Edmund Bertram's Diary (8 page)

‘She has a wonderful play of feature!’ I agreed, lost, for the moment, in remembrance of her beauty. But then I returned to my reason for coming. ‘Was there nothing in her conversation that struck you, Fanny, as not quite right?’

‘Oh yes!’ she said at once, as though reading my mind. ‘She ought not to have spoken of her uncle as she did.’

I knew she would see it and I let out a sigh as I was reassured that I had not been wrong. But when Fanny went on to speak of Miss Crawford as ungrateful I had to defend her, saying,

‘Ungrateful is a strong word. She is awkwardly circumstanced. With such warm feelings and lively spirits it must be difficult to do justice to her affection for her departed aunt, without throwing a shade on the admiral.’

‘Do not you think,’ said Fanny, after a little consideration, ‘that this impropriety is a reflection upon that aunt, as her niece has been entirely brought up by her?’

At this, I was struck anew by Fanny’s intel igence, for that was undoubtedly the case: Miss Crawford’s faults were not her own, they were the faults of her upbringing.

‘Her present home must do her good,’ I said, much relieved. ‘Mrs. Grant’s manners are just what they ought to be. I am glad you saw it al as I did, Fanny. No doubt, before long, Miss Crawford wil see it al as we do, too.’

Having eased my feelings, I spent the afternoon seeing to estate business, but I could not keep my mind on my work, for it kept drifting back to Mary Crawford. She is the kind of woman I most admire, with a slight figure, dainty and elegant, and just the sort of features I love to look at. She has sense and cleverness and quickness of spirits. She is in every way an addition to Mansfield Park.

Saturday 23 July

The harp has arrived, and after dinner at the rectory, Miss Crawford took her place at the instrument. Beyond her was the window, cut down to the ground, and through it I could see the little lawn surrounded by shrubs. Clad in the rich foliage of summer the garden made a striking contrast with her white silk gown and set her off to great advantage. I was surprised at Crawford, who whispered to my sister Maria throughout the recital, for the music was excel ent, and I could scarce take my eyes away from Miss Crawford as she played.

‘You are an avid listener, Mr. Bertram,’ she said, as she stood up at last. ‘I do not believe I have ever had a more attentive audience.’

I thought fleetingly of Tom’s ease with women and the kind of clever reply he would have made, but I was not adept at teasing phrases and I could only assure her of my great pleasure in listening to her. It seemed to satisfy her, however, for she smiled at me, and I felt myself drawn to her even more.

The sandwich tray was brought in and Dr Grant did the honors. Even this simple activity seemed ful of interest tonight and the time passed so quickly that I could scarcely believe it when it was time to leave.

I thanked Miss Crawford and she said that I must come again. Mrs. Grant echoed her invitation and I accepted with pleasure.

What a summer this is turning out to be!

Monday 25 July

It has always been Miss Crawford’s habit to take a strol in the evenings and it has now become a regular thing that we al walk out together. My work about the estate is being left to others, and I am spending less time with my family, but I cannot help myself. Miss Crawford is so agreeable that I cannot tear myself away.

Saturday 30 July

‘I saw you ride past my window this morning,’ said Miss Crawford to my sisters as she and her family joined us at the Park for dinner. ‘How I envied you your exercise.’

‘You must come with us,’ said Maria.

‘It would do no good, for I cannot ride.’

‘Cannot ride?’

The idea was startling.

‘Then you must learn,’ said Maria.

‘Alas, I have no horse,’ she said rueful y.

‘Then you must borrow one of ours.’

‘Indeed you must,’ I pressed her. ‘I have just the animal, a quiet mare who is perfect for beginners.’

‘What if I am frightened?’ she asked, glancing at me teasingly, so that I could not tel whether she meant it or not, for her temperament is so different from my own that half the time I do not know how to understand her.

‘There is no need,’ I said, taking her at her word. ‘She is the quietest creature imaginable. I bought her for Fanny when the grey pony died.’

‘In that case I must decline,’ she protested. ‘I cannot think of taking Miss Price’s mare from her. It would be very wrong.’

‘There would be no question of that. If Fanny does not object, it would only mean taking the mare down to the Parsonage half an hour before your ride, wel before Fanny usual y goes out, and you may both have your exercise.’

Fanny said at once that she did not mind at al .

‘Then I wil bring the mare down to the Parsonage tomorrow, ’ I said.

‘And wil you instruct me?’ Miss Crawford asked me.

‘If you wish.’

‘I do wish. I wil feel safer with you there, for I am sure you wil be able to teach me how to go on, you are such an experienced horseman. I should have learned before this; Henry was always trying to teach me; but somehow I never had the urge before now.’

‘Then we must not disappoint you. I wil be at the Parsonage early with the groom.’

Her face fel .

‘I have no habit,’ she said.

‘That is nothing,’ said Mrs. Grant, ‘you may borrow one of mine until you can have one made. You wil want something in a newer style eventual y, but mine wil serve you for the present.’

As the ladies continued to talk of their habits, I found myself looking forward to the morrow with an eagerness I have not felt since I was a boy.

Sunday 31 July

I set out after church for the Parsonage, rejoicing in the day. It was calm and serene, with just enough cloud to prevent it being too hot, and a welcome breeze. Miss Crawford was waiting for me, attired in Mrs. Grant’s habit.

‘You must excuse my dress,’ she said drol y, glancing at the yards of material that trailed on the floor behind her. ‘My sister is inches tal er than I am.’

Tom would have thought of a compliment, but such things do not spring easily to my mind. Instead I told her that her habit would do very wel and helped her to mount. She was almost as light as Fanny, and with my hands round her waist she was soon sitting on the mare. She looked nervous to find herself so far off the ground, but I reassured her, and she laughed at her fears and was soon restored to her usual humor. I gave her instructions on how to sit, and how to hold the reins, and everything else necessary for her to begin, and then told her how to walk forwards, which she did with surprising grace.

‘If I had known it was so enjoyable I would have learnt to ride long ago,’ she said, as her confidence grew, ‘though I suppose with riding, as with everything else, it is the company that determines the enjoyment.’

She cast me a smiling glance and I felt that she had read my mind, for it was her company that was making the day so enjoyable for me.

After half an hour I felt she had had enough and she reluctantly dismounted.

‘You seem formed for a horsewoman,’ I said to her as I escorted her back into the Parsonage.

‘And for a musician,’ she said, glancing at the harp. ‘If you wil but give me a moment to change out of my habit, I wil play for you.’

‘I should be getting back to the house. Fanny wil be wanting her mare.’

‘Cannot the groom take her back? I feel I cannot let you go without a reward for your efforts. Do not make me shame myself by taking so much from you without giving you something in return.’

I could not resist her and, having instructed the groom to take the mare back to the Park, I awaited her in the sitting-room. Mrs. Grant sat with me whilst I waited, tel ing me how pleased she was with her brother and sister, and before long Miss Crawford returned, to entertain me with her playing. I do not know whether it was the liquid notes of the harp or the graceful movement of her white arms across the strings that enthral ed me most but I was held captive, and I felt that I had never spent a pleasanter morning in my life.

Monday 1 August

Miss Crawford made even better progress this morning than she did on Friday, and delighted me with her daring.

‘This is wonderful!’ she said, as she walked the mare about the stable yard. ‘Why have I never done this before?’

‘Because you have lived in town, and there it is not so easy to learn.’

‘But here, with you, it is simple,’ she said, giving me a smile. ‘I am beginning to think a country life is the life for me after al . To spend my time in the open air, in country pursuits, is becoming the ideal for me, whereas a few months ago the thought of it fil ed me with horror. What, to live amongst green fields with no shops or theatres to entertain me? But then I did not know what pure entertainment could come from simply living.’

I felt she had been in the saddle long enough, and was about to help her dismount when she said she wanted to try her skil s beyond the stable yard. She was playful yet determined, and at last I gave in. Mrs. Grant, coming into the stables at that moment, proposed that we made a party of it, and before long Dr and Mrs. Grant, Crawford, Miss Crawford and I ventured into the meadow, escorted by our grooms.

We were about to walk round the meadow when Crawford suggested that, if I would escort his sister, the rest of the party would watch her and see how she did.

‘We can observe her much better if we are not too close to her,’ he said. The others were agreeable and Miss Crawford and I set off round the meadow together. To begin with we went at a walking pace but then she said, ‘This is so tame! Why do we not go faster?’

And with that she began to canter. She had a good seat and sat with her back straight and her head held high. Her veil was blowing behind her in the wind and a lock of her hair fel clear of its pins and blew about her face. It drew my eye, and I was not sorry when I had to cal her to a halt and show her how to manage the bridle.

‘But there is Miss Price,’ she said, with an effort glancing towards the Park. ‘I have been very remiss. I have enjoyed myself so much I had quite forgotten her. Take me to her, if you please, so that I can apologize to her for keeping her from her exercise.’

I walked beside her, through the gate and into the lane, and we saw Fanny coming to meet us. I felt I had not behaved as I ought, for I had forgotten Fanny entirely whilst I had been with Miss Crawford, but Miss Crawford apologized so prettily that Fanny could not help but be satisfied.

‘I give way to you with a very bad grace,’ said Miss Crawford. ‘But I sincerely hope you wil have a pleasant ride, and that I may have nothing but good to hear of this dear delightful animal.’

I helped her to spring down and then the old coachman lifted Fanny up on to the horse and they set off together.

Maria and Julia were delighted to discover that their new friend showed such a natural ability.

‘I was sure she would ride wel ,’ said Julia, ‘she has the make for it. Her figure is as neat as her brother’s.’

‘Yes,’ added Maria, ‘and her spirits are as good, and she has the same energy of character. I cannot but think that good horsemanship has a great deal to do with the mind.’

I could not help but agree.

When we parted at night, I asked Fanny whether she meant to ride the next day.

‘No, I do not know — not if you want the mare,’ she said kindly.

‘I do not want her at al for myself, but whenever you are next inclined to stay at home, I think Miss Crawford would be glad to have her a longer time — for a whole morning, in short. She has a great desire to get as far as Mansfield Common: Mrs. Grant has been tel ing her of its fine views, and I have no doubt of her being perfectly equal to it. But any morning wil do for this. She would be extremely sorry to interfere with you. It would be very wrong if she did. She rides only for pleasure; you for health.’

‘I shal not ride tomorrow, certainly. I have been out very often lately, and would rather stay at home. You know I am strong enough now to walk very wel .’

She is right in this, but I cannot help protecting her for I have done so almost half my life, and indeed I do not think I could stop now even if I wanted to.

Tuesday 2 August

We rode out to the common this morning and I was astounded by Miss Crawford’s rapid progress.

‘You did not think I could do it,’ she said to me teasingly. ‘Come, admit it.’

‘On the contrary, I never had a doubt of it,’ I told her. ‘I have seldom seen anyone take to horseback as rapidly as you have done.’

‘We must go out again tomorrow,’ she said. ‘I am sure there must be some other fine rides hereabouts, and we ought to make the most of the weather whilst it is so fine.’

‘Oh, yes, there are many pleasant rides,’ said Maria, ‘and there are an abundance of shady lanes, so that we may take our exercise even if the day is hot.’

‘Then I am at your disposal,’ said Miss Crawford.

Crawford was included in the invitation and we have arranged to meet again early tomorrow morning.

Wednesday 3 August

Three times now we have ridden around the country and Miss Crawford has never once complained of the heat, though it has been very hot. Today was no exception and we were al glad to arrive back at the Parsonage, where we sat in the shade and drank lemonade.

‘You must dine with us this evening,’ said Mrs. Grant. She turned to Maria. ‘We cannot prevail upon you to stay with us, of course, Miss Bertram, as rumor has it a certain person might be cal ing at the Park this evening, and we must not suppose any entertainment we can offer you wil be equal to his. But I hope we may prevail upon you, Mr. Bertram, and you, Miss Julia, to join us.’

Maria returned to the Park and Julia and I spent a very agreeable evening at the Parsonage, with a fine dinner and Miss Crawford’s excel ent harp to entertain us. Crawford joined her in a song and persuaded Julia to join in, too. Usual y reluctant to sing, she yielded to Crawford’s entreaties and we were al very wel entertained.

Julia and I walked home through the warm summer evening, glowing and cheerful, but when we returned to the Park we found that Maria, Mama and Aunt Norris were very much the reverse. Maria would scarcely raise her eyes from her book and wore a scowl; Mama was half asleep and even Aunt Norris was silent. Fanny was nowhere to be seen, but when I asked if she had gone to bed, her own gentle voice spoke from the other end of the room and she said she was on the sofa.