Chapter XXIII

by Jane Austen

　　"But why should Mrs. Grant ask Fanny?" said Lady Bertram."How came she to think of asking Fanny? Fanny neverdines there, you know, in this sort of way. I cannotspare her, and I am sure she does not want to go.Fanny, you do not want to go, do you?""If you put such a question to her," cried Edmund,preventing his cousin's speaking, "Fanny will immediatelysay No; but I am sure, my dear mother, she would like to go;and I can see no reason why she should not.""I cannot imagine why Mrs. Grant should think of asking her?She never did before. She used to ask your sisters nowand then, but she never asked Fanny.""If you cannot do without me, ma'am--" said Fanny,in a self-denying tone."But my mother will have my father with her all the evening.""To be sure, so I shall.""Suppose you take my father's opinion, ma'am.""That's well thought of. So I will, Edmund. I willask Sir Thomas, as soon as he comes in, whether I cando without her.""As you please, ma'am, on that head; but I meant myfather's opinion as to the _propriety_ of the invitation'sbeing accepted or not; and I think he will considerit a right thing by Mrs. Grant, as well as by Fanny,that being the _first_ invitation it should be accepted.""I do not know. We will ask him. But he will be verymuch surprised that Mrs. Grant should ask Fanny at all."There was nothing more to be said, or that could besaid to any purpose, till Sir Thomas were present;but the subject involving, as it did, her own evening'scomfort for the morrow, was so much uppermost in LadyBertram's mind, that half an hour afterwards, on hislooking in for a minute in his way from his plantationto his dressing-room, she called him back again,when he had almost closed the door, with "Sir Thomas,stop a moment--I have something to say to you."Her tone of calm languor, for she never took the troubleof raising her voice, was always heard and attended to;and Sir Thomas came back. Her story began; and Fannyimmediately slipped out of the room; for to hear herselfthe subject of any discussion with her uncle was morethan her nerves could bear. She was anxious, she knew--more anxious perhaps than she ought to be--for what wasit after all whether she went or staid? but if her unclewere to be a great while considering and deciding,and with very grave looks, and those grave looks directedto her, and at last decide against her, she might notbe able to appear properly submissive and indifferent.Her cause, meanwhile, went on well. It began, on LadyBertram's part, with--"I have something to tell youthat will surprise you. Mrs. Grant has asked Fannyto dinner.""Well," said Sir Thomas, as if waiting more to accomplishthe surprise."Edmund wants her to go. But how can I spare her?""She will be late," said Sir Thomas, taking out his watch;"but what is your difficulty?"Edmund found himself obliged to speak and fill upthe blanks in his mother's story. He told the whole;and she had only to add, "So strange! for Mrs. Grantnever used to ask her.""But is it not very natural," observed Edmund,"that Mrs. Grant should wish to procure so agreeablea visitor for her sister?""Nothing can be more natural," said Sir Thomas, after ashort deliberation; "nor, were there no sister in the case,could anything, in my opinion, be more natural.Mrs. Grant's shewing civility to Miss Price, to LadyBertram's niece, could never want explanation. The onlysurprise I can feel is, that this should be the _first_time of its being paid. Fanny was perfectly right ingiving only a conditional answer. She appears to feelas she ought. But as I conclude that she must wish to go,since all young people like to be together, I can seeno reason why she should be denied the indulgence.""But can I do without her, Sir Thomas?""Indeed I think you may.""She always makes tea, you know, when my sister is not here.""Your sister, perhaps, may be prevailed on to spendthe day with us, and I shall certainly be at home.""Very well, then, Fanny may go, Edmund."The good news soon followed her. Edmund knocked at herdoor in his way to his own."Well, Fanny, it is all happily settled, and withoutthe smallest hesitation on your uncle's side.He had but one opinion. You are to go.""Thank you, I am _so_ glad," was Fanny's instinctive reply;though when she had turned from him and shut the door,she could not help feeling, "And yet why should I be glad?for am I not certain of seeing or hearing something thereto pain me?"In spite of this conviction, however, she was glad.Simple as such an engagement might appear in other eyes,it had novelty and importance in hers, for excepting theday at Sotherton, she had scarcely ever dined out before;and though now going only half a mile, and only tothree people, still it was dining out, and all the littleinterests of preparation were enjoyments in themselves.She had neither sympathy nor assistance from those who oughtto have entered into her feelings and directed her taste;for Lady Bertram never thought of being useful to anybody,and Mrs. Norris, when she came on the morrow, in consequenceof an early call and invitation from Sir Thomas, was ina very ill humour, and seemed intent only on lesseningher niece's pleasure, both present and future, as muchas possible."Upon my word, Fanny, you are in high luck to meetwith such attention and indulgence! You ought to bevery much obliged to Mrs. Grant for thinking of you,and to your aunt for letting you go, and you ought to lookupon it as something extraordinary; for I hope you areaware that there is no real occasion for your going intocompany in this sort of way, or ever dining out at all;and it is what you must not depend upon ever being repeated.Nor must you be fancying that the invitation is meantas any particular compliment to _you_; the complimentis intended to your uncle and aunt and me. Mrs. Grantthinks it a civility due to _us_ to take a little noticeof you, or else it would never have come into her head,and you may be very certain that, if your cousin Juliahad been at home, you would not have been asked at all."Mrs. Norris had now so ingeniously done away allMrs. Grant's part of the favour, that Fanny, who foundherself expected to speak, could only say that she wasvery much obliged to her aunt Bertram for sparing her,and that she was endeavouring to put her aunt's eveningwork in such a state as to prevent her being missed."Oh! depend upon it, your aunt can do very well without you,or you would not be allowed to go. _I_ shall be here, so youmay be quite easy about your aunt. And I hope you will havea very _agreeable_ day, and find it all mighty _delightful_.But I must observe that five is the very awkwardest ofall possible numbers to sit down to table; and I cannotbut be surprised that such an _elegant_ lady as Mrs. Grantshould not contrive better! And round their enormous greatwide table, too, which fills up the room so dreadfully!Had the doctor been contented to take my dining-table when Icame away, as anybody in their senses would have done,instead of having that absurd new one of his own,which is wider, literally wider than the dinner-table here,how infinitely better it would have been! and how muchmore he would have been respected! for people are neverrespected when they step out of their proper sphere.Remember that, Fanny. Five--only five to be sittinground that table. However, you will have dinner enoughon it for ten, I dare say."Mrs. Norris fetched breath, and went on again."The nonsense and folly of people's stepping out of theirrank and trying to appear above themselves, makes methink it right to give _you_ a hint, Fanny, now that youare going into company without any of us; and I do beseechand entreat you not to be putting yourself forward,and talking and giving your opinion as if you were one ofyour cousins--as if you were dear Mrs. Rushworth or Julia._That_ will never do, believe me. Remember, wherever you are,you must be the lowest and last; and though Miss Crawfordis in a manner at home at the Parsonage, you are not tobe taking place of her. And as to coming away at night,you are to stay just as long as Edmund chuses.Leave him to settle _that_.""Yes, ma'am, I should not think of anything else.""And if it should rain, which I think exceedingly likely,for I never saw it more threatening for a wet eveningin my life, you must manage as well as you can, and not beexpecting the carriage to be sent for you. I certainlydo not go home to-night, and, therefore, the carriage willnot be out on my account; so you must make up your mindto what may happen, and take your things accordingly."Her niece thought it perfectly reasonable. She rated herown claims to comfort as low even as Mrs. Norris could;and when Sir Thomas soon afterwards, just openingthe door, said, "Fanny, at what time would you have thecarriage come round?" she felt a degree of astonishmentwhich made it impossible for her to speak."My dear Sir Thomas!" cried Mrs. Norris, red with anger,"Fanny can walk.""Walk!" repeated Sir Thomas, in a tone of most unanswerabledignity, and coming farther into the room. "My niecewalk to a dinner engagement at this time of the year!Will twenty minutes after four suit you?""Yes, sir," was Fanny's humble answer, given with thefeelings almost of a criminal towards Mrs. Norris;and not bearing to remain with her in what might seema state of triumph, she followed her uncle out of the room,having staid behind him only long enough to hear thesewords spoken in angry agitation--"Quite unnecessary! a great deal too kind!But Edmund goes; true, it is upon Edmund's account.I observed he was hoarse on Thursday night."But this could not impose on Fanny. She felt thatthe carriage was for herself, and herself alone:and her uncle's consideration of her, coming immediatelyafter such representations from her aunt, cost hersome tears of gratitude when she was alone.The coachman drove round to a minute; another minutebrought down the gentleman; and as the lady had, with amost scrupulous fear of being late, been many minutesseated in the drawing-room, Sir Thomas saw them offin as good time as his own correctly punctual habits required."Now I must look at you, Fanny," said Edmund, with thekind smile of an affectionate brother, "and tell youhow I like you; and as well as I can judge by this light,you look very nicely indeed. What have you got on?""The new dress that my uncle was so good as to give meon my cousin's marriage. I hope it is not too fine; but Ithought I ought to wear it as soon as I could, and that Imight not have such another opportunity all the winter.I hope you do not think me too fine.""A woman can never be too fine while she is all in white. No, Iseeno finery about you; nothing but what is perfectly proper.Your gown seems very pretty. I like these glossy spots.Has not Miss Crawford a gown something the same?"In approaching the Parsonage they passed close by thestable-yard and coach-house."Heyday!" said Edmund, "here's company, here's a carriage!who have they got to meet us?" And letting down the side-glassto distinguish, "'Tis Crawford's, Crawford's barouche,I protest! There are his own two men pushing it backinto its old quarters. He is here, of course. This isquite a surprise, Fanny. I shall be very glad to see him."There was no occasion, there was no time for Fannyto say how very differently she felt; but the ideaof having such another to observe her was a greatincrease of the trepidation with which she performedthe very awful ceremony of walking into the drawing-room.In the drawing-room Mr. Crawford certainly was, having beenjust long enough arrived to be ready for dinner; and thesmiles and pleased looks of the three others standinground him, shewed how welcome was his sudden resolutionof coming to them for a few days on leaving Bath.A very cordial meeting passed between him and Edmund;and with the exception of Fanny, the pleasure was general;and even to _her_ there might be some advantage inhis presence, since every addition to the party mustrather forward her favourite indulgence of being sufferedto sit silent and unattended to. She was soon awareof this herself; for though she must submit, as herown propriety of mind directed, in spite of her auntNorris's opinion, to being the principal lady in company,and to all the little distinctions consequent thereon,she found, while they were at table, such a happy flowof conversation prevailing, in which she was not requiredto take any part--there was so much to be said betweenthe brother and sister about Bath, so much betweenthe two young men about hunting, so much of politicsbetween Mr. Crawford and Dr. Grant, and of everythingand all together between Mr. Crawford and Mrs. Grant,as to leave her the fairest prospect of having only tolisten in quiet, and of passing a very agreeable day.She could not compliment the newly arrived gentleman,however, with any appearance of interest, in a schemefor extending his stay at Mansfield, and sending for hishunters from Norfolk, which, suggested by Dr. Grant,advised by Edmund, and warmly urged by the two sisters,was soon in possession of his mind, and which he seemedto want to be encouraged even by her to resolve on.Her opinion was sought as to the probable continuanceof the open weather, but her answers were as shortand indifferent as civility allowed. She could not wishhim to stay, and would much rather not have him speakto her.Her two absent cousins, especially Maria, were much in herthoughts on seeing him; but no embarrassing remembranceaffected _his_ spirits. Here he was again on the sameground where all had passed before, and apparently aswilling to stay and be happy without the Miss Bertrams,as if he had never known Mansfield in any other state.She heard them spoken of by him only in a general way,till they were all re-assembled in the drawing-room,when Edmund, being engaged apart in some matter of businesswith Dr. Grant, which seemed entirely to engross them,and Mrs. Grant occupied at the tea-table, he began talkingof them with more particularity to his other sister.With a significant smile, which made Fanny quite hate him,he said, "So! Rushworth and his fair bride are at Brighton,I understand; happy man!""Yes, they have been there about a fortnight, Miss Price,have they not? And Julia is with them.""And Mr. Yates, I presume, is not far off.""Mr. Yates! Oh! we hear nothing of Mr. Yates. I do notimagine he figures much in the letters to Mansfield Park;do you, Miss Price? I think my friend Julia knows betterthan to entertain her father with Mr. Yates.""Poor Rushworth and his two-and-forty speeches!"continued Crawford. "Nobody can ever forget them.Poor fellow! I see him now--his toil and his despair.Well, I am much mistaken if his lovely Maria will everwant him to make two-and-forty speeches to her"; adding,with a momentary seriousness, "She is too good for him--much too good." And then changing his tone again to oneof gentle gallantry, and addressing Fanny, he said,"You were Mr. Rushworth's best friend. Your kindness andpatience can never be forgotten, your indefatigable patiencein trying to make it possible for him to learn his part--in trying to give him a brain which nature had denied--to mix up an understanding for him out of the superfluityof your own! _He_ might not have sense enough himselfto estimate your kindness, but I may venture to say that ithad honour from all the rest of the party."Fanny coloured, and said nothing."It is as a dream, a pleasant dream!" he exclaimed,breaking forth again, after a few minutes' musing. "I shallalways look back on our theatricals with exquisite pleasure.There was such an interest, such an animation, such aspirit diffused. Everybody felt it. We were all alive.There was employment, hope, solicitude, bustle, for everyhour of the day. Always some little objection,some little doubt, some little anxiety to be got over.I never was happier."With silent indignation Fanny repeated to herself,"Never happier!--never happier than when doing whatyou must know was not justifiable!--never happierthan when behaving so dishonourably and unfeelingly!Oh! what a corrupted mind!""We were unlucky, Miss Price," he continued, in a lower tone,to avoid the possibility of being heard by Edmund,and not at all aware of her feelings, "we certainlywere very unlucky. Another week, only one other week,would have been enough for us. I think if we had had thedisposal of events--if Mansfield Park had had the governmentof the winds just for a week or two, about the equinox,there would have been a difference. Not that we wouldhave endangered his safety by any tremendous weather--but only by a steady contrary wind, or a calm. I think,Miss Price, we would have indulged ourselves with a week'scalm in the Atlantic at that season."He seemed determined to be answered; and Fanny,averting her face, said, with a firmer tone than usual,"As far as _I_ am concerned, sir, I would not havedelayed his return for a day. My uncle disapproved itall so entirely when he did arrive, that in my opinioneverything had gone quite far enough."She had never spoken so much at once to him in her life before,and never so angrily to any one; and when her speech was over,she trembled and blushed at her own daring. He was surprised;but after a few moments' silent consideration of her,replied in a calmer, graver tone, and as if the candidresult of conviction, "I believe you are right. It wasmore pleasant than prudent. We were getting too noisy."And then turning the conversation, he would have engagedher on some other subject, but her answers were so shyand reluctant that he could not advance in any.Miss Crawford, who had been repeatedly eyeing Dr. Grantand Edmund, now observed, "Those gentlemen must havesome very interesting point to discuss.""The most interesting in the world," replied her brother--"how to make money; how to turn a good income into a better.Dr. Grant is giving Bertram instructions about the livinghe is to step into so soon. I find he takes ordersin a few weeks. They were at it in the dining-parlour.I am glad to hear Bertram will be so well off. He willhave a very pretty income to make ducks and drakes with,and earned without much trouble. I apprehend he willnot have less than seven hundred a year. Seven hundreda year is a fine thing for a younger brother; and as ofcourse he will still live at home, it will be all for his_menus_ _plaisirs_; and a sermon at Christmas and Easter,I suppose, will be the sum total of sacrifice."His sister tried to laugh off her feelings by saying,"Nothing amuses me more than the easy manner with which everybodysettles the abundance of those who have a great deal lessthan themselves. You would look rather blank, Henry, if your_menus_ _plaisirs_ were to be limited to seven hundred a year.""Perhaps I might; but all _that_ you know isentirely comparative. Birthright and habit must settlethe business. Bertram is certainly well off for a cadetof even a baronet's family. By the time he is four or fiveand twenty he will have seven hundred a year, and nothing to do forit."Miss Crawford _could_ have said that there wouldbe a something to do and to suffer for it, which shecould not think lightly of; but she checked herselfand let it pass; and tried to look calm and unconcernedwhen the two gentlemen shortly afterwards joined them."Bertram," said Henry Crawford, "I shall make a point ofcoming 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 inencouraging your cousin? Will not you engage to attendwith your eyes steadily fixed on him the whole time--as I shall do--not to lose a word; or only looking offjust 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,that Sir Thomas and Lady Bertram may hear you.""I shall keep clear of you, Crawford, as long as I can,"said Edmund; "for you would be more likely to disconcert me,and I should be more sorry to see you trying at it thanalmost any other man.""Will he not feel this?" thought Fanny. "No, he can feelnothing as he ought."The party being now all united, and the chief talkersattracting each other, she remained in tranquillity;and as a whist-table was formed after tea--formed reallyfor the amusement of Dr. Grant, by his attentive wife,though it was not to be supposed so--and Miss Crawfordtook her harp, she had nothing to do but to listen;and her tranquillity remained undisturbed the restof the evening, except when Mr. Crawford now and thenaddressed to her a question or observation, which shecould not avoid answering. Miss Crawford was too muchvexed by what had passed to be in a humour for anythingbut music. With that she soothed herself and amusedher friend.The assurance of Edmund's being so soon to take orders,coming upon her like a blow that had been suspended,and still hoped uncertain and at a distance, was feltwith resentment and mortification. She was very angrywith him. She had thought her influence more.She _had_ begun to think of him; she felt that she had,with great regard, with almost decided intentions;but she would now meet him with his own cool feelings.It was plain that he could have no serious views, no trueattachment, by fixing himself in a situation which he mustknow she would never stoop to. She would learn to matchhim in his indifference. She would henceforth admit hisattentions without any idea beyond immediate amusement.If _he_ could so command his affections, _hers_ should do herno harm.