris, in promoting gaieties for her nieces,assisting their toilets, displaying their accomplishments,and looking about for their future husbands, had so muchto do as, in addition to all her own household cares,some interference in those of her sister, and Mrs. Grant'swasteful doings to overlook, left her very little occasionto be occupied in fears for the absent.The Miss Bertrams were now fully established among thebelles of the neighbourhood; and as they joined to beautyand brilliant acquirements a manner naturally easy,and carefully formed to general civility and obligingness,they possessed its favour as well as its admiration.Their vanity was in such good order that they seemedto be quite free from it, and gave themselves no airs;while the praises attending such behaviour, secured andbrought round by their aunt, served to strengthen them inbelieving they had no faults.Lady Bertram did not go into public with her daughters.She was too indolent even to accept a mother's gratificationin witnessing their success and enjoyment at the expenseof any personal trouble, and the charge was made overto her sister, who desired nothing better than a postof such honourable representation, and very thoroughlyrelished the means it afforded her of mixing in societywithout having horses to hire.Fanny had no share in the festivities of the season;but she enjoyed being avowedly useful as her aunt's companionwhen they called away the rest of the family; and, as MissLee had left Mansfield, she naturally became everythingto Lady Bertram during the night of a ball or a party.She talked to her, listened to her, read to her;and the tranquillity of such evenings, her perfect securityin such a _tete-a-tete_ from any sound of unkindness,was unspeakably welcome to a mind which had seldomknown a pause in its alarms or embarrassments. As toher cousins' gaieties, she loved to hear an account of them,especially of the balls, and whom Edmund had danced with;but thought too lowly of her own situation to imagineshe should ever be admitted to the same, and listened,therefore, without an idea of any nearer concern in them.Upon the whole, it was a comfortable winter to her;for though it brought no William to England, the never-failinghope of his arrival was worth much.The ensuing spring deprived her of her valued friend,the old grey pony; and for some time she was in danger offeeling the loss in her health as well as in her affections;for in spite of the acknowledged importance of her ridingon horse-back, no measures were taken for mountingher again, "because," as it was observed by her aunts,"she might ride one of her cousin's horses at any timewhen they did not want them," and as the Miss Bertramsregularly wanted their horses every fine day, and had noidea of carrying their obliging manners to the sacrificeof any real pleasure, that time, of course, never came.They took their cheerful rides in the fine morningsof April and May; and Fanny either sat at home the wholeday with one aunt, or walked beyond her strength at theinstigation of the other: Lady Bertram holding exerciseto be as unnecessary for everybody as it was unpleasantto herself; and Mrs. Norris, who was walking all day,thinking everybody ought to walk as much. Edmund was absentat this time, or the evil would have been earlier remedied.When he returned, to understand how Fanny was situated,and perceived its ill effects, there seemed with him butone thing to be done; and that "Fanny must have a horse"was the resolute declaration with which he opposedwhatever could be urged by the supineness of his mother,or the economy of his aunt, to make it appear unimportant.Mrs. Norris could not help thinking that some steadyold thing might be found among the numbers belongingto the Park that would do vastly well; or that one mightbe borrowed of the steward; or that perhaps Dr. Grantmight now and then lend them the pony he sent to the post.She could not but consider it as absolutely unnecessary,and even improper, that Fanny should have a regularlady's horse of her own, in the style of her cousins.She was sure Sir Thomas had never intended it: and shemust say that, to be making such a purchase in his absence,and adding to the great expenses of his stable,at a time when a large part of his income was unsettled,seemed to her very unjustifiable. "Fanny must havea horse," was Edmund's only reply. Mrs. Norris couldnot see it in the same light. Lady Bertram did:she entirely agreed with her son as to the necessity of it,and as to its being considered necessary by his father;she only pleaded against there being any hurry; she onlywanted him to wait till Sir Thomas's return, and then SirThomas might settle it all himself. He would be at homein September, and where would be the harm of only waitingtill September?Though Edmund was much more displeased with his aunt thanwith his mother, as evincing least regard for her niece,he could not help paying more attention to what she said;and at length determined on a method of proceedingwhich would obviate the risk of his father's thinking hehad done too much, and at the same time procure for Fannythe immediate means of exercise, which he could not bearshe should be without. He had three horses of his own,but not one that would carry a woman. Two of themwere hunters; the third, a useful road-horse: this third heresolved to exchange for one that his cousin might ride;he knew where such a one was to be met with; and having oncemade up his mind, the whole business was soon completed.The new mare proved a treasure; with a very littletrouble she became exactly calculated for the purpose,and Fanny was then put in almost full possession of her.She had not supposed before that anything could ever suither like the old grey pony; but her delight in Edmund'smare was far beyond any former pleasure of the sort;and the addition it was ever receiving in the considerationof that kindness from which her pleasure sprung,was beyond all her words to express. She regardedher cousin as an example of everything good and great,as possessing worth which no one but herself couldever appreciate, and as entitled to such gratitudefrom her as no feelings could be strong enough to pay.Her sentiments towards him were compounded of all thatwas respectful, grateful, confiding, and tender.As the horse continued in name, as well as fact,the property of Edmund, Mrs. Norris could tolerate its beingfor Fanny's use; and had Lady Bertram ever thought abouther own objection again, he might have been excused in hereyes for not waiting till Sir Thomas's return in September,for when September came Sir Thomas was still abroad,and without any near prospect of finishing his business.Unfavourable circumstances had suddenly arisen at a momentwhen he was beginning to turn all his thoughts towards England;and the very great uncertainty in which everything was theninvolved determined him on sending home his son, and waitingthe final arrangement by himself Tom arrived safely,bringing an excellent account of his father's health;but to very little purpose, as far as Mrs. Norriswas concerned. Sir Thomas's sending away his son seemedto her so like a parent's care, under the influence of aforeboding of evil to himself, that she could not helpfeeling dreadful presentiments; and as the long eveningsof autumn came on, was so terribly haunted by these ideas,in the sad solitariness of her cottage, as to be obligedto take daily refuge in the dining-room of the Park.The return of winter engagements, however, was notwithout its effect; and in the course of their progress,her mind became so pleasantly occupied in superintendingthe fortunes of her eldest niece, as tolerably to quiether nerves. "If poor Sir Thomas were fated never to return,it would be peculiarly consoling to see their dear Mariawell married," she very often thought; always when theywere in the company of men of fortune, and particularly onthe introduction of a young man who had recently succeededto one of the largest estates and finest places in the country.Mr. Rushworth was from the first struck with the beautyof Miss Bertram, and, being inclined to marry, soon fanciedhimself in love. He was a heavy young man, with not morethan common sense; but as there was nothing disagreeablein his figure or address, the young lady was well pleasedwith her conquest. Being now in her twenty-first year,Maria Bertram was beginning to think matrimony a duty;and as a marriage with Mr. Rushworth would give her theenjoyment of a larger income than her father's, as well asensure her the house in town, which was now a prime object,it became, by the same rule of moral obligation,her evident duty to marry Mr. Rushworth if she could.Mrs. Norris was most zealous in promoting the match,by every suggestion and contrivance likely to enhanceits desirableness to either party; and, among other means,by seeking an intimacy with the gentleman's mother,who at present lived with him, and to whom she even forcedLady Bertram to go through ten miles of indifferent roadto pay a morning visit. It was not long before a goodunderstanding took place between this lady and herself.Mrs. Rushworth acknowledged herself very desirous thather son should marry, and declared that of all the youngladies she had ever seen, Miss Bertram seemed, by heramiable qualities and accomplishments, the best adaptedto make him happy. Mrs. Norris accepted the compliment,and admired the nice discernment of character whichcould so well distinguish merit. Maria was indeedthe pride and delight of them all--perfectly faultless--an angel; and, of course, so surrounded by admirers, must bedifficult in her choice: but yet, as far as Mrs. Norriscould allow herself to decide on so short an acquaintance,Mr. Rushworth appeared precisely the young man to deserveand attach her.After dancing with each other at a proper number of balls,the young people justified these opinions, and an engagement,with a due reference to the absent Sir Thomas, was entered into,much to the satisfaction of their respective families,and of the general lookers-on of the neighbourhood,who had, for many weeks past, felt the expediencyof Mr. Rushworth's marrying Miss Bertram.It was some months before Sir Thomas's consent couldbe received; but, in the meanwhile, as no one felta doubt of his most cordial pleasure in the connexion,the intercourse of the two families was carried onwithout restraint, and no other attempt made at secrecythan Mrs. Norris's talking of it everywhere as a matternot to be talked of at present.Edmund was the only one of the family who could see a faultin the business; but no representation of his aunt's couldinduce him to find Mr. Rushworth a desirable companion.He could allow his sister to be the best judge of herown happiness, but he was not pleased that her happinessshould centre in a large income; nor could he refrainfrom often saying to himself, in Mr. Rushworth's company--"If this man had not twelve thousand a year, he would bea very stupid fellow."Sir Thomas, however, was truly happy in the prospect of analliance so unquestionably advantageous, and of which heheard nothing but the perfectly good and agreeable.It was a connexion exactly of the right sort--in the same county, and the same interest--and his mosthearty concurrence was conveyed as soon as possible.He only conditioned that the marriage should not takeplace before his return, which he was again lookingeagerly forward to. He wrote in April, and had stronghopes of settling everything to his entire satisfaction,and leaving Antigua before the end of the summer.Such was the state of affairs in the month of July;and Fanny had just reached her eighteenth year, when thesociety of the village received an addition in the brotherand 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 goodestate in Norfolk, the daughter twenty thousand pounds.As children, their sister had been always very fondof them; but, as her own marriage had been soon followedby the death of their common parent, which left themto the care of a brother of their father, of whomMrs. Grant knew nothing, 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, or, at least,were no farther adverse in their feelings than that eachhad their favourite, to whom they showed the greatestfondness of the two. The Admiral delighted in the boy,Mrs. Crawford doted on the girl; and it was the lady'sdeath which now obliged her _protegee_, after some months'further trial at her uncle's house, to find another home.Admiral Crawford was a man of vicious conduct, who chose,instead of retaining his niece, to bring his mistressunder his own roof; and to this Mrs. Grant was indebtedfor her sister's proposal of coming to her, a measure quiteas welcome on one side as it could be expedient on the other;for Mrs. Grant, having by this time run through the usualresources of ladies residing in the country without afamily of children--having more than filled her favouritesitting-room with pretty furniture, and made a choicecollection of plants and poultry--was very much in wantof some variety at home. The arrival, therefore, of a sisterwhom she had always loved, and now hoped to retain withher as long as she remained single, was highly agreeable;and her chief anxiety was lest Mansfield should not satisfythe habits of a young woman who had been mostly usedto London.Miss Crawford was not entirely free from similarapprehensions, though they arose principally from doubtsof her sister's style of living and tone of society;and it was not till after she had tried in vain to persuadeher brother to settle with her at his own country house,that she could resolve to hazard herself among herother relations. To anything like a permanence of abode,or limitation of society, Henry Crawford had, unluckily,a great dislike: he could not accommodate his sisterin an article of such importance; but he escorted her,with the utmost kindness, into Northamptonshire,and as readily engaged to fetch her away again, at halfan hour's notice, whenever she were weary of the place.The meeting was very satisfactory on each side.Miss Crawford found a sister without precisenessor rusticity, a sister's husband who looked the gentleman,and a house commodious and well fitted up; and Mrs. Grantreceived in those whom she hoped to love better than evera 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 livelyand pleasant, and Mrs. Grant immediately gave them creditfor everything else. She was delighted with each,but Mary was her dearest object; and having never beenable to glory in beauty of her own, she thoroughly enjoyedthe power of being proud of her sister's. She had not waitedher arrival to look out for a suitable match for her:she had fixed on Tom Bertram; the eldest son of a baronetwas not too good for a girl of twenty thousand pounds,with all the elegance and accomplishments which Mrs. Grantforesaw in her; and being a warm-hearted, unreserved woman,Mary had not been three hours in the house before shetold her what she had planned.Miss Crawford was glad to find a family of such consequenceso very near them, and not at all displeased either ather sister's early care, or the choice it had fallen on.Matrimony was her object, provided she could marry well:and having seen Mr. Bertram in town, she knew thatobjection could no more be made to his person than tohis situation in life. While she treated it as a joke,therefore, she did not forget to think of it seriously.The scheme was soon repeated to Henry."And now," added Mrs. Grant, "I have thought of somethingto make it complete. I should dearly love to settle youboth in this country; and therefore, Henry, you shallmarry the youngest Miss Bertram, a nice, handsome,good-humoured, accomplished girl, who will make you very happy."Henry bowed and thanked her."My dear sister," said Mary, "if you can persuade himinto anything of the sort, it will be a fresh matter ofdelight to me to find myself allied to anybody so clever,and I shall only regret that you have not half a dozendaughters to dispose of. If you can persuade Henryto marry, you must have the address of a Frenchwoman.All that English abilities can do has been tried already.I have three very particular friends who have been alldying for him in their turn; and the pains which they,their mothers (very clever women), as well as my dearaunt and myself, have taken to reason, coax, or trickhim into marrying, is inconceivable! He is the mosthorrible flirt that can be imagined. If your MissBertrams do not like to have their hearts broke, let themavoid Henry.""My dear brother, I will not believe this of you.""No, I am sure you are too good. You will be kinder than Mary.You will allow for the doubts of youth and inexperience.I am of a cautious temper, and unwilling to risk myhappiness in a hurry. Nobody can think more highly ofthe matrimonial state than myself I consider the blessingof a wife as most justly described in those discreetlines of 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 very detestable;the Admiral's lessons have quite spoiled him.""I pay very little regard," said Mrs. Grant, "to whatany young person says on the subject of marriage.If they profess a disinclination for it, I only set itdown that they have not yet seen the right person."Dr. Grant laughingly congratulated Miss Crawfordon feeling no disinclination to the state herself."Oh yes! I am not at all ashamed of it. I wouldhave everybody marry if they can do it properly:I do not like to have people throw themselves away;but everybody should marry as soon as they can do itto advantage."