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Chapter 20B
A quarter of an hour later, Melissa was at the Mansfield stables again, but this time she met up with only Edmund.
"Is not Miss Price to join us?"
"No," smiled Edmund as he helped her upon a horse. "I think we will let Fanny sleep this morning."
The sun blinded their eyes as they rode towards the end of the Park, giving Edmund the idea that perhaps they would be better off riding left, then to the shaded lane that had been built before the time and ideas of Repton.
"There is a creek that flows there," pointed out Edmund, looking down upon her. "I think you may like it."
"If you think I will, then I am sure I shall," smiled Melissa.
Neither of them felt much like talking when they passed by the trees. Looking at the foliage that was wildly, though prettily, mixed among tall and untrimmed trees, Melissa guessed that the Mansfield gardeners found it unnecessary to keep up the yard that was acres off from the main house. Plants that grew tamely in the garden were imitated here, or perhaps originated, though they grew tall and freely in the small forest alongside the trail. Melissa's eyes fell upon yellow roses; they reminded her of Tim, of their nervous acting together. She sighed and tried to shake the feelings off when they came to the creek.
"Here it is," smiled Edmund. "Shall I help you down, Miss Crawford? I am sorry that we do not keep benches here, but perhaps you would not mind sitting on the rocks?"
"I think it would be delightful," said Melissa cordially. Of course she had no fears of the stolid Boy, but his smiles and his temper were rather surprising to her; she was more worried about what he might say than what he might do.
"I--perhaps you may wonder why I have brought you here," began Edmund, his voice quavering nervously. "You will say that woods and flowers do not make up a setting you would associate with me, which is true. But I have something to tell you--or rather, to ask you."
"Mr. Bertram?" Melissa inquired.
"Well, I do not know if you have noticed, but I certainly have been aware of feelings I have towards you. I have thought you a rather agreeable person since I met you, but it began to develop into something different . . ." He paused, watching the rushing of the current and the leaves that lazily dipped into the water and followed it. "What I mean to say is that I am in love with you--indeed, it is true, Miss Crawford. I love the air that surrounds you and the tiles you step on, and I think I could even forgive your wrongdoings."
"Indeed, Sir?" Melissa was quite shocked and could only look at him, wide-eyed.
"It is true," smiled Edmund, gaining confidence. "I love you, Miss Crawford, and I wish to propose to you. I believe you would make an excellent wife, so I am asking you to marry me."
Melissa turned away, her mouth slightly open and having no idea what to say. She knew she really didn't want to marry this man, but she didn't want to say no . . . she quickly decided her best course of action would be to stall.
"I must say, Mr. Bertram, that I am quite surprised by your words. Allow me to thank you kindly for your generous offer--I am honored beyond expression--but I am so confused, I know not what to say. If you would allow me--oh, I am so bewildered!" she said with a small laugh, blushing as she looked at his face to see his reaction.
He displayed no visible emotion, either joyous or sad, except Melissa perceived a softness in his features. "If you should like time to consider my proposals, Miss Crawford, you may have as much as you like. I only beg you to consider an acceptance of them, for I love you most devotedly. I believe our souls irrevocably joined, and would lament any enforced parting of them."
Melissa's eyes widened in surprise. I never realized that Edmund had such poetry and passion in him! "I thank you most gratefully, Mr. Bertram, and assure you that I will consider your offer most seriously." She then rose, and began to walk over to where the horses waited. "If you would forgive me, but I believe I should like to head back to the house now. I have much to think over."
"I can only thank you for considering my offer so carefully," Edmund gallantly replied, and he helped her to remount her horse. He then said, "If you would not lament the loss of my company too much, I admit I should like to stay here for a while alone."
"I should not like keep you from meditation--I hold you excused."
He smiled at her with such tenderness that it made her eyes widen, and she quickly rode off as soon as it was polite to. Her head was filled with thoughts, and she wanted to reach the Park as soon as she could to talk with some one, though she did not know who. Fanny, she could not; Melissa had no intention to hurt the girl's feelings. Henry would only teaze Melissa, and Mrs. Grant would probably attack her with questions. Could she talk to Tim? He probably would have laughed with her over the proposal before, but now . . .
So Melissa decided to keep the question a secret for the moment. It had been a big enough surprise for her; she could not see why Edmund had proposed to her so early--much earlier than in the book. Well, maybe I have something over Mary Crawford! she thought, trying to make herself laugh.
And Edmund's words . . . they were so unlike Edmund! Did he really love her? He was Edmund, yes, but he had gone to her head some how. She did not quite like to think of it.
When she arrived at the stables to dismount her horse, Melissa was pleasantly surprised to see Mr. Yates on a morning stroll.
"Mr. Yates!" she cried out, running up to him.
"Ah! Miss Crawford! A pleasant surprise!" he said with a smile, and a gallant bow. "Do you like my outfit?" he asked, gesturing to his midnight blue pantaloons, his shiny boots with their white tops and gold tassels, his orange-spangled waistcoat and his dark maroon jacket. His cravat was knotted in the Mathematical, and his shirtpoints were high and starched like his curls.
"Words always fail me, Mr. Yates, when I think of how to describe your outfits," said Melissa truthfully.
He smiled and nodded at this compliment, highly pleased. "Shall we walk on?" he asked, offering his arm that she accepted.
"How is the family?" she asked casually.
"They seem to be in good humor--I meant to talk to Tom about the scenery for Lovers' Vows, but he seemed distracted."
"What?"
"Well, I was thinking of all the scenes we needed, the props . . ."
"No; you said Mr. Bertram was disturbed?"
Mr. Yates scratched his head. "I believe so, yes. It was an unhappy circumstance, especially as someone needs to talk to Christopher Jackson and a painter must be hired soon if it will ever be done."
"Indeed; I think I shall perhaps try and talk to Mr. Bertram now, and I will urge him strongly to hire a painter right away," she said, releasing his hand.
"Indeed! how very good of you, Miss Crawford! Thank you!" Yates declared, pleased. She gave a slight curtsey, then headed decisively towards the house, desirous for words with Tim.
Happily, she found him alone, sitting on a chair with his feet up and his face staring meditatively across the room. He immediately stood up when he saw her.
"Melissa."
She smiled as she found a seat opposite him and sat down. "Mr. Yates told me I could find you in here. Have you seen him today? He looks as much like Liberace as ever."
Tim laughed. "Then you were looking for me?"
"Yes--Henry was rather surprised last night, you know."
A half smile came to Tim's lips. "I had some explaining to do here, too. I'm sorry about that."
"No; don't be," said Melissa, fearing that she sounded awkward.
"I--I don't always do that."
"Oh?" she laughed. "I was rather imagining you to be Tim Brookston, the great flirt of London."
"Well, you can imagine me that if you'd like to," he said with a smile, "but honestly I don't go kissing every girl I meet in London. It seems that there aren't enough girls I'd like to kiss there," he laughed. "Perhaps there's something in the Thames."
"Oh, perhaps," she laughed, and continued teasingly. "After all, you have kissed none of the other girls here . . . you certainly could not have kissed your sisters, nor Mrs. Grant as she is already married, and I believe Fanny would not take kindly to being kissed by single men."
"I said that I do not go around kissing girls idly, Melissa. It was a mistake, and I said I was sorry, and I'd prefer not to hear about it again," said Tim stiffening, his voice betraying irritation.
"I am sorry to trouble you so," replied Melissa tonelessly. A mistake? He didn't mean to kiss me? Quickly, she said, "Mr. Yates wanted me to tell you that someone needs to talk to Christopher Jackson and that a painter must be hired for the scenery."
"I'll talk to Jackson about that," he replied distractedly. He sat for a few moments, obviously thinking about something, and then suddenly he asked, "Where is Edmund?"
"The Boy wanted me to go on without him--he needs time alone. Perhaps he fancies his horse's company over mine." She shook her head and sighed. "It's a long story, I'm afraid."
"Oh?" asked Tim, lifting his head inquiringly.
"Yes--and vexing. You will not want to hear about it. I don't know about Edmund. He's Edmund Bertram, I know, but sometimes he can be so different . . ."
"I see."
"Oh, no," frowned Melissa; "it is not that, I assure you." She was surprised at Tim's tone. He couldn't be jealous of Edmund, could he?
"Well, what did Edmund say to you on that horse ride?" he asked.
"Nothing of consequence," replied Melissa a little too quickly.
Tim's brow furrowed. "Come on, Melissa. I know it was something of consequence . . . what did he say?" he asked coaxingly, taking her hand and caressing it.
"It was nothing! I think you could have more trust in what I say to you, Tim!" she said irritably. The more she thought about it, the less she wanted to confide Edmund's words to him.
"I do, Melissa, but not when you can't look me in the eye and give me a straight answer. I don't care if you were talking about my frivolities or Henry's wonderful qualities, but I want to know what he said to you."
"What if I don't choose to tell you what he said to me? What if I told you that it's none of your affair?" replied Melissa, angrily attempting to extract her hand from his.
"Then I would have to demand to know what he said," replied Tim sharply, retaining his hold on her hand.
"In that case, I would have to kindly inform you that you have no right to demand anything of me, Mr. Brookston," she replied, pulling her hand from his, and rising from the seat to look out the window upon the lawn, where she observed Fanny walking casually with Pug at her heels.
Suddenly, she felt Tim behind her, and heard his voice sharply in her ear. "Did that fool propose to you?" he demanded.
"Why would you say that?" she asked, suddenly turning around. "And would it matter if he did ask? and I am not saying that he did, mind you!"
Tim suddenly cooled, and replied quietly. "No, it wouldn't." With that said, he walked away and suddenly turned to look at her. "If you will excuse me, I will go and consult Christopher Jackson about the painter. I believe that any further conversation between us will be pointless."
"Indeed," said Melissa, returning his formal bow with a curtsy. "A good day to you, Mr. Brookston."
"And one to you, Miss Carrington," he replied, and quickly departed from the room. He walked angrily through the doorway, treading down hallways and stomping through the kitchen to get to the back door of the house. The cooks were rather frightened at his temper--they were used to being treated very well by the eldest Mr. Bertram, and most of the young women working as servants were charmed by his good looks and good manners--so their eyes widened when they saw his frown. Tim's muscles relaxed when he saw them, and he bowed with a smile before going outdoors.
From there, he went to the small brick building used for Mansfield's carpentry, quickly finding Christopher Jackson. But when Tim gave him the message, he found that someone had already told him about the plan.
"A young man was in here, sir," Jackson said, wiping his brow. "A strange man: he was dressed in so many colors. He looked like he stepped out of the Arabian Nights."
"That was Yates. And what did he tell you to do?"
The man went to a work desk and found a paper filled with jotted notes. "Well, I'm to build scenery for a play they're having--some German affair, I'm told. He wants mountains made for a background--for the painter to do--and he wants bolts of fabric for the ground, though I don't know why he told me that. Perhaps my wife will have something of that sort. And he would also like me to build a ramp on to the stage so that he can bring in livestock for the cottager scene."
Tim laughed. "Do you think you could possibly forget about everything but the mountains? I am sure Yates will not mind."
"Yes, sir," replied Jackson, looking rather relieved.
As Tim was about to go back in the house, he saw Edmund walking alongside his horse, and saw his chance to discover what had happened earlier.
"Oh, Tom," was Edmund's greeting. He did not try to conceal his disappointment upon seeing him.
"How did it go?" asked Tim, attempting to sound casual.
Edmund started. "What? How do . . . Oh, yes, I remember; I told you before."
"Yes, that you were planning to propose--what did she say?"
"I gave her time to think," answered Edmund gallantly. "I told her I would feel oppressing if I forced her to decide so soon, so I gave her time. I do, however, believe that the answer will come in my favor."
"Oh, do you?" asked Tim, lifting his head.
"Yes--her silence, the way she looked when I spoke to her--it all looked promising."
"Then let me be the first to congratulate you," said Tim in a dull tone.
Part 20C
"Thank you, brother," said Edmund happily, a small dreamy smile upon his face.
"And what does Crawford say?" asked Tim casually, a small smile on his face wondering how Henry would react to learn his sister would take Edmund's proposals--Probably pretty shocked he would be, mused Tim knowingly.
"I have not spoken yet to Mr. Crawford--I considered it deeply, but yet I decided against it. I believe that if Miss Crawford says yes, I will then ask her brother, already an acknowledged suitor."
"If?" asked Tim. "I thought you said it was a settled thing."
"Oh! well, it is, I am sure, but not entirely certain. She has not answered me, as I said, but I feel relatively confidant she will say yes. She seems to enjoy conversation with me, and I believe she realizes I have tried to please her."
Tim nearly laughed at this speech, but restrained himself. "How modest of you," he drawled. Then, a wicked spirit in him arose, and he decided to have a bit of fun. "Perhaps you should speak to him, you know."
"Crawford?"
"He should know what your intentions are; you probably should have asked him before you proposed to make sure of his consent: it is very proper."
"Proper . . ." murmured Edmund thoughtfully.
"I am sure if Crawford consents, Miss Crawford will be much happier to accept you: she dotes upon her brother very much, you know."
"True . . ." said Edmund, obviously thinking. Then, he smiled at his brother, and said, "I believe you are right, Tom. It is decidedly much more proper to say something to Mr. Crawford at this juncture. I will go immediately and seek him out."
"I believe he is with Maria and Julia yet, in the hall!" called out Tim maliciously, nearly laughing to think of what he had just set up. He felt quite sure Crawford wouldn't listen to Edmund--He certainly wouldn't marry Edmund--why should Me--his sister want to, he will wonder, though Tim. Also, I doubt he would be so callous as to accept a man without his sister's consent . . . This led into a long string of thoughts that perked Tim's humor up a little more, and he left the room with a small smile on his face, waiting to hear what Crawford said to his brother. He made his way into a small room adjoining the hall that was set up for coats--a room just large enough for him to fit in, and with walls thin enough to enable him to hear everything that took place in the hall. Edmund was already standing with the small group, struggling to catch Henry's attention with coughs and slightly nervous taps of his shoes. Finally, Henry turned to him.
"Mr. Crawford," began Edmund, "may I have a word with you?"
Henry raised his brows, but nodded. "Yes, certainly."
"I mean . . . alone," said Edmund, glancing at his sisters, who were smiling with mirth.
Henry turned to them. "I am afraid that we will have to continue our conversation later. I will save two chairs for you both when we are in the parlor." He took both of their hands in farewells, and the two girls made their way out of the hall with blushes.
"Well?"
Edmund nervously shifted his weight to his left foot. "I apologize if I interrupted anything," he said, trying to smile. "I suppose that men do not often ask you to speak alone with them--I should say that usually you talk alone with the ladies."
"Yes, usually," replied Henry. He shook his head, amused at the man, and checked his watch. "Is this what you came to tell me?"
"Oh, no. No. Not at all. I wanted to know something--I was told that I should consult you about it. The fact is, I would like to ask you if I may have your sister's hand in marriage."
Henry laughed. "Mary's? Has she ever shown you any reasons why she would want to marry you?"
Edmund thought for a moment. "Well, not particularly. I should say that I would not esteem a woman who was a great flirt and was so determined to show her affection. But Miss Crawford always wanted me to be friends with her--we get on very well together." Still Henry's disposition looked discouraging to Edmund, so he paused to choose his words carefully. "Mr. Crawford, I know that I have not the income, the property as others may have, but I can assure you that I will provide a most respectable house for her. I have heard my father speak about some presents he was to give me at the time of my marriage--perhaps Miss Crawford will be benefited by them if she becomes my wife."
Henry looked annoyed. "Well, of that, I can assure you that my sister is not so mercenary as you think her to be. Quite frankly, neither am I. I would consent to your marrying my sister if I was sure of her feelings, but there is no way I can be--she has not mentioned you very much to me."
"Perhaps she is too timid to," Edmund quickly suggested. "Maybe she was afraid of your answer. But when I proposed to her this morning, she showed a very convincing willingness, and I really thought . . ."
"You have already proposed to her?"
"Well, yes." Edmund lowered his head and stared at the floor. "I confess that I did not think to consult you first--it was Tom who told me I should have, but it is not too late, is it?"
Henry only ignored the question. "Then Bertram knows of this also? And he was not angry?"
"I do not recall--he did not seem so. Why should he be?"
"This will be a surprise to Mrs. Grant," murmured Henry. "Well," he said, addressing Edmund, "Mrs. Grant had thought that Mary would be asked by your brother--she thought that it was Tom who was to marry my sister, and I have to say that I thought the same thing."
Edmund stiffened. "Sir, I must suppose you mistaken. My brother upon learning of my proposal, congratulated me most warmly. Frankly, I know naught of what you say--if my brother meant to propose to Miss Crawford, he has had the opportunity, but I should not think that he wants to," he finished, slightly uneasy.
"I have no doubt," said Henry sarcastically, a slightly patronizing look on his face.
Edmund stiffened even more, and said in a voice of restrained haughty anger. "Are you insinuating something, sir? Is this your answer to me?"
Henry sighed after a moment of deliberation. "I dare not make any answer upon Mary's behalf; I could be mistaken, I am sure. I assure you, I will not forbid my sister from hearing your proposals or from accepting them, Mr. Bertram. However, I should like to share a word with your brother, if you please."
Edmund sighed in reply. "I do not know why I should mind, sir, but I will be happy to find him for you and send him to you."
Tim, understanding the flow of events, soundlessly left the closet, and made his way quickly into the library. He had just enough time to settle into a chair and open a book when he heard a knock on the door, and Edmund's voice called out to him. "Tom--Mr. Crawford wishes to speak with you in the hall."
"Thank you," murmured Tim as he rose quietly from his seat, and slowly began to make his way to the hall. As he walked, he considered what he would say to Crawford, for he already knew the questions to be put to him. With a deep breath, he opened the door and walked into the hall, where he stood in front of Henry Crawford.
There was silence for a moment as the men sized each other up; Henry was the first to speak.
"Mr. Bertram; I find I have many things of a most important nature to discuss with you. I believe you are aware of the fact that your brother made an offer to my sister."
"Oh, yes," answered Tim, making sure he maintained eye contact. He was by no means afraid of Henry Crawford--from reading Mansfield Park he knew too many of his faults to fear him--but Tim still was made uncomfortable by the imposing man, though Crawford stood shorter than he.
Henry nodded. "And you were not in any way disturbed by the news?"
"Disturbed?" Tim asked with a laugh. "I do not see why there is always the fear of my being disturbed by my brother's engagement; Edmund asked me the same thing."
"Forgive me," replied Henry, "but I am talking of any claims of affection my sister may have upon you."
Tim acknowledged it with a flash of his eyes, and spoke slowly. "You are talking of the other night."
"I am talking of the other night," repeated Henry.
"I thought as much," Tim remarked with a sigh. "I do not see that you should be asking me; Miss Crawford is the one who received the engagement--she should be asked."
"Yes, I know," answered Henry. The lines around his mouth began to show annoyance--something that he managed to keep under check as he spoke. "I do not know if my sister's thoughts are quite clear on the matter--perhaps she is being misguided or misled somehow . . ."
Tim almost laughed. Was Henry accusing him? Of all people to call another man a rake! "Sir," he said aloud, "I think I know what you mean, and I can tell you with confidence that I am not encouraging her. Miss Crawford's mind is too stable to be changed by simple flirtation. Perhaps I have been too reckless sometimes, but if she was a woman with a weaker, more influenced mind, I would consider my actions with more thought. Your sister is perfectly able to know her own heart without being persuaded by folly--rather unlike my own sisters, I must admit."
Now the flash came to Henry's dark eyes. "That is not the point, Mr. Bertram. I want to know whether or not you think of my sister as anything more than an agreeable flirt. In short, I want to know if you were going to propose to her."
"Was I going to propose to her?" repeated Tim thoughtfully. "Honestly, Mr. Crawford, I must say to you that I did not have the immediate intention of proposing to her," he said, almost truthfully.
Henry frowned, displeased. "Then we all were the more mistaken."
Tim couldn't hide his smile any longer. So said the pot to the kettle, he thought to himself, and replied aloud. "I am very sorry for you that you should be misled so. I meant only to be her good friend, but I realize that 'tis often the case that a man's motives are mistaken. Some people with weak minds, like my sisters, as I said, are able to mistake intentions easily."
Henry's eyes narrowed dangerously. "Then I guess we understand each other?" he said coldly, his voice giving not a hint of his inner thoughts.
"Perfectly," replied Tim, his smile a little larger on his face. He then bowed, saying, "I believe you should wish to rejoin my sisters, and I should not wish to keep you from their eager attentions. Good day, Mr. Crawford."
"Good day to you, Mr. Bertram, but I believe I have reason to speak with my sister, and as my duty to her must go before pleasure, you must excuse me to your sisters for dancing attention on mine."
Tim nodded, and watched Crawford walk out of the house and towards the stables with no small satisfaction. He sighed deeply, glad the uncomfortable conference was over and happy that he had managed to make Henry Crawford a little uncomfortable himself. I got a little of my own back, he thought to himself, laughing as he kept thinking of Henry Crawford lecturing him about rakish behavior.
Part 20D
Melissa's feelings were not so happy as Tim's at that moment. She had walked home from Mansfield in quite an upset, with much food to think on between her argument with Tim and Edmund's offer. Once home, she had hastened to her room, hopeful to avoid Mrs. Grant's prying eye. She sat there for a space, staring at the pages of Evelina and wondering what Tim's words to her meant, and wondering what to do.
It was an unavoidable truth--she loved Tim. She had to admit that to herself, because that moment of closeness had revealed the truth to her. However, she noted to herself, it was an unconsummated action. They had not actually kissed, and with Tim's words and actions to her, she felt sure that Tim really could not care about her. He viewed that near-kiss as a mistake. Perhaps he had been attracted to her in a physical way, or perhaps he let himself consider the possibility of their friendship being more, but had decided against it.
Also, she realized something else. She and Tim were not the only ones who knew about the other night; also party to that 'mistake' was Henry. She believed that, despite his foolishness at times, he knew what he was about, and if she had been compromised in some way, or if she confessed feeling something for Tom Bertram and that she expected a proposal, she had no doubt that Henry could make Tim propose. However, she did not wish that. She could not wish Tim to be forced into marrying her; he had to propose to her of his own volition or otherwise she would always doubt. Tim's happiness meant more than anything to her, and she could not make herself happy at his expense by forcing his hand. Thus, she decided to be cautious in expressing her emotions until she was better informed, and if anything, to profess that she viewed them as friends and friends only.
She was in this state of thought when Henry arrived at the Parsonage and knocked on her door.
"Mary? May I share a word or several with you?" he inquired. She quickly bid him come in, and was surprised to see him not a little irritated.
"Whatever is the matter, brother?" she asked, surprised, as he took a seat next to her. However, as Henry saw the look upon her face, he laughed and gently took her hand.
"Don't worry, Mary--I will not give you so stern a lecture. I know you've had a hard enough day of it." Melissa affirmed the statement with a weary sigh. "I thought so," continued Henry. "A proposal, my dear sister, and from a clergyman, no less! You do not need to look surprised; the Boy finally got up the courage to do what he should have done in the first place: that is, to ask my permission."
Melissa's head went up. "And why is that? Do you think I am not able to make a reasonable decision on my own?"
"No," said Henry after a pause. "No, I suppose it is a formality more than anything, but I care about you, Mary. Now you must agree that you would be better off if you had not had had to receive his vulgar proposals. You do agree, do you not?"
"Well, I would not call it vulgar. Is it his income that makes the position of his wife a vulgar one? Then perhaps you think he would be more at right to ask Miss Price to marry him."
"No, I don't," admitted Henry, "though perhaps Miss Price's sedate nature would agree with his own, but you--Edmund would bore you. His income is of less importance than his character, though I would hate to see you living in such poor conditions. But aside from all that, can you really take the Boy seriously?"
Melissa put her hand to her mouth with laughter. "You mean his dancing? Yes, I think that if I was married to him, I would make sure to avoid all balls, but he really is not so bad as you make him out to be. He is a very agreeable man."
"As agreeable as his brother?"
"No." She glanced up at Henry suspiciously. What does he know? She tried to hide her embarrassment with a careless grin, and managed to steady her voice. "My friend Mr. Bertram has the advantage of being able to make me laugh, which the boy has not, but I still enjoy his company. Why do you ask?"
"Because I talked with Bertram," replied Henry in an equally careless tone. "Now that all is safe I can confess to you that I once had the suspicion that it was the older boy you preferred, but after talking with him today, I am cleared of all my ideas of you both. He is rather impertinent, but he told me that he had no intention of proposing to you, that often men's motives can be mistaken and taken to extremes in the minds of women. From our talk, I gathered that he wishes to be your friend, and friend only."
"Of course," murmured Melissa with a hurt laugh. "Certainly, I believed that the entire time. I wonder that he should have to say anything about mistaken motives."
Henry stiffened at this. "That was the rather more unbelievable part of the entire conversation--could you believe me if I told you that the insolent Bertram dared to lecture me about flirtations!"
Melissa manfully smothered her giggles to answer as seriously as possible. "You are certainly as guilty of flirtation as he, Henry--you have not the right to attempt to set him down for it, as I see you tried to do."
"But I do have the right of a brother to express my resentment of his careless actions towards you. He knows of Bertram's proposal, and congratulates him upon it! Says he did not intend to propose to you!--I know I am a flirt, but surely he cannot expect me to propose to a girl already to be married to another. I am not that careless--Maria Bertram has no reason to suspect I would propose to her, and she would be much happier with Rushworth and his 12,000 a year." Henry was clearly upset at these notions, but Melissa was paying little attention.
"Probably so, Henry," replied she thoughtfully.
"I know so, Mary. That girl is the shallowest coquette I have ever had the misfortune to meet, and only a James Rushworth would be able to marry her. I should much prefer a more simple, plainer sort of girl with good-nature and much sense to her type; and I shall not be forced to trade my ideal for some imaginary scruple on the part of a man who has proved himself to be much more the rake than I."
Melissa smiled and laughed a little at this, and ruffled his hair. "Now Henry, what can be upsetting you? The impertinence of a Tom Bertram is nothing to us, but you know very well you are as hardened a rake as can be. What can be troubling you so?"
Henry sighed, then replied petulantly, "I did not imagine that I would have a moralist for a brother. Why, Mary, must you intend to marry that Boy? I should not have imagined you capable of it. I can't imagine why you would want to, the way he talked about how well you got on together, and his words! If I had not been annoyed, I would have been amused."
She smiled, imagining the scene. "I am sorry that Mr. Edmund should have displeased you so, but I believe I should enjoy him as a husband. He is a very steady creature, and will make me a fine husband, I am sure."
Henry snorted. "Steady! I never should have thought my sister would marry a moralist. Mansfield has had an effect on you, my dear."
Melissa got up from her place and went to the window, where she could catch a glimpse of part of the main house. Turning back to Henry with a laugh, she replied, "Then has it cured me after all? Though of what I do not know. At any rate, Mrs. Grant will be glad that her prediction came true."
"Maybe, but she predicted the wrong man. I do not know what she thinks of the Boy; she did witness his dancing at the ball, you know."
"Oh, true," answered Melissa, looking deep in thought. "But I do not think she shall mind that too much. I cannot imagine that Dr. Grant is a good dancer."
Henry laughed loudly. "No, I think you're right. I don't think I want to imagine that."
"No," Melissa agreed, observing Henry's countenance while thinking about how quickly his temper became agreeable once more. He really made a very caring brother for her. "So you were worried that I might succumb to a rake?" she asked with a smile.
"Well, yes, a little. Perhaps being a bit of one myself, I can spot a rake easily."
"But are Mr. Bertram's motives that obvious?"
"He seemed to always desire for you to be alone with him," Henry said, "and his trip to Weymouth seemed a little vague. Why do men go to Weymouth?"
"Well," answered Melissa, "I believe Mr. Bertram was going for the horse races."
"Horse races," laughed Henry. "A capital excuse--I am not surprised you fell for it. Well, it is good you have a brother to help you in these matters, my dear sister."
"And it is good you have a sister! What if I had not discovered Miss Bertram's true nature to you?"
"Unfair girl!" exclaimed Henry, raising his hand as though he was going to strike her, and gently patting her cheek instead. "Why do you not give me the benefit? I believe that I discovered the fair Maria's real personality myself."
"But if you had listened to me . . . ?" ventured Melissa.
"Yes, I know--I would never have wasted my time on her. So I thank you heartily, sister, even if you are giving me a bore for a brother."
"How generous of you, Henry! I always knew you were my favorite brother!" she said with a smile at him. When in a good temper, she could not conceive of a better play-fellow than Henry Crawford, and this conviction had only been more firmly entrenched as she grew to know him better.
He mock-bowed with a little smile of his own, and gently kissed her cheek, saying, "I really believe I must excuse myself at this point, dearest. I hear Mrs. Grant downstairs, and I believe you will want to tell her your plans alone."
Melissa's mouth dropped open, and she smiled in shock. "No! How could you propose such a thing, Henry Crawford? Throw me to the lions alone?--no, this Daniel needs a David with a little stone to aid me."
He smiled indulgently, and reclined back. "It should be an amusing conference, in any case," he reflected out-loud to himself.
Melissa pointedly ignored him with a grin, and opened the door, calling softly to Mrs. Grant down the hall. "My dear Harriet, could you attend me in here for a moment, if you please?"
"Of course!" was the reply, and in bustled Mrs. Grant with little delay. "What do you need, my dear Mary?" she asked.
"I need for you to listen to me as I relate to you some interesting news."
Mrs. Grant accordingly seated herself on the chaise next to Henry, and looked up at Melissa with wide eyes and a little curiosity.
Melissa stood for a moment with her mouth open, trying to think of what to say. "Harriet--I believe I must tell you--I have resolved--I have--" she said haltingly, starting and stopping as she tried to think of how to phrase the facts.
"My dear Mary, what is it? You may tell me with little preface, if it will aid you," interrupted Mrs. Grant, her curiosity budding.
"Harriet, I believe you know that I accompanied Mr. Bertram on a ride this morning. It occurs that Mr. Bertram has harbored a long-standing attachment to me, and asked for my hand. He applied to Henry, and upon hearing that Henry has no objection, I have decided to accept his proposals."
Mrs. Grant looked quite crestfallen. "Mr. Bertram? Young Edmund Bertram proposed to you?"
"Yes," Melissa replied.
"But what of Mr. Tom? I was sure he was in raptures over you!"
Melissa sighed, tired of having to repeat the facts of her relationship with Tim over and over again. "Mr. Bertram is not quite so pleased with me as you imagined. We are very good friends, yes, but you are mistaken if you believe he harbors any attachment to me."
"How so?" asked Mrs. Grant desperately.
"Because Henry asked him his intentions and he declared he had no intention of proposing to me."
"Truly?" asked Mrs. Grant, her mouth curving downward into a sort of pout.
"I am afraid 'tis true, my dear Harriet," replied Henry.
"And you consent to this . . . young Bertram?" replied Mrs. Grant, shocked.
"I am afraid 'tis true, Harriet. His passion and his great ardour quite won me over; I could not refuse him my consent," replied Henry with a wink at Melissa which almost caused her to laugh hysterically.
"Oh dear--" said Mrs. Grant, quite disappointed. Then, her natural sunny nature took over, and her spirits began to perk up. "Surely, it is not a disastrous match. You will be living nearby in any case, and I am sure that Sir Thomas will do something quite handsome for his son upon his marriage."
"Indeed!" replied Melissa enthusiastically, happy to encourage this line of thought.
"I suppose you must choose a man who will make you happy, and if you choose young Mr. Bertram, I suppose you know your own mind," replied Mrs. Grant generously.
Melissa embraced Mrs. Grant happily, and smiled warmly at her. "Thank you, my dear Harriet. I shall not trouble you any more."
Mrs. Grant smiled indulgently, and bustled off as she began to think of the positives of Edmund Bertram.
However, once the door was closed, Melissa was less happily employed in attempting to playfully swat Henry as she was laughing. "You bad boy! Henry, that was too unkind! 'His passion and his great ardour quite won me over!'"
"Well, I felt I should support your decision," said Henry primly, a little evil smile on his face.
"Get out, Henry!" cried Melissa with a smile. "I don't know what to do with you, you naughty rascal!"
With a gallant bow and a smile, he kindly obliged her. Melissa laughed to herself when he was gone, but soon she started to think seriously about the engagement. Even now she could not bring herself to believe that she had just accepted; Edmund Bertram had been the one she had wanted to get away from, not talk with him and flatter him so much to make him propose to her. She did not know how it all came about--how did he imagine that she returned his regard? and how was that regard ever created? They were totally different people! This started another train of thought.
Perhaps if Tim had heard the news with a little sadness--regret, it seemed, would have been most called for, even for a friend. Then did he not care at all? It was not that he was a rake--Melissa knew him too well to suppose that--but his nature was so agreeable, his blue eyes so telling (or so she thought), so as to make her believe things that never left her mind. After thinking for a while, she decided that Tim really was not to blame. She herself had been the one to persuade him from the beginning; he had been hesitant, but at last complying. Yes, Melissa was to blame, and perhaps some of Tim's most agreeable traits, and his eyes--perhaps those were, too.
Knowing that Tim could not possibly care for her, she realized that marrying Edmund Bertram was the only option for her. After all, how long she would be here remained to be seen, and at least she knew Edmund Bertram. Also, he loved her--that he would propose to her after so short of an acquaintance, and that he was willing to accept her despite her faults,--that he loved her so much that he had become quite romantic in his affections. He had made himself vulnerable, and she did not wish to hurt him. Also there was Fanny and Henry; if she rejected Edmund, he would turn to Fanny for consolation, and Henry would probably fall in love with her, and become miserable. After all, had she not vowed to match Fanny and Henry together? Had she not come here solely to make him happy? Tim was just a coincidence along the way, and she was sure that since he did not love her, she was not intended to love him. Edmund loved her, and she knew that if she tried, she could probably make him happy. Besides, she did not dislike Edmund: he was clever, he was handsome; he was even charming. He thought seriously on all subjects, he had morals and principles, and he loved her and wished to make her happy. These rationalizations helped her to feel comfortable, and she convinced herself that Edmund was the best husband for her, after all. She began to imagine that perhaps she would no longer love Tim after a while, and become as attached to Edmund as he might wished. After all, anything and everything was possible.
But then, she was not sure how, in the time between the present and her wedding, she could manage to stop loving Tim. It was not so easy as a determined thought. Would it be best for her to stop seeing him alone? to avoid all situations in which there lurked a chance of personal conversations and unnecessary, unmeant words? She knew that each time she discovered a new trait of Tim's, she only loved him more. But to remain separated from him--
She stood up and began to pace, to walk the floors in heavy thoughts, occasionally throwing open the curtains to catch a glimpse of the green lawns of Mansfield. She had never been good at making decisions, and having finally just decided to marry, she was still struggling with the strain and aftermath. But her decision to quit seeing Tim was instantly dashed away. Certainly she could not end a friendship so suddenly, merely because of an engagement. Tim would be able to see--not only her love, but some of the weaknesses that she wished to hide. He would discover that Melissa Carrington was not in so much control of herself as she had wished him to see.
She should still see Tim, should continue to treat him with the warm friendship they had shared for so long. They were alone, and Melissa could not stand to lose a confidante. Laughs would continue, secret jokes would be shared . . . After all, was he not already like the brother he was soon to become? Brother--she would remember that now whenever she was with him. Love had never conquered Melissa before, and certainly would not now. Not until it had changed form and person--undoubtedly, Tim would soon no longer be its object.
Part 21A
Melissa's first attempt to take Tim out of her mind started over the next days as her new fiancé began to visit her regularly at the Parsonage. To a degree that somewhat surprised her, she was successful. Edmund, she found, was all that she had convinced herself that he was, and something more . . . he was not Tim; she could not deny that, but in a way, he didn't need to be Tim.
Edmund was a wonderful person. He was as caring as Fanny Price had found him; he was a little bashful, but Melissa began to see that he had a warm heart of his own. He was intelligent, that she could tell, and while he did not make jokes easily, he appreciated wit very readily. He was very honest; he could get to the heart of a matter very easily, and knew how best to act once he realized what he needed to do. He was not the bore that she had though he was; she began to see why Mary Crawford could have fallen in love with this man so easily. He was not what anyone could call a "pleasing man," like Henry Crawford, but he has his own brand of charm, a charm that could be found in his shy smile and his quiet ways. His visits were usually very simple--they would take walks together, she would play the piano for him, they would sit together and just enjoy the presence of each other.
On one of these visits, Fanny accompanied him, though only for the walk, for her aunt wished her to take a basket of eggs to Mrs. Grant. On her way to the house, Melissa stopped her, and told her that she was welcome to sit out in the orchard with her and Edmund.
"Oh, are you sure, Miss Crawford?" the girl asked. "And cousin, are you?" She, along with Melissa, looked to him for his answer.
The shine in his eyes sunk a little, but he managed to put a smile upon his face. "Of course, Fanny. The fresh air will be good for you, I believe."
Fanny looked happy enough to have a chance to talk with her dear Miss Crawford, and Melissa sought the chance to see how the girl felt about the engagement. To her surprise, Fanny looked content throughout the conversation.
"Will not you be sad to see your cousin move away?" Melissa asked.
"Yes, I am sure I will be, but I knew that he would have to some day--regardless of if he got married or not." She returned Edmund's smile and turned back to Melissa. "Besides, he will live fairly close, he has told me, and now you will not be moving back to London, Miss Crawford."
"Well," replied Melissa, surprised, but glad, "I thank you for your compliment. Now, if only I could manage to persuade Henry to stay here."
Edmund honestly could not stand Henry Crawford. For his part, he could not understand how Mary, who was so sweet and good, could be related to such a callous rascal and rogue as Crawford; that was his view of the man. However, he was not unintelligent, and was fully aware of the fact that Mary happened to adore this brother of hers; a fact that did her no disservice in his eyes, misguided though her esteem was. As such, especially considering the fact that he held such tender affection for her, he was quite willing to do anything within reason that would please her.
With a gentle smile for her, he then said, "Well, you must do your best to induce him to remain! Upon our marriage, you must invite him to stay with us at Thorton Lacey, so that we may enjoy his company for longer."
Melissa looked at him with a smile, not a little pleased. Edmund was truly both benevolent and besotted if he were willing to bear with such a man as Henry Crawford, whom he could not truly like. She began to look forward to her marriage as holding a comfortable prospect for her. "Why, Mr. Bertram! Are you sure?"
"Of course--Mary. Your family is my family, and I shall be glad to have your brother's company," he said, taking her hand and kissing it.
Melissa turned away from a moment, a little smile on her face as her color heightened a bit. She glanced at Fanny out of the corner of her eye, and noticed the girl apparently brushing something off her skirt, and realized that even if the girl disliked acting, her talent for the activity was not contemptible.
"And perhaps we will also be able to invite you, Fanny--! For I can stumble over 'Miss Price' no longer, and consider you now to be as much my sister as either of your cousins."
Fanny smiled sweetly. "I shall consider you always as such, Miss--Mary." The girl then reached for her empty basket, and rose. "I believe I must be along my way--my aunt Norris will be wondering what should delay me for so long."
"Indeed. It is very good to see you today, my dear future-sister Fanny," said Melissa, smiling broadly at the girl as she tried to ignore the niggling doubt in the back of her mind. Was she was doing the right thing? Obviously, the girl still cared for Edmund, though she would hide it . . . was it right to separate the two for her own motives? Were those motives right, or deserving? She quickly shook off the doubt; it was something better left unconsidered. She saw the girl off with gratitude, and returned to Edmund with her worries lightly marking her brow.
His eyes narrowed as he looked at her. "My dear, are you all right? You look a little tired. Is the heat too much for you?"
Melissa forced a smile, and sank into the convenient seat next to him. "I am quite well, I assure you. The weather is very fine," she commented faintly.
Edmund began to look worried. "Are you sure? I want you to come over tonight with the Grants and your brother to announce our engagement--and I do not want you to be worn out. Are you feeling well?"
"I confess I am a little tired," she replied.
This neat statement earned herself his pampering as he fussed her inside, and he quickly left her to recover her strength. While glad to see him go, she was alarmed to hear about tonight. Tonight? I must go there and face his family--tonight? She did not see how she could. Though the news had already gone around to almost everyone by individual conversations, she still feared having to sit by Edmund with everyone's eyes upon them.
When she dressed, Melissa chose a simple dress of white and pearl; she did not want to stand out tonight, but rather fade into the background of the dining room. But however simply her hair was dressed and her jewelry chosen, Edmund still received her warmly.
"Miss Crawford, I am happy to see you," he said, giving her his arm. Seeing the Grants and Crawford behind her, he stopped and let go of Melissa's arm abruptly.
"Dr. and Mrs. Grant," he said with an amount of nervousness in his voice, "I'm happy to see you also. Then I suppose you have heard--have heard about our engagement?"
Mrs. Grant began to frown, but her husband nudged her into affability. "Yes," she replied, "and we are very happy. I am sure you will find in my sister a wonderful wife."
Dr. Grant gave Edmund a hearty pat on the back. "Indeed, Mary will be very agreeable for you to have around. She is very good at making herself up and organizing events, but I do not think she will be a great cook for you."
"Brother!" exclaimed Melissa, "that is unkind of you! Perhaps," she went on, addressing Edmund, "I will be able to learn. Soon I shall be the best domestic you have ever seen."
Ignoring Henry's laughter, Edmund smiled and took them all into the dining room. He was sure to seat his fiancé away from his siblings, giving Melissa the chair right by the head of the table where he sat, so that she was able to observe freely while being observed. Edmund found places for the Grants, but when he tried to seat Henry, he saw the man only casually ignore him and walk past, finding a seat by Miss Price. Melissa could not help but notice Tim on Fanny's right side; though the sight of the two "rakes" surrounding Fanny Price was a comical one, Melissa could not laugh. Even the sight of Mr. Yates did not draw a smile from her. She merely sat, waiting for Edmund to make the announcement.
He stood, and taking Melissa's hand in his, looked down upon the assembled company. "Family, I have an announcement that many of you expect, and I hope will be to the enjoyment and satisfaction of all. I have to announce my betrothal to Miss Crawford, and hope that you all are as pleased as I am about it," he said, casting a fond smile at his fiancée.
Tim, without ever knowing how he managed it, found himself rising from his chair with his wine glass in hand. "To the happy couple!" he proposed loudly with a smile.
"The happy couple!" murmured the crowd, and everyone clinked glasses cheerfully.
Melissa sat back down in her chair a little easier, but a curious look she directed at Tim. His face was a little pale, she considered, but his face seemed quite absent from any emotion one would have if upon learning of someone's engagement. It so happened that he looked up, and their eyes met for a tense moment before she quickly dropped her own to her plate.
Tim's eyes also lowered themselves, for fear that they would expose what he felt inside, what he jealously hoped to keep hidden. The last time that they had spoken was their fight, and of course it was a little uncomfortable meeting after that. For his part, his pain was more than that--it was the misery of knowing Melissa's heart, finally, and knowing that he occupied nothing but the smallest cubby-hole within that most desirable of homes.
He dared another glance at her: she looked radiant. He only wished that he could look the same, but feared that his countenance exposed all too clearly what he felt inside. He took a sip of the wine, and forced himself to attend to Henry's conversation with Fanny. Or, rather, his attempted conversation, as Fanny was mostly silent. She seemed disinclined to talk, but Henry persevered stubbornly in efforts to make her respond.
"What do you think of this coming marriage?" Henry was asking Fanny. "I believe something must be in the air--Miss Bertram and Mr. Rushworth, now my sister and your cousin Edmund. Who do you think could be the next couple? They say that all things come in threes, you know."
"I could not know," replied Fanny shortly.
"Perhaps Mr. Yates and Julia?--that would be my guess. He seems to pay her quite a deal of attention."
"I would not know," murmured Fanny passively.
"Perhaps Pug will have another litter," added Tim prosaically.
Fanny smiled slightly at this comment, but forbore to add anything. Tim, perceiving that she desperately needed saving from Crawford's importuning, decided to add his mite and save her from it.
"Fanny, have you been out riding recently?"
Fanny shook her head. "I have not found the opportunity; Aunt Bertram needs me often about her, but I have managed to do some walking in the shrubbery. The weather has been so fine that I have often felt tempted to go out."
"You should not neglect yourself, you know," was all that Tim could manage. As good as his intentions were, he had not the strength to do much this evening; his will-power had been exercised often in the past few days, and he need to reserve the all that he had to get him through his night. Hopefully, he might be able to rest, and recoup some of that lost strength in order to continue his disguise.
Fanny nodded, and before Henry attempted her again, salvation interrupted, in the form of Mr. Yates.
"Bertram, I have to ask--did Christopher Jackson find a painter to come soon?"
Tim smiled, glad for distraction. "Yes, he knows some man or another, and soon the man should arrive to begin work. Have you been reading through your lines?"
Yates smiled, a trifle vapid. "Oh, yes! I know the Baron well, however, but I must keep my voice in condition for him."
Tim nodded sagely, and turned to Henry, asking, "Have you been practicing?"
"Somehow, I haven't found the time," remarked Henry. "Mary has kept me quite busy, between one thing and another," he said, with a significant look at Tim.
Tim looked annoyed, but relaxed his features. "Yes, I can imagine. Edmund has been keeping us busy as well, but I suppose it must be harder to prepare for a bride."
"Harder, yes," Henry replied, raising his eyebrows. "And she has not even started to prepare yet--right now she is still in the process of telling us all about her Mr. Edmund. You can be sure that we know all about your brother."
"Is there that much to know?" He paused. "What I mean is that my brother has not decided yet upon where he is to live."
"I hope he will settle close to Mansfield Park," said Fanny, reminding them that she was there. Henry turned to her with a smile.
"You are a worthy cousin, Miss Price. But even if he does move miles away, you will have a good friend here."
Fanny lowered her eyes, her face flushed slightly. "Thank you, Mr. Crawford."
"However," broke in Tim, "I do not think that they will be living so very far away; I am sure the Grants will want her to live close to the Parsonage. You will all miss her," he said to Henry.
"I think we will all miss her, at both houses," was Henry's reply, and Tim looked over in Melissa's direction. She sat under Edmund's gaze, listening to him talk to his mother and aunt. She would smile whenever the occasion called for it, but often her eyes would wander across the table.
"I have no doubt that my father will be pleased by this match," Tim heard Edmund say, "for Miss Crawford, I believe, is just the sort of young lady he always told Tom and me to find." He smiled down upon Melissa. "I think he shall be very impressed by her."
"Oh, yes," said Lady Bertram; "Miss Crawford is a very nice girl--very pretty, Edmund. I always wished you to marry a pretty girl."
"And fine, too," added Mrs. Norris. "She dresses well, though I hope, Edmund, that you will be able to persuade her to use economy when choosing materials. A clergyman may not always be able to provide the finest clothes, even with the benefit of a few thousand pounds."
"But I should not like her to dress in rags," protested Edmund. "Miss Crawford is not used to having to wear country fashions."
"Oh, indeed," put in Melissa, "I think she will be able to adjust." Tim could not help but notice the languid look in her eyes. He saw Edmund take her hand and murmur something in her ear, but he could not hear what he told her.
Soon Edmund proposed that they go hear Miss Crawford play the pianoforte, which Melissa gradually agreed to.
When seated at the pianoforte, she began to consider which song to play; always a hard task. She began to mentally go through her catalogue; most to be dismissed as unsuitable in either tune, lyric, or subject matter. Suddenly, she remembered that she did know at least one old English song, and she began to play "Greensleeves". Edmund seemed quite satisfied by the tune, and smiled dreamily as she played and sang.
Tim, however, was not quite so pleased. Out of all the songs in the world, the one that filled him with the most revulsion was "Greensleeves". When younger, he had been forced to labor on the piano, and that tune was a great favorite of his mother's--he was induced to play it so many times that he ended up ripping up his instruction book and gave up the piano altogether. With matters in such a state, he began to wonder at what he could have done to Melissa that would make her hate him so much as to play that evil ditty, and all excruciating eight verses as well! By the end of the song, he was only reflecting what a lucky chance it was that he did not moan in pain.
The rest of the company, however, was immune to Tim's distress, and all applauded enthusiastically to the recognizable tune.
"Prettily done," said Miss Price. "You have a real talent, Miss Crawford."
"Thank you, Miss Price, but indeed it is all the fault of your capital instrument here."
"Yes, indeed," said Tim quickly, recovering himself. "Let us now sit and talk together quite cozily, for I look on you as quite one of the family now, Miss Crawford."
"Thank you, Mr. Bertram," said Melissa tonelessly, and sat down on the chaise, with Fanny on one side and Edmund to quickly appropriate the other.
The following conversation was quite undistinguished; neither inane nor particularly wise, it was merely strained as all four of the small quartet tried to speak when not inclined to. Melissa would cautiously glance at Fanny, and also at Tim, but could make nothing of their thoughts. Edmund's smiles upon her she uneasily returned, but felt her spirits oppressed, and soon their conversation melted into nothing. She managed to catch Henry's eye soon, and he managed to cajole the family into taking their leave. However, before they left, Mr. Yates spoke up from his conversation with Miss Julia.
"Lovers' Vows!" he cried.
"What?" said Tim, startled.
"Well, will we get together another practice soon? We must work on the play, you know!"
"Indeed," said Maria. "I cannot wait to see it acted, and I have my few lines learnt."
"I also," seconded Melissa, turning to her fiancé. "Perhaps we shall need to practice a little?"
He grinned. "Perhaps--I believe it would be best."
"And you and I also, Miss Crawford," suddenly interjected Tim.
She turned to him, surprised. Her eyes met his, and again she lowered her own. "Indeed, Mr. Bertram. I admit I sadly need work with my Amelia. I am not such a proficient actor as my brother."
"I am not surprised," said Fanny quietly.
Henry turned, hearing this voice, and looked into her eyes inquisitively. "Indeed--and why so, Miss Price?"
"Your sister has such an open, artless personality. Acting is duplicitous by nature; it seeks to create another reality, and as such, one must be able to disguise one's own looks and feelings and attempt to appear in such a way as suits the piece. Therefore, one so candid and true in nature must find it hard work to be other than she is," said the girl quietly, with quick breaths that made Melissa's eyes open wide in surprise. Fanny is daring! I bet now she is shocked by her own boldness, but it is just what Henry needs to hear. I have a feeling Miss Bertram's catty smile at this moment will quickly fade when Henry begins to devote his attentions to this guileless girl.
Henry's eyebrow raised, and he merely smiled. "Indeed, Miss Price. People such as you must find it alien to your nature to be other than what you are, but even this world can be deceiving in appearance. People can have many different sides, and because they can appear to be two different things at times does not make them duplicitous or untruthful to their natures."
Melissa smiled a small roguish smile. Well done, Henry! Now we see, it begins.
Fanny nodded, and then curtsied as the guests departed.
"Well, Fanny," said Maria once she saw off the carriage, "are you trying to scare Mr. Crawford away?"
Tim saw an embarrassed look come to Fanny's face. "No, I was only giving my opinion. I told Mr. Crawford what I thought he should hear."
"But it was disagreeable for him to hear. If people attack his character every time he comes to Mansfield Park, do you think he will be coming again?"
"Sister," interrupted Tim, "I do not think Fanny cares about that as much as you do. You are the one who takes an hour to prepare for his arrival whenever he comes."
"Well, I was only telling her," sniffed Maria. She lifted her head and walked out of the room, leaving only Tim and Fanny.
"I know I may be the only one to think this," said Tim, "but I rather liked what you told Crawford. I thought he deserved it."
"I hope I was not too hard upon him," Fanny murmured, looking him in the eyes.
"No, not at all. And does it really matter what he thinks of you?"
Fanny looked dowwn again. "No, I suppose not."
Part 21A
Melissa's first attempt to take Tim out of her mind started over the next days as her new fiancé began to visit her regularly at the Parsonage. To a degree that somewhat surprised her, she was successful. Edmund, she found, was all that she had convinced herself that he was, and something more . . . he was not Tim; she could not deny that, but in a way, he didn't need to be Tim.
Edmund was a wonderful person. He was as caring as Fanny Price had found him; he was a little bashful, but Melissa began to see that he had a warm heart of his own. He was intelligent, that she could tell, and while he did not make jokes easily, he appreciated wit very readily. He was very honest; he could get to the heart of a matter very easily, and knew how best to act once he realized what he needed to do. He was not the bore that she had though he was; she began to see why Mary Crawford could have fallen in love with this man so easily. He was not what anyone could call a "pleasing man," like Henry Crawford, but he has his own brand of charm, a charm that could be found in his shy smile and his quiet ways. His visits were usually very simple--they would take walks together, she would play the piano for him, they would sit together and just enjoy the presence of each other.
On one of these visits, Fanny accompanied him, though only for the walk, for her aunt wished her to take a basket of eggs to Mrs. Grant. On her way to the house, Melissa stopped her, and told her that she was welcome to sit out in the orchard with her and Edmund.
"Oh, are you sure, Miss Crawford?" the girl asked. "And cousin, are you?" She, along with Melissa, looked to him for his answer.
The shine in his eyes sunk a little, but he managed to put a smile upon his face. "Of course, Fanny. The fresh air will be good for you, I believe."
Fanny looked happy enough to have a chance to talk with her dear Miss Crawford, and Melissa sought the chance to see how the girl felt about the engagement. To her surprise, Fanny looked content throughout the conversation.
"Will not you be sad to see your cousin move away?" Melissa asked.
"Yes, I am sure I will be, but I knew that he would have to some day--regardless of if he got married or not." She returned Edmund's smile and turned back to Melissa. "Besides, he will live fairly close, he has told me, and now you will not be moving back to London, Miss Crawford."
"Well," replied Melissa, surprised, but glad, "I thank you for your compliment. Now, if only I could manage to persuade Henry to stay here."
Edmund honestly could not stand Henry Crawford. For his part, he could not understand how Mary, who was so sweet and good, could be related to such a callous rascal and rogue as Crawford; that was his view of the man. However, he was not unintelligent, and was fully aware of the fact that Mary happened to adore this brother of hers; a fact that did her no disservice in his eyes, misguided though her esteem was. As such, especially considering the fact that he held such tender affection for her, he was quite willing to do anything within reason that would please her.
With a gentle smile for her, he then said, "Well, you must do your best to induce him to remain! Upon our marriage, you must invite him to stay with us at Thorton Lacey, so that we may enjoy his company for longer."
Melissa looked at him with a smile, not a little pleased. Edmund was truly both benevolent and besotted if he were willing to bear with such a man as Henry Crawford, whom he could not truly like. She began to look forward to her marriage as holding a comfortable prospect for her. "Why, Mr. Bertram! Are you sure?"
"Of course--Mary. Your family is my family, and I shall be glad to have your brother's company," he said, taking her hand and kissing it.
Melissa turned away from a moment, a little smile on her face as her color heightened a bit. She glanced at Fanny out of the corner of her eye, and noticed the girl apparently brushing something off her skirt, and realized that even if the girl disliked acting, her talent for the activity was not contemptible.
"And perhaps we will also be able to invite you, Fanny--! For I can stumble over 'Miss Price' no longer, and consider you now to be as much my sister as either of your cousins."
Fanny smiled sweetly. "I shall consider you always as such, Miss--Mary." The girl then reached for her empty basket, and rose. "I believe I must be along my way--my aunt Norris will be wondering what should delay me for so long."
"Indeed. It is very good to see you today, my dear future-sister Fanny," said Melissa, smiling broadly at the girl as she tried to ignore the niggling doubt in the back of her mind. Was she was doing the right thing? Obviously, the girl still cared for Edmund, though she would hide it . . . was it right to separate the two for her own motives? Were those motives right, or deserving? She quickly shook off the doubt; it was something better left unconsidered. She saw the girl off with gratitude, and returned to Edmund with her worries lightly marking her brow.
His eyes narrowed as he looked at her. "My dear, are you all right? You look a little tired. Is the heat too much for you?"
Melissa forced a smile, and sank into the convenient seat next to him. "I am quite well, I assure you. The weather is very fine," she commented faintly.
Edmund began to look worried. "Are you sure? I want you to come over tonight with the Grants and your brother to announce our engagement--and I do not want you to be worn out. Are you feeling well?"
"I confess I am a little tired," she replied.
This neat statement earned herself his pampering as he fussed her inside, and he quickly left her to recover her strength. While glad to see him go, she was alarmed to hear about tonight. Tonight? I must go there and face his family--tonight? She did not see how she could. Though the news had already gone around to almost everyone by individual conversations, she still feared having to sit by Edmund with everyone's eyes upon them.
When she dressed, Melissa chose a simple dress of white and pearl; she did not want to stand out tonight, but rather fade into the background of the dining room. But however simply her hair was dressed and her jewelry chosen, Edmund still received her warmly.
"Miss Crawford, I am happy to see you," he said, giving her his arm. Seeing the Grants and Crawford behind her, he stopped and let go of Melissa's arm abruptly.
"Dr. and Mrs. Grant," he said with an amount of nervousness in his voice, "I'm happy to see you also. Then I suppose you have heard--have heard about our engagement?"
Mrs. Grant began to frown, but her husband nudged her into affability. "Yes," she replied, "and we are very happy. I am sure you will find in my sister a wonderful wife."
Dr. Grant gave Edmund a hearty pat on the back. "Indeed, Mary will be very agreeable for you to have around. She is very good at making herself up and organizing events, but I do not think she will be a great cook for you."
"Brother!" exclaimed Melissa, "that is unkind of you! Perhaps," she went on, addressing Edmund, "I will be able to learn. Soon I shall be the best domestic you have ever seen."
Ignoring Henry's laughter, Edmund smiled and took them all into the dining room. He was sure to seat his fiancé away from his siblings, giving Melissa the chair right by the head of the table where he sat, so that she was able to observe freely while being observed. Edmund found places for the Grants, but when he tried to seat Henry, he saw the man only casually ignore him and walk past, finding a seat by Miss Price. Melissa could not help but notice Tim on Fanny's right side; though the sight of the two "rakes" surrounding Fanny Price was a comical one, Melissa could not laugh. Even the sight of Mr. Yates did not draw a smile from her. She merely sat, waiting for Edmund to make the announcement.
He stood, and taking Melissa's hand in his, looked down upon the assembled company. "Family, I have an announcement that many of you expect, and I hope will be to the enjoyment and satisfaction of all. I have to announce my betrothal to Miss Crawford, and hope that you all are as pleased as I am about it," he said, casting a fond smile at his fiancée.
Tim, without ever knowing how he managed it, found himself rising from his chair with his wine glass in hand. "To the happy couple!" he proposed loudly with a smile.
"The happy couple!" murmured the crowd, and everyone clinked glasses cheerfully.
Melissa sat back down in her chair a little easier, but a curious look she directed at Tim. His face was a little pale, she considered, but his face seemed quite absent from any emotion one would have if upon learning of someone's engagement. It so happened that he looked up, and their eyes met for a tense moment before she quickly dropped her own to her plate.
Tim's eyes also lowered themselves, for fear that they would expose what he felt inside, what he jealously hoped to keep hidden. The last time that they had spoken was their fight, and of course it was a little uncomfortable meeting after that. For his part, his pain was more than that--it was the misery of knowing Melissa's heart, finally, and knowing that he occupied nothing but the smallest cubby-hole within that most desirable of homes.
He dared another glance at her: she looked radiant. He only wished that he could look the same, but feared that his countenance exposed all too clearly what he felt inside. He took a sip of the wine, and forced himself to attend to Henry's conversation with Fanny. Or, rather, his attempted conversation, as Fanny was mostly silent. She seemed disinclined to talk, but Henry persevered stubbornly in efforts to make her respond.
"What do you think of this coming marriage?" Henry was asking Fanny. "I believe something must be in the air--Miss Bertram and Mr. Rushworth, now my sister and your cousin Edmund. Who do you think could be the next couple? They say that all things come in threes, you know."
"I could not know," replied Fanny shortly.
"Perhaps Mr. Yates and Julia?--that would be my guess. He seems to pay her quite a deal of attention."
"I would not know," murmured Fanny passively.
"Perhaps Pug will have another litter," added Tim prosaically.
Fanny smiled slightly at this comment, but forbore to add anything. Tim, perceiving that she desperately needed saving from Crawford's importuning, decided to add his mite and save her from it.
"Fanny, have you been out riding recently?"
Fanny shook her head. "I have not found the opportunity; Aunt Bertram needs me often about her, but I have managed to do some walking in the shrubbery. The weather has been so fine that I have often felt tempted to go out."
"You should not neglect yourself, you know," was all that Tim could manage. As good as his intentions were, he had not the strength to do much this evening; his will-power had been exercised often in the past few days, and he need to reserve the all that he had to get him through his night. Hopefully, he might be able to rest, and recoup some of that lost strength in order to continue his disguise.
Fanny nodded, and before Henry attempted her again, salvation interrupted, in the form of Mr. Yates.
"Bertram, I have to ask--did Christopher Jackson find a painter to come soon?"
Tim smiled, glad for distraction. "Yes, he knows some man or another, and soon the man should arrive to begin work. Have you been reading through your lines?"
Yates smiled, a trifle vapid. "Oh, yes! I know the Baron well, however, but I must keep my voice in condition for him."
Tim nodded sagely, and turned to Henry, asking, "Have you been practicing?"
"Somehow, I haven't found the time," remarked Henry. "Mary has kept me quite busy, between one thing and another," he said, with a significant look at Tim.
Tim looked annoyed, but relaxed his features. "Yes, I can imagine. Edmund has been keeping us busy as well, but I suppose it must be harder to prepare for a bride."
"Harder, yes," Henry replied, raising his eyebrows. "And she has not even started to prepare yet--right now she is still in the process of telling us all about her Mr. Edmund. You can be sure that we know all about your brother."
"Is there that much to know?" He paused. "What I mean is that my brother has not decided yet upon where he is to live."
"I hope he will settle close to Mansfield Park," said Fanny, reminding them that she was there. Henry turned to her with a smile.
"You are a worthy cousin, Miss Price. But even if he does move miles away, you will have a good friend here."
Fanny lowered her eyes, her face flushed slightly. "Thank you, Mr. Crawford."
"However," broke in Tim, "I do not think that they will be living so very far away; I am sure the Grants will want her to live close to the Parsonage. You will all miss her," he said to Henry.
"I think we will all miss her, at both houses," was Henry's reply, and Tim looked over in Melissa's direction. She sat under Edmund's gaze, listening to him talk to his mother and aunt. She would smile whenever the occasion called for it, but often her eyes would wander across the table.
"I have no doubt that my father will be pleased by this match," Tim heard Edmund say, "for Miss Crawford, I believe, is just the sort of young lady he always told Tom and me to find." He smiled down upon Melissa. "I think he shall be very impressed by her."
"Oh, yes," said Lady Bertram; "Miss Crawford is a very nice girl--very pretty, Edmund. I always wished you to marry a pretty girl."
"And fine, too," added Mrs. Norris. "She dresses well, though I hope, Edmund, that you will be able to persuade her to use economy when choosing materials. A clergyman may not always be able to provide the finest clothes, even with the benefit of a few thousand pounds."
"But I should not like her to dress in rags," protested Edmund. "Miss Crawford is not used to having to wear country fashions."
"Oh, indeed," put in Melissa, "I think she will be able to adjust." Tim could not help but notice the languid look in her eyes. He saw Edmund take her hand and murmur something in her ear, but he could not hear what he told her.
Soon Edmund proposed that they go hear Miss Crawford play the pianoforte, which Melissa gradually agreed to.
When seated at the pianoforte, she began to consider which song to play; always a hard task. She began to mentally go through her catalogue; most to be dismissed as unsuitable in either tune, lyric, or subject matter. Suddenly, she remembered that she did know at least one old English song, and she began to play "Greensleeves". Edmund seemed quite satisfied by the tune, and smiled dreamily as she played and sang.
Tim, however, was not quite so pleased. Out of all the songs in the world, the one that filled him with the most revulsion was "Greensleeves". When younger, he had been forced to labor on the piano, and that tune was a great favorite of his mother's--he was induced to play it so many times that he ended up ripping up his instruction book and gave up the piano altogether. With matters in such a state, he began to wonder at what he could have done to Melissa that would make her hate him so much as to play that evil ditty, and all excruciating eight verses as well! By the end of the song, he was only reflecting what a lucky chance it was that he did not moan in pain.
The rest of the company, however, was immune to Tim's distress, and all applauded enthusiastically to the recognizable tune.
"Prettily done," said Miss Price. "You have a real talent, Miss Crawford."
"Thank you, Miss Price, but indeed it is all the fault of your capital instrument here."
"Yes, indeed," said Tim quickly, recovering himself. "Let us now sit and talk together quite cozily, for I look on you as quite one of the family now, Miss Crawford."
"Thank you, Mr. Bertram," said Melissa tonelessly, and sat down on the chaise, with Fanny on one side and Edmund to quickly appropriate the other.
The following conversation was quite undistinguished; neither inane nor particularly wise, it was merely strained as all four of the small quartet tried to speak when not inclined to. Melissa would cautiously glance at Fanny, and also at Tim, but could make nothing of their thoughts. Edmund's smiles upon her she uneasily returned, but felt her spirits oppressed, and soon their conversation melted into nothing. She managed to catch Henry's eye soon, and he managed to cajole the family into taking their leave. However, before they left, Mr. Yates spoke up from his conversation with Miss Julia.
"Lovers' Vows!" he cried.
"What?" said Tim, startled.
"Well, will we get together another practice soon? We must work on the play, you know!"
"Indeed," said Maria. "I cannot wait to see it acted, and I have my few lines learnt."
"I also," seconded Melissa, turning to her fiancé. "Perhaps we shall need to practice a little?"
He grinned. "Perhaps--I believe it would be best."
"And you and I also, Miss Crawford," suddenly interjected Tim.
She turned to him, surprised. Her eyes met his, and again she lowered her own. "Indeed, Mr. Bertram. I admit I sadly need work with my Amelia. I am not such a proficient actor as my brother."
"I am not surprised," said Fanny quietly.
Henry turned, hearing this voice, and looked into her eyes inquisitively. "Indeed--and why so, Miss Price?"
"Your sister has such an open, artless personality. Acting is duplicitous by nature; it seeks to create another reality, and as such, one must be able to disguise one's own looks and feelings and attempt to appear in such a way as suits the piece. Therefore, one so candid and true in nature must find it hard work to be other than she is," said the girl quietly, with quick breaths that made Melissa's eyes open wide in surprise. Fanny is daring! I bet now she is shocked by her own boldness, but it is just what Henry needs to hear. I have a feeling Miss Bertram's catty smile at this moment will quickly fade when Henry begins to devote his attentions to this guileless girl.
Henry's eyebrow raised, and he merely smiled. "Indeed, Miss Price. People such as you must find it alien to your nature to be other than what you are, but even this world can be deceiving in appearance. People can have many different sides, and because they can appear to be two different things at times does not make them duplicitous or untruthful to their natures."
Melissa smiled a small roguish smile. Well done, Henry! Now we see, it begins.
Fanny nodded, and then curtsied as the guests departed.
"Well, Fanny," said Maria once she saw off the carriage, "are you trying to scare Mr. Crawford away?"
Tim saw an embarrassed look come to Fanny's face. "No, I was only giving my opinion. I told Mr. Crawford what I thought he should hear."
"But it was disagreeable for him to hear. If people attack his character every time he comes to Mansfield Park, do you think he will be coming again?"
"Sister," interrupted Tim, "I do not think Fanny cares about that as much as you do. You are the one who takes an hour to prepare for his arrival whenever he comes."
"Well, I was only telling her," sniffed Maria. She lifted her head and walked out of the room, leaving only Tim and Fanny.
"I know I may be the only one to think this," said Tim, "but I rather liked what you told Crawford. I thought he deserved it."
"I hope I was not too hard upon him," Fanny murmured, looking him in the eyes.
"No, not at all. And does it really matter what he thinks of you?"
Fanny looked down again. "No, I suppose not."