Beginning, Section II, Next Section
Part 12
Give me a look, give me a face,
That makes simplicity a grace.
~~Ben Jonson
"You must feel positively inadequate, darling brother," teased Mary as soon as she and Henry were alone.
"I should?"
"Mmmmm, it is quite clear to me that you like little Francine Price more than you intended and I am thoroughly sad for you when I hear that her ideal men are Mr. Knightley and James Stewart..."
"True, they were never my role models."
"Well, am I wrong? Can you live up to the expectations of such a woman?"
"Francie Price is an eighteen year old student-to-be with short hair and black clothes - you cannot imagine for a moment I am interested in her with both her cousins so delightfully available."
"Available? Oh, yes, they are available!"
Not long after assuring his sister that Miss Price was not his sort Commander Crawford began to find her interesting. It was a voyage of discovery his sister found quite entertaining.
"Do not put yourself out, she doesn't go for the dashing uniformed type else she would have opted for Captain Wentworth when I asked about her favourite Austen hero."
"I have no intention of putting myself out," replied Henry, "I only want to make her to in love with me, that is all."
"But Henry!" protested Mary with a good deal of laughter, "A little girl who knows nothing, has been nowhere, what kind of a challenge is that? She's such an ingenue!"
"And that is the attraction," replied her brother calmly, "Remember, Mary, Such sweet neglect more taketh me, than all the adulteries of art: they strike mine eyes but not my heart."*
Mary widened her eyes and continued to smile, "I do not believe you, Henry. I cannot believe your tastes have changed so much. But..." her voice took on a slightly more serious hue, "be sure you do not break her heart. I know you, Henry, you are too attractive for your own good unless you can discover that Miss Price enjoys having her heart broken you had better keep clear of her!"
"I am aware of her age," he retorted, "and of course I will not break her heart, I merely want to make a little hole in it. I want her to save some smiles for me, blush a little when I talk to her, save me a seat next to her at dinner - you know."
"Well," she said, taking his hand, "I wish you joy of it but... I wonder if you can actually accomplish it."
Henry only laughed.
"You may find it harder than you imagine, in fact Henry, I would be prepared to bet that you cannot make little Miss Francie in love with you."
He stared incredulously, "You would what?"
"You heard me."
"All right, I heard you. What do you bet?"
"If I win then you give me that rather expensive little object that you know I want and selfishly have been keeping to yourself."
"And if I win?"
She smiled again, "Anything you like, Henry, anything you like."
"I like..." he began slowly, "I like... well, to be honest Mary, I like seeing you lose."
"Very well then, it is a deal. When do you rejoin The Invincible ?"
"Two weeks," he smiled, "just before Francie goes up to Cambridge. Thank God this middle-ear thing has finally cleared up."
"Inconvenient for a pilot," remarked Mary, "but at least it is not disfiguring and has not prevented Mrs. Rushworth and Miss Bertram from falling for you."
"Mrs. Rushworth and her sister are becoming tedious," responded Henry, "Ria is pretty but I am bored with her, she has little to offer beyond a perfect body and the other... the other is as empty-headed as Lydia Bennet on a bad intellect day. Yates couldn't have found a better person for the part than his own girlfriend."
"Bitchy, Henry," she chided, "I far prefer your choice of Francine, she is at least intelligent, perhaps you had better make sure she does not break your heart. You are getting old and young girls often have a shattering effect on men your age."
"I am thirty, Mary," he replied indignantly.
"And, believe me, that is positively ancient to eighteen," she smirked. "I said it would not be easy."
If, however, Commander Crawford had begun to find Miss Price interesting it must be noted that her feelings for him were going quite in the opposite direction. Her original opinion of him - classy, literate and charming - remained but she had begun to see evidence of a confused and selfish individual beneath the personable veneer. He was, perhaps, not as vitiated as his sister but to Francie who prized honesty and naturalness above all things he was quite unacceptable.
Part 12 Continued
Mary Crawford continued to bewitch Edmund, with him she was delicate, sensitive and amusing. Her behaviour when alone with her brother or the Bertram sisters was hardly comparable but Edmund never saw it; she was insincere where Henry was largely self-centred and thoughtless.
An astonishing example of her sincerity, though, occured one rainy Sunday afternoon in which all the young people were confined to the house. Aunt Norris thought nothing of putting on her mackintosh and tramping over to the rectory in the hopes of an improptu invitation to lunch from the new rector and his wife and she was obviously rewarded with one for she had not returned by the time they assembled to eat at the Park. Francie felt a little despondent when she saw her Aunt's empty place at the table, not because she particularly wanted Mrs Norris' company, she did not, but because at least one distasteful subject was assiduously avoided in her presence. However, it was two other subjects, close to Mrs Norris's heart, that were discussed while she investigated the excesses of Mrs Frankel's table. Marriage and Money.
Mr Yates and Julie had been invited elsewhere for their Sunday lunch which left the arena open to discuss them. Mary started it all by expressing to Ria her surprise atJulie involving herself with Yates.
"I daresay he has a good position," she said, "but it is well known that he cannot manage money, he is said to sail very close to the wind where debt is concerned."
"Only a fool marries without money," replied Ria, "but I do not imagine she will actually marry him."
Francie winced with embarrassment and quickly glanced at Mr Rushworth but he seemed quite unaware of his wife's callous remark which had come precariously close to an admission of her own motives in marriage. Edmund, too, seemed not to take in fully what Ria had said but then he had come to terms some time ago with his sister's choice of mate. Only Henry smiled very slightly and then not at Francie but at his sister. She, understanding Ria perfectly, continued the subject.
"A large income is the best recipe for happiness I have ever heard of," she said, "and no-one married to such a man will ever have much of an income."
"Perhaps she'll get snapped up by Hollywood and make her own fortune," grinned Tom, who was genuinely fond of his youngest sister, "then it won't matter who she marries."
Ria rolled her eyes dramatically, "For God's sake, Tom, she had better not depend on that."
"It is always preferably to have one's own money, or to be able to make it," said Mary very seriously. "Imagine how dreadful it must have been in Jane Austen's day when women, even nice women, were forced to marry men they did not love in order to have a decent lifestyle. I never think of Charlotte Lucas and Mr Collins without shuddering."
Nor I, thought Francie but kept her silence.
"I am sure some of my ancestresses did not marry for the most perfect love," grinned Ria, "but in a house this size one can always lose an aggravating husband!"
She seemed to cast a certain look at Commander Crawford at this point but it was very brief and Francie almost thought she had imagined it. But no, he smiled and looked down to hide his smile, a strange gesture in such a blatant character.
Mary, however, seemed to have lost Ria's chain of thought, "I daresay one could in Mansfield Park, or in Pemberley, but imagine being cooped up in a little parsonage with some petulant fool following one about complaining because some green goose or other was not served to his satisfaction!"
Ria giggled hopelessly, "I cannot imagine you in a parsonage, Mary, even less in the kitchen of a parsonage!"
Mary smiled suddenly, a very beautiful smile, most unlike her common teasing one.
"I have never cooked a thing in my life," she declared, "I buy all my food in Marks & Spencer."
"Doesn't everyone?" asked Henry with mock innocence.
"No, no!" cried Mary, "Edmund cooks. Edmund cooks exquisitely."
Her words were piercing scalpels to Francie's heart. He cooked for her? Edmund cooked for her? She recalled with perfect misery how many happy times she and Edmund had had together in the kitchen and could not bear the thought of him doing the same with Mary. Of course, Mary would not even try to cook, she would simply perch on the counter with a glass of something and look chic.
"Perhaps you could learn to cook, Mary," said Edmund kindly.
"Not me!" responded Mary giggling effusively and looking at Ria, "Oh, no, the sweets of housekeeping in a country parish could never be shared out to my liking. Give me an excellent Mrs Baddeley of my own, nothing else will do!"
"Well, I hope you always have the good fortune to live near Marks & Spencer," smiled Henry raising his glass to her.
Ria sloshed more wine into Mary's glass and her own. It was left to Edmund to ensure that everyonelse had some, everyone that wanted it, Francie was content with mineral water.
"I am sure I shall," she said confidently, "Edmund, what do you think? Is South Kensington too far from Marble Arch?"
Edmund smiled but did not reply. Francie knew that Mary knew that Edmund longed for a country parish and had no intention of taking an urban one; she also knew, as Mary did, that a clergyman could never hope to live in South Kensington, a corporate lawyer perhaps, but not a priest.
She had hoped, perhaps, that by the end of the afternoon Mary's many pointed remarks about income and profession would have deterred Edmund from pursuing her further. It was clear to Francie that she said those things not only because they stemmed from heart but also to put him off, it was equally clear that he cherished the conviction that he could change her mind on most of them.
Part 13
Later that evening Mary expressed sorrow at being unable to drive. Her brother, she said, absolutely refused to teach her. Edmund immediately offered to give her lessons and, within a day, had persuaded her out in Francie's car. It had to be Francie's car for a beginner and at first Francie did not mind. Mary had her first lesson and did very well but after that she seemed to lose confidence and need more and more practice; more and more time with Edmund, that was. Francie, without her car, could not get to the library in Northampton or use the staff card for Northampton University library that she had acquired through a part-time job there last term. Finally, she was forced to be grateful to Commander Crawford for driving her into town and home again although she often contrived to get the bus home. She could imagine what his business might be in Northampton and would have been very uncomfortable, to the extent of giving up the trips entirely, had she heard him tell his sister he went there only for the pleasure of driving her.
Her opinion of him deteriorated further as his relationship with Ria seemed to become more intense. His vanity made it impossible for him to resist making three women in love with him at once so when he was not attempting to ingratiate himself into Francie's affections with discussions of music and poetry he was wandering in the gardens laughing and flirting with Mrs Rushworth. Francie saw it all with mixed feelings of disgust and fear. His flirtation with Julie was less obvious as it could not be so easily carried out in front of John Yates but it existed nevertheless for when no-onelse was available.
"How long will the Crawfords be here, Edmund?" she asked on one of the rare occasions they were alone. Julie had driven Mary into Northampton for some shopping.
He looked up from his book, "I hoped Mary would stay until the start of term, I thought we would all travel to Cambridge together."
Francie sighed, "I don't mean Mary." That was a lie. "It's Henry I'm worried about - look!"
Edmund stood up and joined her at the window. On a bench under some trees sat Ria and Commander Crawford; his arm was stretched out along the back of the bench and she sat facing him, far too closely, they were laughing intimately and from the perspective of the library it was quite culpable.
"He is a bad influence wherever he goes," growled Edmund, "he affects his sister for the worse - she is a different creature when she is away from him..."
Forgive me, Edmund, but she only becomes a different creature when she is with you.
"Mary suspects him of having a preference for Julie," he said after a short while, "and it would be a good thing for him. A serious attachment might go a long way to curing him of his selfishness and instability."
"I have never seen evidence of such a preference," said Francie. "If he was keen on Julie he would not spend so much time with Ria, oh Edmund, what shall we do?"
"I don't know, Francie, I really don't. I can't tell him to leave, I have no idea when he is supposed to rejoin his ship... and in the midst of all this misery surrounding the Princess of Wales I completely forgot to contact father about this damned film company."
"Oh, Edmund - no!"
"Yes," he sat down heavily on the window seat, "the legal people from Aurelia are coming today with the papers and once signed it is a contract we have to adhere to."
Francie sat down beside him and took his hand, "And you cannot contact Uncle through the cruise company even now?"
"I just tried but some satellite is down or whatever, whatever you say when a satellite isn't working. He would probably fly straight home anyway and ruin mother's holiday."
"Keep trying," advised Francie, "and keep working on Tom, get Christopher Jackson over if necessary. You know how your father will loathe this - goodness, Edmund, it's not just a magazine article or some high-brow architectural thing watched by a handful of professors and old ladies on BBC2, it's a high profile expensive drama! Your mother wouldn't want your father upset like that - she would rather give up her holiday!"
"You are right, Francie. Thank God I have you to talk to. I'll try the cruise company again and you phone Kit."
Unfortunately not all that Edmund, Francine and Mr Jackson could say or do would move Tom. He had all his father's power of attorney in his absence and was hell-bent on permitting cameras into the gallery and half a dozen of the principal rooms. The satellite that would provide contact with the liner remained inoperative until long after Aurelia's representatives had come and gone.
Francie watched them leave and joined Edmund and Tom in the library. Tom was shuffling papers into a case and Edmund was standing opposite him teetering between despair and fury.
"I cannot understand you, Tom," he cried, "you know our father's feelings on this subject!"
"It's harmless," protested Tom, "and it is a costume drama, quite prestigious."
"That is not the point, as you well know! I cannot believe you would go against father's deepest wishes for what? For what, Tom? A joke? Spite? What?"
Tom flinched uncomfortably. Edmund was generally even-tempered, he rarely shouted, never lost his temper.
"Look, Eddie, it had to be done, okay?"
"Had to be done?" roared Edmund, " What had to be done?" Francie slipped into one of the deep leather chairs and held her breath. Tom looked over at her for moral support but she pretended not to catch his eye.
"Without a suitable place to film Pemberley they would have had to halt production," he faltered, "they would have lost a lot of money."
Edmund shrugged his shoulders, "I am sorry for that but it smacks of bad planning to me and what is it to us, anyway?"
"Well, with Austen-mania raging, a film version of Pride and Prejudice with an all-star cast is a huge money-spinner and Aurelia will fold without it."
Edmund threw his hands up, "And what is that to us?"
"Nothing to you," replied Tom glumly, "but a hell of a lot to me. I'm in bad debt, Eddie, and I'm a major shareholder in Aurelia Films."
Edmund took a step towards his brother but at that moment the door opened and Commander Crawford appeared.
"I've come to take my leave of you," he smiled, "duty and my Captain beckon."
Edmund bade him farewell as cordially as he could under the circumstances, he was still anxious to understand Crawford's involvement in the affair but did not like to ask until he was through with Tom.
Somewhere in the flurry and confusion of goodbyes Tom managed to slip out and thus avoid facing Edmund again. It was therefore left to Edmund and Francie to deal with the impending invasion of cameramen, technicians, caterers, decorators, actors and publicists as best they could. Julie could barely think for excitement; Pemberley filmed in her family home was such a coup, she could only regret that Lydia had no scenes there. Mr Rushworth was far too taken up with ruining Sotherton further to be much interested in the ruination of Mansfield Park and Ria really didn't care.
Francie packed for Cambridge with a heavy heart; she often had to sit on her bed and cry. Her only consolation was that with half the house being rearranged Aunt Norris was far too busy to bother with her. She wandered over to the window; Mrs Norris was happily engaged supervising a good deal of modern furniture being removed to an outhouse for storage; Ria was flirting with the director; Julie was running hither and thither wholly given over to excitement of the most trivial sort; even Edmund seemed to be involved to the extent of showing a good deal of interest in the technicians who were working on camera angles for the outdoor scenes.
Her packing finished she went down to the kitchen to make a cup of tea. It was full of film people being catered to quite happily by Aunt Norris and Mrs Baddeley.
"Their caterers won't arrive until tomorrow," announced Aunt Norris, "the majority of those involved arrive then."
She took her tea and what food Mrs Norris would permit her to deprive the film people of and hid in the morning room. The long gallery, the largest drawing room, the hall, the principal staircase, and the room overlooking the lake were all being overhauled to various degrees by painters and scene-setters but the Charles Rennie Macintosh morning room was quite uninteresting to them.
After a short while her reverie was disturbed by Edmund. "Are you all ready for tomorrow?"
She nodded.
"You know, Francie, perhaps this film isn't such a bad thing after all."
She jumped, "What?"
"Well, Mary's been telling me a lot about Aurelia Films and the things they've done in the past and it's all terrific. It's a really prestigious company, Francie."
He proceeded to reel off a list of films and serials made by Aurelia in the past.
"Merchant Ivory eat your heart out," she replied, "but your father will still hate it."
Edmund looked anguished, "We have to make the best of a bad situation, somehow."
Francie shook her head, "No, you have to be true to the trust your father placed in you and that means keep protesting to the very end. Why is Mary interested, anyway?"
"Tom is in debt again and either she or Henry has lent him money and Henry is not the type to lose out on an investment simply to humour my father's sensibilities, as far as he is concerned this production will succeed."
Francie felt rather agitated. She was happy to indite Henry Crawford for the dissolution of Mansfield Park but she could not think it very fair that he should lose a lot of money because of Tom's stupidity. After a while, though, she concluded that if Commander Crawford was foolish enough to lend money to Tom he deserved all he got, or didn't get, in return.
Part 14
Cambridge was everything she had expected it to be and more. Unlike her school, chosen by Aunt Norris, and full of empty-headed girls scrambling themselves into the minimum amount of education needed to tide them over until they met rich husbands, Cambridge was full of the bright and the interesting. For the first time in her life she had people to talk to about poetry, people who thought as she did, that it really mattered.
She had a large room to herself in a big house at the end of Bridge Street and a good view of the River Cam.
And Tennyson notes with studious eye how Cambridge waters hurry by*, she quoted to herself as she unpacked. The swans reminded her of Mansfield Park, there she would never have been awarded a view of them but here they were at her beck and call all day. It was a mere hop and skip from her rooms to St Clement's church and as the keys could be obtained from the sandwich shop opposite she spent many moments sitting alone with the icons as a refuge from the crowded streets and her fellow students who were occasionally too robust and noisy for her. Another few minutes walk would take her around the corner into Jesus Lane and, half hidden by a high wall, was Westcott House and Edmund.
Her flat-mates were nice, too. There was Libby with the dreadful mother and the rich fiancé from Derbyshire, she was never in. Cathy, who was proud of being at Cambridge when her brother James had followed in the family tradition of Oxford. And Anna, sweet, serious Anna, who had come to university at twenty-eight to escape from her father and sister.
Half-term rushed by punctuated by a flying visit to Mansfield Park still full of film people; they had taken a break, done something else and come back again when the place was in its full autumnal splendour. The remainder of the break was spent with Edmund exploring East Anglia. They hired a canal barge for a few days; walked; photographed; made a little pilgrimage to Walsingham and all in all Francie could not have been happier. Heaven had come down to earth, the world was full of glory and Mary Crawford conspicuously absent.
At least she was absent in body. Edmund continued to think of her and speak of her but while she was spending nights and weekends in the capital he was spending them with Francie. Not the nights, of course, but all the other times. They met for lunch; went to the library; listened to concerts; it was all of her dreams of Cambridge all come true at and at the same time.
However, her happiness was to be brief. One day shortly before the Christmas vacation she bounced into Edmund's rooms only to find him hastily extricating himself from an embrace and the fortunate recipient of that embrace was Mary Crawford. Francie's only consolation in the scene was that judging from Mary's tear-stained complexion it had not been entirely romantic. She turned away towards the wall and Edmund pulled Francie into the bedroom.
"I don't know what's happened to her," he whispered, "but she's in a perfectly dreadful state. Says her aunt and uncle are divorcing and she has nowhere to go for Christmas."
Francie's heart sank like lead.
"Of course, it's more than the aunt, the uncle and Christmas," continued Edmund, "it's obviously that bas... her boyfriend. Oh, Francie, if I could lay my hands on that guy.... I bet he's one of Crawford's friends. Sailors are all the same, flashy uniforms and creative excuses."
"Mansfield will cure her," said Francie, "who could not be transformed by Christmas at Mansfield Park?"
"I hope you are right," he replied, "and we can all be grateful that Commander Crawford is safely aboard The Invincible and promises to be so for quite some time."
"I am glad of that," she replied, "perhaps Ria will be reconciled to her husband. I am sure she will feel more affectionate towards him at Christmas and in their own home. They were happy before Henry started to interfere."
Edmund could not wholeheartedly agree with that. He had often thought that Mr. Rushworth was a fool and was quite certain that if he was not a millionaire his sister would share his opinion. However, his father would be home for Christmas and he consoled himself with the fact that Ria was always more prudent and Mr. Rushworth tolerably sensible in Sir Thomas's presence.
The countryside around Mansfield was grey and unwelcoming; even the House itself seemed not to realize it was Christmas taking its mood, perhaps, from Mary who had remained silent and withdrawn in the back of the car all the way from Cambridge. Francie got out first and fancied she could see a sparkle of frost in the trees and her optimism was rewarded by the huge piles of holly and evergreens piled up in the hallway, the decorating was about to begin, it required only that Sir Thomas and Lady Bertram return at their appointed hour for the festivities to commence.
"The decorators are all but finished," shouted Aunt Norris from the second floor as Edmund and Mary struggled in with their bags.
Edmund frowned, "What decorators, Aunt?"
"The people from Aurelia, of course," she bustled down the stairs, "hello Mary, lovely to see you again, dear. You remember, Edmund, they have to replace our own decor after altering it for the film."
"When is my father due?" asked Edmund with a solemn look at Francie.
"Tonight," gushed Mrs. Norris, "which is why I got the staff to have the holly and such cut and delivered today. I thought it would look wonderfully welcoming and be all ready to hang tomorrow."
"My father may not be in the mood for decorating," replied Edmund gravely.
Mrs. Norris looked shocked, "But of course he will, we do it every year at this time."
"The film, Aunt, the film, the fact that we will be on the cover of The TV Times and in goodness knows what other publications."
Mrs. Norris looked slightly stupefied, "Nothing has changed," she protested, "they have redecorated as good as new, indeed it is new and will save your father a pretty penny in paint and paper."
"Come into the kitchen and I will make us some coffee," said Francie to Mary as Edmund continued to remonstrate with Mrs. Norris in an attempt to make her see that the cost of decorating was not the principle issue and certainly would not be to his father.
"Your uncle will be angry about the film, then?" asked Mary when they were safely away from Mrs. Norris.
"He will be livid," replied Francie, "he has almost a phobia about photographs being taken of the inside of his house."
"I can understand his need for privacy," replied Mary seriously, "but why did Tom allow it?"
That question at least proved that it was not Mary who had been foolish enough to lend Tom money.
"I hope you will not miss your brother," she smiled for the sake of something to say.
"He half promised to be docked in Portsmouth for a short while around Christmas," sighed Mary, "but I don't know..."
At that moment the front door was flung open with terrific force and Sir Thomas's voice could be heard thundering throughout the entire house. Francie shuddered, in nine years she had never heard her uncle so much as raise his voice.
"Put your coat on," she whispered to Mary, "go on, do as I say, and grab two cups."
The startled girl did as she was told and in seconds they and the cafetiere were safely a moderately heated greenhouse.
"Is this some quaint seasonal custom?" enquired Mary.
Francie shook her head, "I cannot face my uncle so angry."
Mary raised her eyebrows, "You have done no wrong. Anyway, do you call that anger? My uncle sounded like that every night of the week."
Francie remembered vaguely her father shouting a lot because he was drunk and wondered if all men turned out that way. "We will go in again shortly," she promised.
"Oh, don't worry," smiled Mary, "I love new experiences."
In half an hour Francie judged it safe to return to the house. She found her Aunt Maria sitting alone in the morning room surrounded by hundreds of gifts, some wrapped, some not.
"Oh, Francie!" she cried, "I am so glad to see you. I do not know what to do!"
Mary had since vanished to her quarters and Francie sat down beside her aunt and tried to console her for what must have been a thoroughly unpleasant flight home from Boston with Sir Thomas and the issue of Woman's Journal with pictures of herself and Julie super-imposed over Mansfield Park's drawing room.
"We decided to finish the cruise in Florida," she sniffed, "and visit some friends in Boston and while I was there I did an interview with this magazine because my new book is just coming out in America..."
Francie nodded understandingly.
"And then when we were at Reykjavik, the plane stops over there, you know... I glimpsed Julie on the cover of the latest edition... well, Francie, they had rushed my interview in because of my story being a regency romance and Pride and Prejudice being filmed in my house... and my daughter being in it... and, oh, Francie, Sir Thomas is so angry... I haven't seen him this angry in thirty years!"
Francie felt sick with fear. She hoped Edmund was defending himself properly and not attempting to shield Tom.
"Where is Pug?" she asked after a while wishing to change the subject to one her aunt might weep over less.
"Ruth has gone to fetch him from the bungalow," she replied, "she seemed most anxious to avoid your uncle."
And well she might.
She set about lighting the fire and removing her aunt's coat and had just rung for Mrs. Baddeley to provide tea when the door opened and Sir Thomas entered followed by Edmund. She quailed a little imagining that her preference for Jane Austen must make her seem guilty in his eyes. He will think I was all for it.
"I see my friend Christopher Jackson's handiwork here," he remarked as he sat down, "Well, at least it was Jane Austen, he is to be commended for that."
"No, sir, Kit had nothing to do with it - indeed, he supported Francie and I in our attempt to prevent it. Francie was the most adamant among us, she alone was utterly and unwaveringly against opposing your wishes..."
"Really, Francine?" he said with a gentle kiss, "Yes, I should have known I could rely on you."
Francie knew not how to reply. Her uncle sat down and continued to look grave,
"When do we expect Tom and Julie?" he asked.
"Some time today or tomorrow," replied Edmund.
"And Ria and Charles?"
"I believe they are at Sotherton already, sir. The renovations are complete and Ria is planning a huge party to celebrate."
Sir Thomas nodded, "I am sure they are all very happy. Come and sit by me, Francie, and tell me about Cambridge."
*Granchester Rupert Brooke
Part 15
Sir Thomas remained grave and silent for the next few days. Edmund took Mary out for long drives and Francie helped her Aunt Maria wrap presents and make final arrangements for various dinner parties and other celebrations. Of her cousins she saw nothing at all. Mr. Rushworth called to welcome his parents-in-law home but his wife waited three days before making a brief visit when she was sure her father was out.
On the fourth day Julie made her appearance followed by Tom who appeared penitential and was full of the extenuating circumstances which had forced him to act in a way so utterly opposed to his father's dearest wishes. Sir Thomas listened in stony silence: he had heard Tom's troubles before and had bailed him out of most of them. He could not undo what had been done and, having worked out the worst of his anger on Edmund earlier, could only be relieved that the film had not been a flop and would not cost him money as well as peace of mind. Tom finally left his father's study hugely relieved that he had got off so lightly and justifying his behaviour to himself, firstly, by thinking his father was an old fool and, secondly, by the fact that a lot of his friends had done much worse.
The first stage in decorating Mansfield Park for the festival was to fill all the principal rooms with evergreens; boughs, wreaths, garlands and pine cones. Mary seemed delighted with the custom and it seemed to Francie that she, at least, had never known a happier Christmas. It was hard not to feel guilty because Mary was so obviously lonely, so clearly in need of a family, in need of Edmund's love and protection that Francie fairly felt obliged to step down and let her have it. Indeed, she gladly shared Mansfield and Christmas and everything else but she could not gladly share Edmund. Not that sharing seemed to come into it. Edmund was Mary's and Mary's alone.
The decorating completed everyone sat round and looked at it with great satisfaction as Mrs. Baddeley and Maureen circulated with glasses of champagne and canapés. After the first glasses had been consumed and Sir Thomas had begun to pour the next Ria stood up.
"I have an announcement," she said, full of smiles, "Sotherton is complete and you are all invited to a party to celebrate!"
"Half the county has been invited," muttered Mr. Rushworth but no-one paid any attention to him.
"And... and..." she continued, "it will have a 'forties theme, you are all expected to dress up!"
"I love dressing up!" exclaimed Lady Bertram.
"I have good news for Mary, too. Henry is coming to the party, in fact, he should be here any moment!" Ria could no longer contain her smiles and broke into an infectious laughter soon echoed by Mary.
Francie and Edmund glanced at each other. How did Ria know Henry was arriving when Mary apparently did not?
"I hope he is not staying at Sotherton," murmured Edmund.
Francie gasped in mute comprehension. How truly dreadful!
Her fears were unfounded, however, when Henry arrived at Mansfield Park half an hour later and deposited his bags in the hall. Sir Thomas was as pleased with him as with the nephew of any old friend and was already much taken with Mary's wit and pretty face. Lady Bertram, too, seemed to like Henry which gave Francie little cause for comfort.
I hope this is a short leave!
She sat alone by the window. The others had fallen naturally into pairs: Mr. Rushworth and Aunt Norris, Sir Thomas and Lady Bertram, Ria and Julie... Edmund and Mary. She tried hard not to think about Edmund and Mary but the thought was always with her, the thought of Edmund whom she loved more than life itself in love with Mary Crawford. She turned her face towards the glass so that they would not see her eyes brim over supposing anyone were to look at her and that was unlikely.
"Francie?" She groaned inwardly; the voice was Henry's. "I've brought you a drink as you seem to be the only person in the room without one."
"Thank you," she muttered hoarsely. Now go away and leave me to my unhappiness. Go where you belong and be fêtéd by my cousins.
Most unaccountably he sat down opposite her.
"Are you quite well?"
"I am very well," stated Francie firmly, "perhaps I have a little hay-fever, that is all."
He looked closely, too closely, at her eyes. "Yes, I think it is hay-fever." He leaned over her and shut the window and she closed her eyes embarrassed at the unasked for yet unavoidable intimacy.
"I didn't know what you drink," he smiled, "so I made you a gin and tonic."
"I've never tried it," she said. "I don't often drink and when I do it is white wine."
Henry smiled. "Your uncle and Edmund consider it a ladylike drink, I suppose, and it is what your Aunt Maria prefers."
Francie had not thought of it that way but she supposed he must be right.
"And your Aunt Norris," he whispered, "what does she drink?"
Francie thought for a moment, "Sweet sherry," she whispered back.
Henry screwed up his nose, "Sherry is for trifles."
"Not Aunt Norris's, she puts orange juice on the sponge and lots of jelly."
"How very lower class of her," he murmured wickedly.
Francie forgot herself and laughed thereby attracting the attention of the room. Edmund's concern seemed mainly to be with her glass and Ria's with her company but it was Aunt Norris who stood up and demanded to know what the whispering and giggling was about and of course it was impossible to tell her.
"What are you drinking, Fanny?" she snapped, "Whatever it is it is making you drunk."
Francie blushed and tried to speak but Commander Crawford pre-empted her.
"It is gin and tonic," he said, "and she has not touched it yet."
Aunt Norris turned towards her sister with a scornful expression. "Gin. She's started drinking gin, just like her mother. Gin and orange, that was Frances's drink and look where it got her."
This time Francie's eyes really did fill up, she looked away from her aunt and towards the door.
"Mrs. Norris," began Henry firmly, "I mixed Francie's drink without asking her. I am a selfish being and assume that everyone likes what I like," he smiled rather disarmingly, "gin and tonic was a favourite drink of my mother's and I was not aware that it had become unladylike in the years since her death."
Aunt Norris reddened slightly and muttered something about Francie's extreme youth and inexperience before remembering that she had something vital to say to Mrs. Baddeley in the kitchen.
"Why does Mrs. Norris dislike your mother so?" he asked very gently when the others had forgotten them and returned to their original occupations. "The woman who produced you must have something wonderful going for her.
Francie took her first sip of gin and blinked back another tear. "Aunt Norris, Sir Thomas, Aunt Maria and my cousins all think badly of her because, in their words, she married to spite her family. My father was a marine."
Henry shrugged his shoulders, "I know a lot of marines, they're fine guys."
"It was not a happy marriage and... and according to Aunt Norris it only happened in the first place because of... because of me."
"I see," replied Henry seriously, "half the marriages there ever were started that way."
Francie had another mouthful of gin. "She says my mother was loose and I will turn out just like her."
"I cannot imagine anyone less likely to become immoral," said Henry solemnly, "and your aunt has a most curious definition of makes a woman loose."
Francie drank the last of her gin. "I have always felt guilty about it," she said quietly.
Henry shook his head and said nothing but after a few moments he got up and returned with two more glasses. "Shall I tell you a secret?" he smiled.
Unfortified Francie would have panicked at the idea of Commander Crawford, beloved as he was of Julie and Ria, offering to tell her secrets in front of her assembled family but the juniper berries had worked their magic and she merely smiled. He leaned over the little table and taking her hand whispered, "I was a honeymoon baby too."
It took Francie a few seconds to work out the euphemism but when she did it made her laugh yet again.
"Is that what they call it?" she giggled.
He nodded gravely.
Francie took another gulp of gin and laughed till she cried; not even Aunt Norris's stern figure in the doorway demanding that she come and help Maureen and Mrs. Baddeley with the food could damage her good humour and it lasted throughout the rest of the evening.
Part 16
A woman can never be too fine while she is all in white.
~~Jane Austen
"I am surprised at you, Francie," said Edmund as they started breakfast alone together, "I could not believe you drinking gin with Crawford and giggling like a schoolgirl."
Francie opened her mouth to protest that she had only ceased to be a schoolgirl a few months ago but she was frightened of him interpreting it as sarcasm so she paused and tried gently to explain that talking to Commander Crawford was better than not talking to anyone at all.
"You are right," he replied sorrowfully, "I neglected you."
"I did not mean it like that," she rejoindered, "I did not mean that you should feel guilty, it is all my fault for being so gauche and unable to participate normally."
Edmund groaned, "No, Francie. I am making a fool of myself over Mary, I know I am but time loses all meaning when I am with her. I sometimes wonder if I know the day of the week, I forget everything including who and what I am. The boundaries of passion and propriety seem to blur when I am with her."
Francie coloured slightly; she did not want to hear this. "Well, I promise you Edmund, time moves sedately and respectably for me when I am with her brother."
"Really?" replied Edmund in surprise. "I had thought he was becoming quite interested in you and if anyone could convert him to a settled and sensible way of life it would be you."
"I do not think he is interested in me," said Francie with more concern than conviction, "he was merely being kind because he was bored and had nothingelse to do. You will recall that Ria's attention seemed to be taken up with Mary and her costume."
Ria entered before Edmund had time to reply, she looked sourly at Francie for a moment before helping herself to a little dry toast and some black coffee.
"You had quite a little triumph last night," she sneered.
Francie did not dare reply, she knew Ria's spitefulness and had no wish to bring the consequences of arguing with it down upon her own head.
"Leave her be, Ria," demanded Edmund, "it is not her fault if Crawford chooses to entertain himself at her expense for an evening."
Ria frowned at him and took more coffee, "Mind if I smoke?"
"Yes, we do," Edmund answered for both of them, "smoking is disgusting at the best of times but at the table it is absolutely revolting. You should try food."
Ria scowled, "And a lot of good it will do me if I get fat like Julie!"
"All of a 130lb," muttered Edmund, "and you will never work for Armani again!"
"That's about it," snapped Ria, "I'll go out on the terrace and leave you to your tete-a-tete."
"Jealousy is a terrible thing," sighed Edmund, "but I daresay she will get over it."
Francie looked at Ria outside, "She must be freezing."
"Well, I don't want secondary cancer," remarked Edmund, "pass the toast. Good morning mother, good morning Mary."
Ria came in again straightaway, "So, have you decided what you're wearing to my party, Mary?"
Mary shrugged, "I don't want to dress up, I'll find something."
"No, you must wear something 'forties, mustn't she, mother? Please, Mary, you agreed last night that you would."
"I believe you must, my dear," smiled Lady Bertram, "you will feel terribly out of place on the night if you do not."
"No one will notice me," said Mary, "it won't matter."
"Everyone will notice you," replied Ria aggressively, "I will notice you. Please come into town with Julie and Ruth and me and see what there is..."
At last Mary consented and the four of them set off in great spirits. Francie was not invited; she did not mind for she was used to being missed out but Edmund professed strongly to mind on her behalf.
"It is nothing," she insisted, "truthfully, Edmund, I can find my own costume."
"I will find Francie a costume," said Lady Bertram resolutely, "you may return to your books, Edmund, but do give Commander Crawford a call because I do not think he should still be in bed this late."
Edmund left and Francie was alone with her aunt.
"I have some real 1940's clothes in the attic," she smiled, "I was going to tell the others but they were so rude not inviting you or me out with them that I decided not to. My mother, your grandmamma, had some lovely things and hopefully they are well preserved. I have not looked at them these fifteen years at least, will you accompany me?"
Francie could not resist the opportunity to see her grandmother's things and within fifteen minutes she was closeted with Lady Bertram in the glory-hole.
"I am glad they were not in an attic proper," said Lady Bertram as she began opening trunks, "I am no good with stepladders."
She rummaged through a few trunks and boxes while handing Francie several old photograph albums.
"See, that is your Grandfather Ward - isn't he the very image of Edmund? Or rather, Edmund is the very image of him."
Francie smiled and agreed. "Who is this?" she pointed at a young man in uniform.
"Oh, that is Captain Harry Campbell... he was very dashing and your Great Aunt Fanny almost married him but he was killed by a U-boat. Just as well, really, for he wasn't very steady although he did have the looks. She was much better off with Mr Fullerton, for although he was not very dashing, he was definitely stable."
Francie stared for a long time at the faded photograph of the long dead and unstable Captain Campbell. Lady Bertram, meanwhile, seemed to be looking for something in particular for many dresses and other items were pulled out of the trunks without a mention although many of them seemed very lovely and entirely appropriate.
"Ah, here it is!" she cried, "Look, Francie, Mamma's uniform from 1940!"
"I didn't know she was a wren," smiled Francie holding the uniform against herself, "it is very smart."
"The WRNS were always considered the ladies' service," smiled her aunt, "very smart indeed."
Francie decided she did not want a naval officer's uniform and so Lady Bertram opted to wear it herself with a good deal of satisfaction in still having as slender a figure as her mother had at twenty.
"This is for you!" she cried a few moments later as she held up a silvery silk and taffeta creation, "it is a genuine New Look gown. Mamma bought it to celebrate getting her twenty-one inch waist back after having me!"
Francie laughed and aided by her aunt quickly scrambled into the dress. It might have been made for her it fitted so beautifully.
"You look perfect!" cried Lady Betram sitting down on a packing case to better admire her niece, "tomorrow we will go out and buy proper shoes and you will be the belle of the ball. No one will be able to resist you!"
Francie stood entranced in front of the old mirror. It was dusty and had a huge crack down the centre but still she could see that Lady Bertram was making a good point - she might not be the belle of the ball, not with Mary and Ria to compete with, but she would be stunning. Stunning enough for Edmund?
"Is there anyone special you want to invite?" said Lady Bertram unexpectedly.
"No," Francie was so anxious she almost stammered, "no, no-one special, thank you auntie."
She could not tell her aunt how much she loved Edmund because Sir Thomas's objection to attachments between cousins had been made abundantly clear when Tom had wanted to date his sister's daughter. Francie had cried all night after Sir Thomas had informed Tom he did not approve of his relationship with Fiona Bertram-Stuart, who was rich, glamorous, and president of her own public relations company. If he disapproved of her, how much more would he disapprove of a little nobody from Portsmouth?
"I would like to see you with someone nice," sighed her aunt, "a really lovely man, darling, someone who would really appreciate you."
The New Look and the wren's uniform were packed carefully in boxes with tissue paper and taken away by Mrs Baddeley to a specialist dry-cleaners. Lady Bertram consulted with the Christmas caterers and Francie went for a wander in the garden. It was really too cold to be outside, or Edmund would think so, but he was safely in his room dealing with the heretics of the third century. She wrapped up warmly and headed for the pagoda with her books and Edmund's laptop. Unfortunately Henry Crawford was standing on the bridge smoking, and, unless she wanted to walk the circumference of the lake there was no other route to the pagoda. She groaned and resisted the temptation to stamp her foot for he would surely notice her if she did and turned quietly to go back into the house. Too late.
"Francie!"
There was no way to pretend she hadn't heard. She turned reluctantly, regretting last night and wishing she hadn't been so cosy with him.
Why did I do it? Why does he affect me in a way I don't want to be affected?
"Good morning, Commander Crawford, well, it's afternoon but morning to you, am I right?"
He smiled, "Formal and sarcastic. I thought you were a sweet little thing."
Francie did not reply; he did not deserve the compliment of a reply. Sweet little thing!
She had hoped silence would drive him away but she was mistaken. They dawdled over the bridge and past the trees that hid the pagoda, she was not sharing her refuge with him. It was bad enough having shown Mary the heated greenhouses.
"Are you feeling quite alright?" she enquired after a while noticing he seemed rather pale.
"I have a slight headache," he replied with a hint of a smile.
"You should put more tonic in your gin, then," she said unsympathetically. Of course, he had been up for hours with Ria and Tom and the others. Strange, though, that they were alright - except that Tom hadn't been seen - and Henry who was supposed to be a libertine was wandering in the garden with a hangover.
"I will try to remember. You know I missed you when I left here in September."
Francie felt dismayed, he sounded rather awkward and therefore sincere but she was aware that he was more than capable of playing that part very well. She knew he had kept in touch with Ria and while some married women might be able to maintain an innocent relationship with an attractive man she knew Ria was not one of them.
"I did not miss you," she answered, "I have not had time to miss anyone."
"Of course you have not," he smiled, "how is Cambridge these days?"
Cambridge. You went to Cambridge. Do we have to share everything with you and your sister?
"Which college?" she asked trying to be polite as she heard Edmund's car start up. I don't believe it, Edmund is going out and I have missed the chance to go with him because of you!
"King's and I read art history. Have you been there?"
"I've been to Evensong in the chapel." Bet you didn't do that often.
"You don't like me much, Miss Price."
Francie paused, "No, I don't, Commander Crawford."
"I thought we were getting along quite well last night."
"I must have been drunk, then."
"Nonsense! You were not drunk but you do disapprove of me, don't you?"
"Should I? Do you do anything I might disapprove of?"
"Francie, I very much want us to be friends."
"Really? Well, I am particular about my friends and I do not believe you are the kind of man who can be friends with a woman. You are a flirt and you are flirting with my cousin and she is a married woman. I do not like that. And your sister is making a fool of Edmund and I don't like that either!"
"Oh, I see," he said quietly.
Francie glared at him for a moment. She was quite sure he did not see even if she had been a fool and let him see she cared for Edmund, that was all he had seen. He was the kind of man who would only ever be concerned with his own vanity and ego.
She ran from him into the house almost knocking Tom over on the way. He looked very bad, much worse than Henry, but she had no spare sympathy.
"I hate you, Henry Crawford, I hate you!" She thumped the pillow a few times with her old teddy-bear and burying her head in it fell into a paroxysm of tears.
If only Henry Crawford and his sister would get out of my life! He has no right to do this to me - I don't even like him! And I hate his sister, I could deal with myself but I can't deal with her. Why doesn't she go back to her boyfriend in London - she's only using Edmund because she can't have who she really wants....
She wept for another twenty minutes or so until she heard Edmund's car returning and decided to get up and wash her face in cold water not that it made much difference.
Now I have to avoid him until the puffiness goes, she though resentfully.
Her room overlooked the back of the house and from the window she could see Mary and Ria getting out of his car, it looked as though Julie and Aunt Norris had decided to stay in town and so Edmund had collected the other two from the station. She sighed as he picked up Ria's bags and carried them into the house. I wonder what Mary has got to wear to the party? I don't suppose Edmund will look at me even in that gorgeous dress of Grandma's...
Henry wandered into sight at that point and she withdrew to the corner of the window; appearing to be interested was the worst mistake she could make now, if she did that he would never go or at least be back every single leave until Mary finally destroyed Edmund and he was no longer welcome. She saw him tell Mary something and shrug his shoulders dismissively and Mary give him a small hug and then turned back to her dressing-table and the green base cream that she hoped would make her flushed complexion decent again.
There was a knock on the door and Mary's head appeared, "May I come in?"
Francie nodded, there was no acceptable way of refusing. "Did you get something to wear?"
Mary nodded, "Yes, eventually. Ria wanted me to be glamorous but to tell you the truth, Francie, I do not feel glamorous lately."
"I am sure Ria will have enough glamour for all of us," said Francie. Now, I have been polite, go away!
Mary sat down and tipped the contents of the silver gift bag she held on to the dressing table. It was a dark blue box of the kind used by exclusive jewellers.
"I have just seen your aunt and Mrs Baddeley in the hall," she said, "and they showed me your silver dress. It is quite lovely and I wondered if, perhaps, you needed something to go with it..."
She opened the box and held out a string of silvery, translucent pearls. "They were a gift to me once but I never wear pearls."
Francie took them for lack of an alternative, "They are pretty," she said, not knowing how to tell the difference between valuable pearls and costume jewellery from the chemist, but liking the elegant swirl of the clasp anyway.
"If you like them they are yours," said Mary simply, "I should like to see them worn at last."
Francie gasped, "Oh, no, Mary - I couldn't!"
"You must. It is Christmas, you cannot refuse a gift, and as I said it is not new." She smiled.
Francie replaced the pearls in their box and bag with a good deal of wonderment. She was rather pleased with her acquisition as she knew she had nothing in her own collection appropriate to her Grandmother's dress. She could have wished herself grateful to another person for it but that was uncharitable; Mary had proven herself a friend by anticipating her needs and she could not be ungracious.
"They are lovely," she said, "and whenever I wear them I shall always think of you." Hopefully I will not have much occasion to wear them.
Mary smiled her perfect approbation and for a moment it seemed to Francie she was going to tell her something, a confidence perhaps. The moment passed, however, and Francie was glad for she did not wish to be Mary Crawford's confidante and on the subject of her feelings for Edmund it would be unbearable.
She continued to sit in her room and a short while later was rewarded with another knock on the door. This time it was Edmund and there could be no reluctance whatever in admitting him.
"I thought I would give you your present early," he said, "so that you might wear it to Ria's party."
Francie opened the box in great excitement - it contained a little white gold heart with a single diamond on a simple chain.
"Oh, Edmund!" she gasped, "Thank you - it the most beautiful thing I have ever seen and it is ideal for my party dress."
"I thought I should get you something special," he said, "as I did not buy anything significant on your eighteenth birthday."
Francie, overcome with a thousand feelings of pain and pleasure could barely attempt to speak. "It is the loveliest thing I have ever seen," she said when she could find words.
Edmund smiled and offered to fasten it for her when she tried it on. The touch of his hands on the back of her neck made her tremble and blush a little so that she was as relieved as she was disappointed when the procedure was finally over - he was rather clumsy at such things - and she could admire it properly in the mirror.
"What is this?" Edmund picked up the blue box.
"Some old pearls Mary gave me," she replied timidly, not wanting Edmund to think she had been canvassing about for jewellery to borrow.
"That was kind of her," he said gently, "she is so kind, Francie, she always puts others first but you can give them back now and thank her for being so kind as to lend them to you."
"I think she meant them as a gift," said Francie and immediately bit her tongue.
"A gift?" repeated Edmund, "Well, you had better not give them back then."
He laughed and opened the box but as the pearls slipped out on to his hand he stopped laughing abruptly.
"Did you say some old pearls?"
Francie nodded, "Yes, she said they were an unwanted gift."
"Then they are a new unwanted gift," he replied, "this is Mappin & Webb's new style of box."
"Mappin & Webb?" repeated Francie, "Perhaps I ought to give them back, they must be very expensive."
"Indeed so," said Edmund slowly, "but a gift is a gift, Francie, and you cannot return them. If she wants you to have them then you must keep them and wear them, they are far more deserving than my little trinket."
"But I want to wear your necklace!" she cried.
"You can wear mine any time," he said sensibly, "and Francie, I could not bear a shadow of coolness between you and Mary at this time, your growing friendship is most precious to me."
Francie was silent. What friendship?
"I would not have a coolness arise," he repeated, his voice sinking a little, "between the two dearest friends I have on this earth. Did she by any chance say who gave her the pearls?"
"No!" said Francie near to tears, "No, she did not."
Edmund sighed deeply, "They are lovely."
"Oh." Francie did not care. She only knew that she did not want to wear some cast-off from one of Mary's rich boyfriends when she could be wearing Edmund's gift and yet here was Edmund himself insisting she do it.
He left her to tranquilize her feelings as best she could. She was one of his two dearest and that must be a comfort to her. But the other! The first! She had heard him speak of his feelings before and more openly but this time he had expressed himself with such determination, such longing... it was a stab to her heart. He would marry Mary if he could and she had better get used to it. She thought often of them dancing together at Sotherton
In daunsinge, signifying matrimonie,* she thought disconsolately. And he is deceived in her... he gives her merits she does not possess... he no longer sees her faults... she does not deserve him!
She could not face the family downstairs now without agitation and excused herself from dinner and try as she might she could not exorcise the dejection which followed, not even by fervent prayers for his happiness.
*From 'Little Gidding by T.S.Eliot
Part 17
Hey, I saw her guy with a different girl!
Looks like he's in another world,
Run and hide Sunday girl.
~~Deborah Harry
The evening of the twenty-first, predestined to hope and enjoyment, came. Francie, whose social life had been limited to drinking orange juice in one of Cambridge's Student Unions felt rather apprehensive. She could dance, she knew that, but she wished it was possible to do it unobserved, a longing which she knew to be ridiculous; in short, a record-player, an empty room and Edmund were all she required. The thought of dancing with Edmund even a little cheered her up but Aunt Norris's crossness at not being allowed to Sotherton to superintend the arrangements made her feel at last that everything connected with the dance was a source of misery.
She finally escaped from Mrs. Norris although not without many warnings and worries and ran upstairs to dress. Grandmamma's gown had returned from the cleaners mended and in perfect condition, it might have bought yesterday it was so fresh and bright. The silver shoes bought from a dance-wear shop, the only ones to sell anything appropriate, sparkled on her feet and the silk stockings which Aunt Maria said had to be worn to be totally authentic felt like the ultimate in luxury.
When she had finished her foundation and eye-liner Mrs. Chapman, Lady Bertram's favourite beautician, arrived to help her but as the only things she could have done usefully were already done Francie sent her away with many thanks to her aunt. She even managed to fasten the dress herself and at last after a longing gaze at Edmund's necklace she forced herself to put on the pearls and went downstairs to join the others.
Lady Bertram was in the drawing room in her mother's WRNS uniform pouring drinks for everyone and giggling too much. Pug sat on the sofa in high dudgeon because although his collar was decorated with red ribbons he was not invited and had only a scrap-bag to look forward to later on.
"You look perfect, Francine!" she cried, "Doesn't she just look gorgeous? I sent Mrs. Chapman to her, of course."
Sir Thomas agreed and heartily commended her taste without seeming to realize that the dress had been his wife's idea.
"Gorgeous? Oh, I would not go that far Maria but you have certainly been good to her tonight. We have all been good to her for a very long time, she would not look half so attractive had she been brought up by her mother, no indeed! Why she would have no taste, no style, absolutely nothing..."
"Quite, quite, Ruth," said Sir Thomas wishing to break her hateful tirade against her younger sister of whom he knew no real harm besides her being foolish enough to marry a marine.
Francie accepted a glass of wine from her aunt and had only to wait to see what celestial creation Mary Crawford had found to wear. She appeared a few moments later dressed as a Red Cross nurse. Francie could not decide whether she appeared to advantage or disadvantage beside her now; however, the white headdress only showed off her dark curls and rosy complexion to a heightened degree and nothing could dampen the sparkle of her eyes and Francie began to feel overdressed and stupid. Edmund followed a few moments later in his Grandfather's old evening suit which looked remarkably good on him.
"Well," he said linking arms with both Mary and Francie, "are we ready?"
"No, we are not," chided Lady Bertram, "Mary has not had a drink and we do not have her brother."
Edmund sighed and went back upstairs to lure Henry down.
"I hope he has dressed up," said Lady Bertram, "we already have one spoilsport in the family!" She glowered at Tom who helped himself to another drink and ignored her.
"Henry's a good egg," said Mary cheerfully, "I'm sure he's found something although I can't think what."
Henry, as it turned out, had not found anything and decided at the last minute between mufti and his own uniform. He had decided in favour of the uniform and with it put himself in favour with every lady at the party. If a naval officer's uniform is usually smart with its dark blue, white and gold, then on Henry Crawford it was stunning. His features certainly lacked classical symmetry although he did have rather fine eyes and clear skin; his nose was odd and his mouth slightly crooked (his teeth were good) but no-one could deny that his body was as flawless as his face was not.
He dressed carefully for a man who had given no previous thought to what he should wear. Edmund Bertram might throw on a check shirt and tweed jacket, run his hands through his blond hair and immediately forget what he looked like but Commander Henry Crawford was the very reverse. He walked slowly down Mansfield's main staircase behind Edmund who was worried about being late and anxious not to disappoint his sister. Henry had no qualms about Ria, the only woman he did not want to disappoint stood in the hall beneath him and, as he paused slightly to straighten the gold rings on his cuffs he was briefly aware of her admiration but it was so momentary that even with his vanity he could not be quite sure of it.
She, on the other hand, was intent on not looking again in his direction and with greater fortitude and presence of mind than is normally found in ladies of eighteen she knew she would succeed. Until...
"Ah, now that you have joined us," said Sir Thomas, "we have only to think about which cars to take... as we will be staying over at Sotherton we need only worry about how to get there."
Lady Bertram blinked in surprise, "But darling, I have that sorted. You will take Edmund, Francie and myself in the blue one and Tom may take Mary and Henry in his."
"I don't think Tom should be driving," said Edmund quickly.
"No, indeed," hiccuped Tom, "think I'm pissed already, Dad."
Sir Thomas gave his eldest son a withering look, "Very well. You've had a couple by now, I expect, Edmund?"
Edmund wrinkled his nose, "Only this one but I'd still rather not drive."
Lady Bertram giggled again, "Well, I'm as tipsy as a goose!"
Francie had never heard of geese getting tipsy but she supposed Aunt Maria knew what she was talking about.
"I'm sober," volunteered Henry, "but I haven't brought my car."
"Here, catch!" Tom threw him the keys of the Alfa Romeo, "Take Francie and I'll go with the old folk!"
Sir Thomas frowned deeply but Tom was well beyond caring. Henry only grinned as he caught the keys and much to Francie's chagrin no-one contradicted Tom's suggestion. How to maintain a frigid demeanour all the way to Sotherton was a question not easily answered and how little time she had to solve it! In an unwelcome moment she was in the front of the Alfa snuggled in Lady Bertram's loaned grey velvet cape.
"You look like Holly Golightly,"* said Henry as he slipped into the driver's seat with a few CDs in his hand.
"So I've been told," said Francie coldly. So far so good.
"Put some music on," he said smiling.
Francie rifled through the CDs obligingly, "I don't recognize any of them," she said. Remember, you're a lot older than me.
"Try Debbie Harry."
"Who?"
He leaned over her, a little too close. "Okay, Simon and Garfunkel. Don't tell me you've never heard of them!"
Francie hadn't but she sat back at let the music drift over her.
Many's the time I've been mistaken and many times confused,
Yes, and often felt forsaken and certainly misused...**
At least it had words; if she had been with Tom there wouldn't have been any words or music, just a racket.
"Am I forgiven for yesterday?" he asked.
"Have you done anything meritorious?" she replied.
He sighed deeply and slammed down on the accelerator, they sped past Sir Thomas driving lugubriously at 40mph.
"We're going too fast," she cried, "you can't fly a car!"
"No? Turn the music up, will you?"
It was the last thing she wanted but anything to keep his hands on the wheel.
"This is the life," he smiled, "a fast car and a country road..."
Francie felt sick. "Can't you do this in your Jaguar without me ?"
"Never drive the Jag in winter!"
"Is this better or worse than a Jaguar?" she attempted to make conversation for the sake of staying sane and to prevent herself looking at the speedometer.
"The Jag is better but there's something special about an Alfa!"
Francie shrank back in the seat. Oh, God, I'm going to die! If only I had flirted with him he would have to have driven slowly.
*Holly Golightly is Audrey Hepburn's character in Breakfast at Tiffany's**American Tune -- Paul Simon
Part 18
It seemed to mean so little, meant so much;
If only now I could recall that touch,
First touch of hand in hand - Did one but know!
~~Christina Rossetti
Unexpectedly they made the ten miles to Sotherton without any major mishap although not without narrowly avoiding several minor ones. Ria, attired gloriously in gold lamé, greeted them immediately and rather too affectionately for Francie's liking.
"Henry," she chided gently, "you will start the dancing, I meant it."
Francie tried not to read anything into that but it was obvious they had promised each other the first dance. Sir Thomas and the others arrived shortly afterwards and after a few words about Henry's driving, which Mary seemed to find quite amusing, Francie learned that they were also engaged for the first dance.
Not so long ago, you would have disapproved of her pride in her brother's reckless driving but now you smile and ignore it.
She stood alone as the guests continued to arrive and formed into cosy little groups; Sir Thomas and Lady Bertram were extremely popular and everyone wished to hear about their holiday. Tom knew absolutely everyone and Mary seemed to know everyone even thought it was only her second visit to the county and Francie who had lived there eight years knew no-one at all.
The effects of education, she thought enviously, or the effects of finishing school, if you can call that education.
"Don't stand around like a tin of milk, Francine," hissed Mrs. Norris with a cruel jab in the small of her back, "I will not have you making a fool of your uncle like that!"
Francie sighed and moved away from her aunt. Henry reappeared from somewhere just as the room was filling up and it was hard not to see how almost every woman looked at him. Whether it was the man or the uniform she was not sure but she knew it could do his vanity no good at all.
Mr. Rushworth clambered on to the dais beside the orchestra and started a speech about the glories of Sotherton (but without mentioning Francie's poplars). Everyone waited patiently; Rushworth's speeches, particularly his forty-two in the House, were a great joke amongst those who were rarely obliged to listen to him. Ria was the least patient, her husband embarrassed her now more than ever before. She whispered to Henry and he, in turn, whispered something to the band-leader.
"Francie?" It was Henry Crawford. She instinctively turned away but he would not go.
"Will you dance with me, please?"
Francie was not old enough or experienced enough to resist an arrogant man when he looks vulnerable; she was also beginning to think she would be without a partner for the first dance and could not bear the thought of Mrs. Norris fussing around asking various men to do the very great favour of dancing with my niece.
She consented. Her happiness, though, was finely chequered. She had done her duty by her uncle and saved her own face and she had done it by securing the most sought after man in the room. However, there was something in his manner of asking that she could not identify and which made her uncomfortable, and she saw his eye glancing for a moment at her pearls with a slight smile that made her blush and feel a little nervous.
"I thought you intended to dance with Ria?" she said attempting to overcome her embarrassment with conversation and a very necessary question.
"And so I will," he replied, "but this dance is yours. I will be back in a moment, just give me one minute with my sister."
Francie let him go without any sense of loss and was immediately taken aside by her uncle.
"Has Commander Crawford asked you to dance?" he enquired anxiously.
"Yes," replied Francie with an unmeant smile.
That was exactly what he had wished to hear. Henry by that time had returned from his hurried conference with Mary and Sir Thomas, with a meaningful look, took it upon himself to put Francie's hand in his.
The dancing began with the novelty of being placed above so many elegant young women simply by being Commander Crawford's chosen partner. The distinction was almost too great! She did not pretend to herself, however, that it did not make her an object of hatred for both her cousins and Mrs. Norris. Ria's looks in particular were decidedly vicious for she was reduced to dancing with her husband, an activity she considered the greatest of punishments. Francie tried to feel sorry for her but it was too much effort, Ria had married Charles Rushworth with her eyes open and apparently not for his abilities on the dance floor.
It must be confessed that she was as ignorant of Glenn Miller's music as of Simon and Garfunkel's and so the significance of the music did not strike her although it did occur to her that Henry had asked for that particular tune. He was wearing the same cologne he had worn the last time they were at Sotherton together and strangely the feel of his hand on her waist was not at all unpleasant, no, Henry Crawford was not an unpleasant man to be close to. He was in good spirits having forgotten his bad temper in the car and did his best to impart them to her but her feelings were becoming more confused by the minute. She regretted her initial delight in dancing with the man that Ria wanted and she was rapidly becoming unnerved by being looked at by everyone. She could not know that she was being praised; her looks, the fact that she was Sir Thomas's niece and that she had gained the admiration of Commander Crawford was enough to give her general favour.
The second dance was more to her liking as she managed to find the courage to ask Edmund herself lest Henry be vain enough to assume she would dance with him twice. To her amusement Sir Thomas danced with Mary Crawford and not only did he do an extremely nimble quickstep but seemed to be enjoying himself very much. Mary, having little to say to him, found her best course at least at the start was to compliment Francie of whom he seemed very proud. Her praise was warm and sincere and he participated in it as well as his general discretion of manner would allow. Her fondness for Francie, however, did not go as far as to allow her to repeat that praise to Mrs. Norris, Ria or Julie.
To Francie, however, increased attempts at friendship were aggravating and embarrassing. If Mary meant to flatter, to give her delightful sensations of self-consequence she failed utterly.
"Perhaps you can tell me, Francine, why my brother insists on stopping off for a few days in London on his way back to his ship? He says he has important business but he will not tell me what."
"You cannot imagine I know," replied Francie resentfully. Please go and beguile someone else, Miss Crawford, you do not deceive me.
"You do not? I find that hard to believe... but this is what it comes to, we are all supplanted sooner or later."
"I am not in your brother's confidence," said Francie firmly and walked away from her.
She heard Mary's laughter as she turned to speak to Ria and her embarrassment grew steadily as she imagined what their conversation might be. After a while, from the safety of the dance floor for James Maddox had asked her to dance, she observed Ria and Mary part and Ria approach Henry in a fury.
It must be due to me but what? What have I done since dancing with him?
She puzzled herself into a headache over it. Ria had danced several times with Henry and had had a good deal of his attention but for the time she chose to speak with Mary. She worried about it so much and the necessity of avoiding Ria and Mrs. Norris that when she went to find herself some food she was quite exhausted. Edmund, whom she met at the table, was scarcely less so.
"I have been making meaningless, polite conversation all night," he said as she passed him a plate, "thank God for you, Francie, you don't expect a flow of empty compliments and trivia!"
Does Mary? I hope so!
"Oh, Francie, I don't know what to do for the best. Should I stay in law, do you think? Mary feels I have a better chance of helping people by remaining in my own profession than in becoming a priest. She says ordination will take me further from those I wish to serve and, in short, she sees it as some sort of cop-out. A country parish, she informs me, is a featherbed and if I loved God as I claim to I would do something constructive!"
Like the occasional legal aid case? She listened patiently and put out of her head all reasoning for she had learned it did not work against Miss Crawford and replied very simply, "Well, she would say that, she is not a believer."
Edmund groaned, "I know. I know. I persuaded her into a sort of church attendance, I even talked her into getting baptized and have now learned to my sorrow the truth of the adage, convert a man against his will, he's of the same opinion still. No, we have talked, we have been silent, I have explained, she has ridiculed, on and on and on. I cannot face her again tonight."
Francie felt quite savage being happy when Edmund was so obviously suffering but she could help herself; some happiness must arise from the fact that he was beginning to see Mary's true colours.
"How are you getting on with Henry?" he asked just as Francie had begun to hope they were through with the Crawfords for the night.
"Tolerably," she replied, "but I do not like him, Edmund. He drove here like a demon and danced with me only to spite Ria and I danced with him because I thought I would have no-one else. We did make civilized conversation, though, and he complimented me nicely and I returned the kindness. However, I am in hopes of never seeing him again, does that answer your question?"
"Absolutely," he said with a smile and some surprise.
All hope deserted her, however, when half an hour later she overheard Mary apologize to Edmund and had the shame of seeing him go back on everything he had told her and become as doting as ever. And, at that point, Henry Crawford chose to ask her to dance again. She consented on the grounds that Edmund would not be allowed to think she was perpetually available for him.
The dance, was appropriately enough, In the Christmas Mood, a quickstep which Henry did beautifully, much better than Edmund who could really only manage a slow waltz. The next dance, however, was exactly that and Francie simply stayed on the dance floor with Henry as he showed no inclination to leave it. She was tired by this time, it was at least three a.m. and it seemed the most natural thing (given that she was tired and had had a few drinks) to lean her head on his shoulder and he made no resistance. He smelt wonderful; she was terribly aware that there was a kind of physical elation involved in being close to him but it did not bear analyzing. That dance ended and Sir Thomas was at her side wishing her goodnight and smiling encouragingly at the idea of her staying up all night if she wished. She, however, did not want to be without his presence if Ria got angry with her and immediately followed her Aunt and Uncle out of the room.
Henry went with her to the foot of the stairs. "I have a confession to make," he said.