Beginning, Previous Section, Section VII
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Part 23
Melissa secretly applauded herself for her slyness in getting in and out of the parsonage unsuspected, but the next morning at breakfast, she felt uneasily guilty under Henry's stare. She did not think that he could have noticed anything, her arrival had been so quiet. But all throughout the meal, Henry watched her, his eyes brimming with curiosity. Melissa, not wanting Henry to question her in front of Mrs. Grant, invited Henry to see how the garden got on as soon as they finished eating.
"Well?" she asked him, expectantly.
"Well," Henry answered, "I am glad you called me out to talk. If you hadn't, I think that I would have gone to seek you."
Melissa scrutinized his expression, and was rather surprised to find that he was not joking. Concern was evidently marked upon Henry's face when he talked to her. Melissa knew that she could not act as though nothing had happened, so she smilingly inquired what he had to tell her.
"Nothing, but that I heard you come home late last night, or this morning, rather," replied Henry. "Surely you do not think me ignorant of your situation?"
"But all was safe," Melissa said carelessly. "I can assure you that he would be the last person to act questionably. It was hardly anything at all."
"It may not seem so, but you do not know how men can be. You are my sister, Mary; it is natural that I would care about you."
Melissa almost laughed. Is this Henry? She found the lecture too good to miss, so she accordingly did not tell him the real cause of her visit.
"I know you care about me," she said with a pleasing smile, "but I knew that nothing could be wrong before I left. He sent me a note that made my arrival seem urgent."
Henry frowned. "But at two in the morning? Could he not have waited to make his declarations of love until the next day?"
"Oh! no, not in the light, when there are people around to watch. We needed to be perfectly alone, and I wore a black cloak so as not to have been observed in the bushes."
"The bushes? Darling Mary, and you thought nothing of it?"
"At first I was a little hesitant, but to witness all that passion--I would go there again."
"Perhaps you should not," Henry murmured.
"And this is from a rake? Dear brother, if you are worried that I will break your record, you needn't be."
Henry laughed. "But you forget that I am not engaged. And if I were, I do not think that I would secretly meet with my fiancée's sister early in the morning." He turned her a serious eye. "Even I would not do that."
Melissa could no longer act. "You thought I was with Mr. Bertram, you silly boy?" She told him the story of Yates' mistake, much to Henry's amusement. "But you must not tell a soul, for I swore secrecy, and you never know but that he might try singing at Miss Julia's window again."
Henry laughed. "Do not worry--I shall not tell a soul, but I rather wish I had seen this spectacle."
Melissa laughed with him. "Indeed, it was perfection! Yates piping away on his little flute, singing his heart out: it was very touching."
Henry's eyebrow raised. "How very picturesque," he commented caustically.
Melissa continued. "And the stature Yates took when the window opened!--his arms o'erstretched towards his Sun . . . I am sure that you could never take upon yourself the rapture or convey half the delight Yates did."
Henry snorted. "Of course not! I am not half so foolish as he, and I must thank you for not implying so!"
Melissa laughed, and then sighed. "Well, if you are disposed to do your dearest sister a favor, I should be much obliged to you."
"But why? Is Mrs. Grant much vexed with you?" he asked playfully, and she mockingly slapped his arm.
"Badly done, Henry! Too cruel! For that you must oblige me, you know."
"I am always happy to be obliged to you, dear Mary, for you are such a charming obligation."
She smiled. "I am happy to know that you know the truth so well. Now, all I want is for you to escort me over to Mansfield, for I am very curious to know the after-affects of our chanteur's expedition."
Henry smiled. "I admit to the same curiosity, my dear, and for that I shall escort you."
"Excellent!" cried Melissa, delighted, and the pair quickly walked towards the Park. Upon arrival, they were greeted with a very grim scene. Maria Bertram was chastened, as Mr. Rushworth apparently visited last night, having returned to Sotherton. Mr. Yates was chastened also, but cast many longing glances at Julia, with several deep sighs interjected often. Julia, Edmund, and Fanny were unconscious of anything having happened, and Tim . . . Tim was not immediately present upon their arrival; thus, Edmund was able to warmly greet his fiancée with a genuine smile.
"It is good to see you again, my dear--I quite missed seeing you yesterday, to my severe disappointment."
She smiled at this tribute, and offered her hand readily. "No more than I could miss your presence, dear Sir."
Henry looked over at her with those eyebrows raised, but since Melissa chose to ignore him, his attention was quickly focused upon Miss Price.
"How do you do this morning, Miss Price? Were you the recipient of undisturbed sleep?"
"Yes, I was--were you, then, the victim of disturbed sleep?"
"Luckily, no, but I believe my sister was," he said with a significance glance.
"I should not have guessed, from her very fresh looks this morning," called out a voice to the group. Melissa turned, and saw Tim leaning on the doorframe. He walked over, and gracefully bowed. "It is very good to see you this morning, sister," he said, and smiled pointedly at her.
"A pleasure equally returned," she said with a smile, and with a small curtsey managed a look at him. When she looked, she noticed faint lines in his brow and under his eyes, where the skin seemed somewhat darker.
Edmund watched carefully, coughed, and gently taking Melissa's arm. "Well, if your sleep was disturbed, my dear, you must be feeling a little weary. Perhaps you would be the better to sit down."
"Indeed, I think I shall enjoy that," she said, and allowed Edmund to seat her to his right on the sofa as he sat in the middle. Tim, Henry, and Fanny followed suit, and once they were settled, Mr. Yates came over and joined them, taking a seat nearby Melissa.
"I am grieved to hear of your lack of sleep, Miss Crawford," he said with a sigh. "You should not tire yourself needlessly; your spirits might be inadvertently depressed."
Melissa smiled. "Indeed, Mr. Yates, I must give your own advice to you; you appear to be in more need of it than I. Your spirits seem more depressed than mine."
Yates smiled faintly, and Tim cast a cautious look down at her from behind a slightly frowning Edmund, but she did not notice. "I must inquire, Mr. Yates," she continued, "whether you have progressed in your work on the scenery. Have you mixed any colors that meet your exceedingly high standard?"
Yates' spirits seemed a bit roused by this inquiry, and his words seemed less melancholy than before. "Yes--I managed to find the proper consistency for the blue needed for the lakes, streams, and likewise, and I believe it will not be long before I master the greens necessary for the rippling fields, the wild overgrowths, and the cultured gardens."
She smiled broadly. "Such progress so soon! I am quite amazed--you seem to have a definite talent for all areas concerning the theatre. Not merely are you an excellent actor, but also a wonderful painter and set designer. Miss Price, I must recommend strongly that you should consult Mr. Yates here about the costumes; I should not be surprised if the advice he would give you upon the subject would be beyond all expectations."
"You flatter me most excessively," said Yates, his spirits brighter, "but I should be happy to lend Miss Price any of the humble aid I have to offer."
Miss Price quickly said all that was proper, and Melissa smiled. Surely, she felt a little bad forcing poor Fanny to put up with the over-exuberant spirits of Mr. Yates, but she did bring up his spirits by this, as well as relieving Christopher Jackson to some degree. Often she had this little feeling of wondering whether she was turning into a Emma, but surely she was doing a much better job than that lady!
However, this little anxiety was not aided when she happened to catch the presence of a knowing smile upon Tim's face. Am I a managing female? she wondered. I suppose that Tim's beloved Anna is not in any way managing--I am sure she lets Tim make decisions for her aplenty, and never would dream of interfering in anything not entirely her business. For some reason, the more she thought of Anna, the less she liked this creature.
It was at this moment that the door opened, and grandly in entered Mr. Rushworth. Maria's face was lit up in horror for a moment, but was quickly suppressed, and he was met with a charming smile from his fiancée. It was necessary to introduce Yates to Rushworth, and Edmund manfully made the sacrifice. The two drew him into conversation, and most reluctantly did he talk with them as they both talked at each other and at him about their pet schemes: plays and his home, in that order.
At this moment, Tim took the opportunity to move closer to Melissa, and with a pointed smile, whispered to her, "I see that Edmund has sold himself down the river--he is not alone, by far! You did me a most reprehensible turn!" he cried, half-playfully, half-accusingly.
"Whatever do you mean, Mr. Bertram? I have no idea what you can mean," she said, playing dumb.
"Don't try that, Melissa--you cannot convince me that you did not set me up, especially when Yates just happened to be singing a song from South Pacific!"
"Well, I cannot allow you to say I did you a reprehensible turn. Indeed, Tim, your happy privilege has been coveted, I assure you."
"Happy privilege? And what was that?"
"The delight of hearing Yates sing! I did not mean for him to sing under your window, I assure you, but it was most amusing that the happy chance occurred."
"Happy chance indeed! I assure you, it was most unpleasant to be woken up by the braying of Mansfield's own Liberace. His swoonings and moonings were most disturbing--I did not get a wink at all; and I perceive that you were luckier than I."
"Not at all luckier--I wish I had seen you and Yates much better as you sparred--I was hidden in the bushes, and did not move for fear I should be noticed."
"Ahh! I wondered where you were hiding; I knew if you had set Yates to the task, you would not miss the opportunity of witnessing my discomfort," he said, any real anger having disappeared by this point.
"No, that was not what I wanted to see, but that was just a bonus. Surely, I was treated to an excellent view of Yates' particular brand of amusement. Indeed, although I did miss sleep, I cannot repine: even though Henry caught me."
"What?"
"Yes! Apparently Henry heard me coming in, and he took me to task most seriously--to think it, he believed I had run off to an assignation with you!" she said, a faint smile on her face.
"Indeed," he said after a pause, his voice a little fainter, "A most unbelievable circumstance."
"Yes," Melissa said, endeavoring to control her voice. "After all, I am engaged, and you . . . well, you are as good as engaged."
"It is true. But Crawford does not know of my engagement--not unless you told him."
"Oh, no. In fact, I think I have forgotten about your engagement until now." Melissa did not look at him as she spoke, realizing that her eyes would betray the truth. She knew that lying was foolish, but if Tim appeared to be so satisfied with his thoughts of Anna, why should she not act happiness with Edmund?
Her careless remark was met with an unsurprised look from Tim; his mouth remained firm, his brow untouched, but for one instant there was a tremor of pain in his blue eyes. Melissa did not notice, for which Tim was glad, and he smiled as though amused.
"So then your darling Henry made a mistake," he observed.
Melissa laughed. "Regarding Yates' original plan, yes, but Henry did not turn out to be wrong in the end: I was near you. If I did not see you, I at least was in your presence."
"True," acknowledged Tim with a smile, "and I hope never again. Your presence now is delightful, Miss Carrington, but in the middle of the night, with the sound of Yates' singing as the accompaniment--I must tell you that it is not quite desirable."
Melissa nodded understandingly. "I assure you that it shall never happen again, sir. Mr. Yates has drawn out a map now of Miss Julia's room's exact location, just in case he decides to play again for her."
"And what will be the song this time? Shall you teach him 'On the Street Where You Live?'"
"Perhaps I will! First, I will have to persuade him to make the attempt. Mr. Yates' confidence is rather shaken."
"So I see," Tim said, grinning. "He has exchanged his gold rings for small silver ones."
Melissa laughed. "So Rushworth visited last night? How goes it with him?"
"For him, splendidly; for Maria, rather badly." Tim's face took on the amused expression he always wore when talking of Miss Bertram's disappointments. "Rushworth came with the intention of settling the engagement; his mamma is rather anxious to get him sent on his wedding tour. I cannot see why! But Rushworth proposed that they be married a month from the day, and poor Maria could do nothing but agree, as Sir Thomas will surely be home by then, and Mrs. Norris wants Maria to be settled as soon as possible."
"Poor girl, indeed," laughed Melissa. "What anticipation! But we should be on our guard, for she will most likely try to flirt with Henry as much as she possibly can in one month."
Their conversation was interrupted when, from across the crowded room, Melissa saw Edmund motion her to take a walk with him outdoors.
"I must go," she told Tim, getting up and straightening out her skirts. As she started to leave, she was summoned back by Tim.
"Wait," he said in a whisper. "I told you before that I thought it would be undesirable to be in your presence when Yates sang at night, but that is not quite true. If Yates decides to serenade Julia again, I would like to go watch the spectacle with you. I am in need of a good laugh."
Melissa looked at him with wide eyes, then smiled. "You are welcome to, but I assure you that we will not make the same mistake again!"
Tim laughed, despite Edmund's glares from across the room. "I know you will not. Perhaps Yates amuses me more than you think! I will come to the parsonage to escort you over whenever the call may come."
"But what will Henry say of it?"
"Henry will not know! And if he does, our excursion is innocent enough."
"Very well," finally agreed Melissa, though not without a smile. "Now I really must go." She followed Edmund out, looking at Tim once more before leaving the room.
Her thoughts at this moment were much happier. Tim's words had brought her spirits up quite well, despite the knowledge that Edmund would be treating her to a lecture--he had said her presence was delightful, and he even expressed the wish to go with her! but then, who would want to miss out on Yates' brilliance; at least, when they were fully awake? She realized that she needed to be more wary of Tim, and especially those fine eyes of his, if she wished to keep her own peace.
Edmund led her along through the house, and out toward the shrubbery. As they walked along, he coughed uncomfortably and then began to speak. "Mary; I think you know what I wish to speak to you about . . ."
She sighed. "I know--you need not say more, sir. I shall try to do better, but you must allow me a few mistakes."
He nodded. "I understand, and I do--it is merely that I find it hard to watch you flirting with Yates, and--and him."
Melissa's eyebrow raised. "Flirting?" she repeated. "What is your definition of flirting, Mr. Bertram? Any semblance of amiable conversation? If so indeed, then I flirt with a great many people indeed."
Edmund had the grace to blush a little. "No--perhaps flirting is not the right word, but I do find it distressing to see you so cozy with Tom."
Melissa became a little angry. "Mr. Bertram, I can assure you that you need not fear if you suspect your brother of attempting to seduce me, for he is not! He and I are merely friends, and since very soon we will be brother and sister, I see no reason why you should make both yourself and me ridiculous by these tedious jealous fits you keep having!"
"Ridiculous? Jealous?" Edmund cried, a little flurried himself.
"Indeed--or at least, it appears to be jealousy, although I cannot imagine what you have to be jealous of. Perhaps it is merely some spiteful motive that you harbor when you inform me that my conduct is not good enough to be a Bertram!" she said, shaking his arm off.
"Mary! Now you're being unreasonable! I never said anything of the kind!"
"But you implied it!" she cried, with a look at him.
"I did not mean to imply anything!"
"But you did!" she exclaimed, and began to march away. Having unintentionally managed to turn the tables upon Edmund, she was not about to let go of her upper hand. It would be a good idea to have Edmund promise not to become jealous when he saw her talking with Tim.
Edmund, of course, followed. "I did not!"
"Yes, you did!" cried Melissa turning around to look back at him.
"No, I did not!"
"Yes, you did!"
"No, I didn't!"
"Yes, you did!"
"No, I didn't!" Edmund cried in frustration.
"I assure, you did!" she cried triumphantly, and began to walk away. Edmund seemed to inwardly moan for a moment, then sighed.
"If I did, I am sorry. I should not wish to imply any such thing."
Melissa paused for a moment, thinking how to phrase her next thoughts. "And if you should extend an apology and promise to allow me more freedom, I should be quite happy to end this disagreeable conflict."
Edmund's brow furrowed. "I am not sure. While I am sure that your contact with my brother is of an innocent nature, and while I am sure he means not to seduce you," he said with a significant look in her direction, "you must allow me to feel unease when I see you around Yates. Surely, no sensible woman could wish to become affianced to such a man--"
"But a woman with a deep appreciation with the ridiculous might!" she exclaimed suddenly. "You must admit, he is so very amusing. While society has always managed to provide me with amusing specimens, there is something so extraordinary in Yates' frivolity . . . I've never seen anything quite like it."
Edmund then obviously remembered a few previous incidents, and appeared to redden a little. "You have always found Yates so amusing, then?"
"Yes--I was immediately impressed by his amusing qualities, and nothing he ever did discouraged me in believing him entertaining--" she said, then suddenly remembered the times Edmund tried to copy Yates, and felt the urge to laugh with fierce vigor. For a few moments she was in danger of succumbing to the impulse, but she smiled and tucked her arm into his. Edmund was not exactly the most charming man, but she liked him in a way. He was a decent man, and while not her perfect match, he would be a comfortable husband, and she could always have Fanny and Henry to visit.
"But then, as you say, who could wish to marry a mere fop? As I once said to Henry, I find that Mr. Yates is best appreciated at a distance, when one is free to laugh without fear. To marry Mr. Yates would surely provide all the entertainment that I should ever need for three lifetimes, yet it would be highly unsatisfactory as I never could express my mirth about him."
Edmund snickered at this, but she continued. "And also, he would become tiresome at some point; one cannot always be frivolous, as one cannot always be serious."
"Perhaps you are right, but I would say it is more important to be serious than frivolous."
"Indeed, but you must always retain a sense of humor, and one should always spend at least five minutes a day being silly to preserve one's sense of humor. Seriousness has its limits--after that, it becomes prosing, pedantic, and drives people to frivolity, which is worse than unknowingly being frivolous."
"As we have just seemed to have recovered from our first argument, I will merely say that you are quite right, as always," said Edmund diplomatically, provoking a happy laugh from Melissa. She believed that he would be more lax in the future, however, she was prepared to wait and see. At any rate, it was obvious that he admired her and disliked to be at odds with her for long. Melissa wondered just how much affection Edmund Bertram had for her. Surely his irrational jealousy of his own brother proved that he was quite in love with her, and perhaps more so than he was in love with Mary Crawford in the novel. Whatever he lacked in humor, he made up for in admiration.
Part 24A
When the pair walked inside, the group awaited them in the sitting room. The stage, it seemed, was dry of paint, and Yates thought that it would be ready to practice upon as long as no one touched the paint, for he feared that the bright colors still might smear and become less brilliant. Melissa smiled at the idea, though it made Edmund less happy to have to act the part of the Count after he had just made up with Melissa.
The scene was to be the second in the second act, a part that had not been acted much due to a lack of good ranting speeches for the Baron. Yates thought the Baron's lines with his daughter a trifle dull; the best were near the end, but he did need to rehearse those that were not already memorized and in his head.
Melissa left her seat near Edmund to join Yates at the stage, and prepared to read with the fop. As much as she enjoyed acting with such a master, Melissa was disappointed when she flipped to the scene, discovering the subject of it. Reading the meaningful lines might upset Edmund, only to cause another argument, and Melissa did not find it exactly . . . fun to argue with Edmund.
"'Amelia,'" read Yates, putting feeling into the name, and grinning widely, "'you know you have a father who loves you, and I believe you know you have a suitor who is come to ask permission to love you. Tell me candidly how you like Count Cassel?'"
Melissa bit her lip. "'Very well.'"
"'Do not you blush when I talk of him?'"
"'No.'"
"'No--I am sorry for that,'" muttered Yates. "'Have you dreamt of him?'"
"'No.'" She could not help but glance in Edmund's direction, but he did not seem to notice, being immersed in silently going over his lines for his entrance. It was just as well, she thought.
Yates put on a frown. "'Have you not dreamt at all to-night?'"
"'Oh yes--I have dreamt of our chaplain, Mr. Anhalt.'" She spoke slowly, looking at the floor.
"'Ah ha!'" cried Yates, jumping from his chair, "'As if he stood before you and the Count to ask for the ring.'"
"'No: not that--I dreamt we were all still in France, and he, my tutor, just going to take his leave of us forever--I 'woke with the fright, and found my eyes full of tears.'" Edmund did not seem at all to mind her words; they did not affect him as they did her. Perhaps he did not grasp the meaning that stood out so glaringly to her. With a sigh, Melissa scanned the room. Yes, there he was. She saw blue eyes dreamily gazing into the air. For a moment, Melissa believed that he, too, had felt a connection to the words, that all the feeling was entirely reciprocated, but again the dark name of Anna hit her mind hardly; she remembered the other engagement.
Yates' dialogue stopped and it was her turn to recite. She tried to shake off her musings while chiding her mind for letting such thoughts enter it. When the Count entered in the person of a nervous Edmund, Melissa smiled at him with more happiness than the part called for.
"'Ah, my dear Colonel! Miss Wildenhaim, I kiss your hand,'" said Edmund, gallantly taking his lady's hand, and kissing it. He was obviously making an effort to be grand, but when compared with Yates' bold roar, his voice was thin.
"'Good morning! Good morning! though it is late in the day, Count. In the country we should rise earlier.'"
Melissa then walked over to the little table, and handed a cup to Edmund.
"'Is it Hebe herself, or Venus, or--'" declaimed Edmund, or at least, tried to declaim, which induced Melissa to laugh at the right moment.
"'Ha ha ha! Who can help laughing at his nonsense!'" she cried, and cast a cautious look at a certain young man in the audience. He had a faint smile on his face at this line, but his attention seemed to still be abstracted in a dreamy gaze. She sighed, and the scene continued. Suddenly, her cue came again.
"'I am sorry I have not seen the world,'" she answered, sitting next to Yates.
"'Wherefore?'"
"'Because I might then, perhaps, admire you.'"
"'True;--for I am an epitome of the world. In my travels I learnt delicacy in Italy--hauteur, in Spain--in France, enterprise--in Russia, prudence--in England, sincerity--in Scotland, frugality--and in the wilds of America, I learnt love.'"
"'Is there any country where love is taught?'"
"'In all barbarous countries. But the whole system is exploded in places that are civilized.'"
"'And what is substituted in its stead?'" Melissa asked, inwardly laughing as she thought of how odd Edmund was when playing Count Cassel. The scene continued, with Edmund attempting to flirt and Melissa trying to keep the suitor at bay. She cast glances at Tim in the audience, but to no avail--she could not catch his eye.
She smiled at him when she was leaving the stage and he was entering for his scene. He gave her a nod and a half smile, avoiding her eyes. Melissa tried to ignore it, but she could not help but feel pained. To raise her spirits, she took a chair next to Henry.
He appeared to be bored, watching with a lazy haze over his face. He smiled upon receiving Melissa.
"Did you come to be congratulated upon your performance?" he teased in a whisper.
"No! I am not so vain as you, Henry, all of which makes it more dangerous to inform you that I came to enjoy your company."
"So that is it!" Henry smiled confidently, folding his arms, and putting his feet upon an empty chair in front of him. He turned to watch the acting for a moment. "But why are you in need of my conversation now?" he asked, letting his eyes drift over to the stage, where Yates' Baron sat commanding Tim's passionate Anhalt. Melissa followed the gaze, but hers focused more upon the latter. "Again, why?" questioned Henry. "Why do you need my diverting powers when you can look upon his beauties?"
Melissa's eyes quickly went back to Henry. "Dearest Henry, if you think that I could be so dazzled by a man's appearance alone . . . A pretty face may be able to capture you, but I am in need of one who is kind as well. I do not just stare at men; and what would be the point of staring at Mr. Bertram when he barely notices me now, and I am--am in love with his younger brother?"
Henry's brow raised, but he discreetly did not scrutinize her face as she feared he would. "I was speaking of the beauties of Yates," he murmured.
"Oh, yes, I see," Melissa stumbled. Her blushed face turned in the direction of Yates, for whom she forced a smile. "His clothes are quite lovely today." Henry, noticing her discomfort, did not reply, so Melissa was free to watch the scene. As much as she tried, she could not stop herself from particularly following Tim. It seemed that his acting grew better daily, for he was playing the part of the love-smitten clergyman very well. His face grew pink like one in love, his voice trembled. When the Baron left, Tim looked around with a nervous sigh.
"'This commission of the Baron's in respect to his daughter, I am--If I shou'd meet her now, I cannot--I must recover myself first, and then prepare.--A walk in the fields, and a fervent prayer--After these, I trust, I shall return, as a man whose views are solely placed on a future world; all hopes in this, with fortitude resigned.'"
He was clapped for at the ending of the act, which he shook off with smiles. Melissa regretted his departure from the stage, the only place where she could watch his face light up now. No sooner than Henry left the seat next to her, however, did Tim occupy it. He pulled the chair closer to Melissa's and glanced at her face.
"Are you well?"
Melissa smiled and nodded. Was she still blushing so much? "I am. I was just enjoying your acting."
"Thank you, but to tell the truth, I was not enjoying it. I think that we have rehearsed this play so much that I am already tired of it." He sighed. "And soon there is the other scene--the one between Anhalt and Amelia. I hope we run out of time before we can act it," he said, smiling.
A sharp pierce was Melissa's initial response. "Then do you not enjoy that?"
"Oh, at first, but the words are really rather silly. I sometimes think that Mrs. Inchbald was against men, the way she has her Anhalt speak."
Melissa smiled. "But he is in love--people say silly things when they are in love. Have not we all? . . . Have not you?"
Tim shrugged, then opened his mouth as if to speak, and then stopped to consider, and tried again. "I must suppose that I have said some ill-considered things, but I do not know if I have said anything silly. Surely, I am an inadequate judge of my own words, you must admit."
Melissa thought for a moment. "Perhaps you would be reluctant to judge your own words silly, Mr. Bertram, but I must not let you off--I assume that you have said things you wish unsaid; words that did your heart credit but not your mind."
Tim paused, and vaguely looked at the stage with a hint of a smile before turning to look back at her. "I acknowledge that you speak true, Miss Crawford, but I invariably find that usually it is the words unsaid that I regret more than the spoken ones. One may wish hasty words unsaid, but how often more does one regret not saying those words that, but for cowardice, would have secured one a happier future! Such many have said to me, and the more I see of the world and the more I experience of it, the more I realize how true this is."
Melissa turned back to the stage in confusion, silently in agreement with these thoughts. With her response, she took shelter in levity. "How very pensive, how desolate that thought is, Mr. Bertram! A young man, in the prime of youth such as yourself--you surely have had very few experiences where such unspoken words have changed your history. Surely, you are too young to be regretting the words that were never uttered. I might imagine myself sitting next to Byron himself, having heard such a speech. Only such an impossibly romantic fellow can have had such wide and vast experience where at the age of . . . what, three-and-twenty? he can regret having not implored several of his mistresses to stay with him."
Tim's mouth opened in his irrepressible grin, and he laughed. "By the way you put that, I must disclaim all comparison with Byron, but I must say that even with only four-and-twenty on my plate, it is possible that I can wish I had spoken at some time when I did not." He seemed to sigh, and Melissa then remembered that he and Anna had not a perfect understanding when he had left London, and she sighed with him, albeit for slightly different reasons.
Melissa then sat back to enjoy Henry's noble rendition of Frederick, the poor young man humbling his proud nature to beg on his distraught mother's behalf. Melissa looked over to where Fanny sat, spellbound, and with a smile at Tim, walked over to where she sat and took the seat next to her.
"I see, Miss Price, that certainly I must take you to London the next time I go. With such excessive enjoyment in my sad brother's performance, you would certainly enjoy the excellent talents of the Kembles, and the great Siddons. Or perhaps you might be better tempted by Mrs. Jordan, and her charming comic characters? You seem quite in raptures by our little effort with an indifferent script; I think surely Drury Lane actors, acting Shakespeare must put you into such transports that I will need to take smelling salts to revive you," she said kindly, a smile on her face.
Fanny, thus recalled to the world, began to sew upon a pink satin cloak that presumably would attire Edmund. "Indeed--as I have said, I have seen little acting before, and your brother is so very talented, that I forget what I am about." She blushed charmingly in confusion, and Melissa impulsively gave her hand a squeeze.
"Certainly, Henry's talents are such as to make any person of sensibility and taste forget the tedium of such a task as sewing--I rather wonder that you allow yourself to be so imposed upon, and so easy you bend yourself to the more tiresome of tasks! If I should undertake such kindness, I would force Henry to compliment me on my good-will and generosity every five minutes, but you are much better than I in many things."
Fanny shook her head. "I do not find the task so tiresome as you--certainly, you are not used to onerous labor, but I am sure you could accomplish anything you wished if you would but undertake it. However, I am used to plying a needle often, and I quite enjoy it."
"Ah, but not as much as you might enjoy a ride on your horse? Indeed, Miss Price, I have observed that your aunt Norris is very much inclined to keep you occupied in the house and does not let you have a moment's peace in which you can have some exercise. If you could manage it, I should very much enjoy to go walking with you, or if you prefer riding, I am sure Henry could keep you company. He is an excellent rider, you know, and I am sure he would be delighted to escort you," Melissa said, seizing on this sudden idea with alacrity. Surely, Henry would be able to make himself an acceptable companion with such constant intercourse.
Fanny looked down at her sewing, and continued. "I should not wish to incommode either you or your brother."
"Of course not! It would be no trouble at all, I assure you! Both my brother and I enjoy your company, so nothing could be a happier task than to have it constantly assured to us!" she said enthusiastically. She then said, "If it should inconvenience you, of course . . ."
"Oh, no! It would be a great delight, I assure you!" Fanny quickly said, not wanting to disappoint.
"Then it is settled--as my brother is coming down, I shall speak to him with great readiness," she said, and Melissa quickly went up to him with the intention to describe her plot to him, when Mr. Yates came to her.
"Miss Crawford, it is now your scene. You and Mr. Bertram must perform now," he said, gesturing towards the stage, and she turned to trudge up the stairs to become Tim's Amelia. She thought that if her talk with Tim contributed nothing else, it had at least made the onstage conversation with him seem less daunting. She was not sure how she would have fared before he came to talk with her. Meeting Tim for the first time in days, she probably would have made a fool of herself.
As it was now, the laughs between the two contrived to lessen their nervousness to a degree, though they still found many of the lines difficult to utter. But Melissa was at ease, well able to concentrate as she had not been able to the first time. She watched Tim's face as he acted; for one who had dismissed the words as silly, he put all the necessary feeling into them. His eyes focused upon hers quite often, fleeing away when she would catch them, as the hesitant Anhalt might do. Tim's face would look pained one moment, then happy the next. Melissa really had not believed him to be so accomplished an actor.
They were able to get through the entire scene this time without the reservations and tremblings of before, and Yates applauded the pair happily.
"Bravo! That was excellent! Wonderfully convincing!" he cried, getting up from his chair. "You two act love scenes better than most--better than myself, I must admit," he added with a sigh in Julia's direction. "That will be all for today."
Tim and Melissa smiled at each other, amused at the man, but also a little pleased by his compliment.
"Miss Carrington," Tim addressed her in a whisper, "if ever I am involved in another play in which I must play the lover, I shall send for you to join me as my Juliet. With compliments to you, of course."
"And you also. Indeed, I have not acted in a love scene before in all my life," she said, lowering her eyes, then raising them back to his. "It is odd that we should do so well. It must be because we are such close friends."
"I believe you are right," Tim said in a low tone.
Part 24B
Maria Bertram was insistent that they all eat dinner there that evening, since she would be so soon going away.
"I shall never be with all of you again as myself," she said, with a cat's glance directed towards Henry. He gave her a grin, but to her disappointment, Henry ended up sitting by Fanny Price. The girl gave him a nervous smile, but appeared more comfortable when Melissa quickly took the chair at her other side. Somehow, Yates managed to find the chair on Melissa's other side, and conversation ensued.
"Henry, I must tell you about the plans Miss Price and I devised--or, more accurately, I made," she said with a grin.
"Ah . . . you have devised a plan? Poor Miss Price! the victim of my sister's plans! I feel your pain most profoundly, Miss Price!"
Miss Price smiled momentarily, then began to say, "Your sister has not imposed upon me--"
"Miss Price, you must allow me to have a superior knowledge of my sister, and anytime Mary makes a plan," said Henry, looking into Melissa's eye, "she usually must be imposing upon someone, for no one with sound judgement as yourself would willingly agree to them."
"Badly done, Henry!" cried Melissa in complaint. "Indeed, badly done! That was not gentlemanly of you--indeed, I begin to believe I shall not tell you the plan, and I shall leave you out of this happy contemplation all together."
"Mary, surely you cannot hold a few comments against me entirely? To make a plan right before my eyes, and not to tell me about it, now that is badly done."
"What do you think, Miss Price?" asked Melissa, turning to Fanny with a smile. "Should we let him in upon our plans?"
"I do not see what is so special about these plans, but if Mr. Crawford should like to know, I see no reason why not to tell him."
"If Miss Price is inclined to favor you, Henry, I think I should be churlish to withhold reward. The plan is simple: that you could escort Miss Price on horseback every day while she goes for a ride. She needs exercise, you know, so I thought that if one of us went with her, she would be sure to get it--but if you would be too busy . . ." she said, a sly smile on her face.
"Indeed. I should be happy to be of assistance to Miss Price, if she would but accept my humble services," he said, turning from Melissa's eye to Fanny.
"Indeed! if it would be no trouble," said Fanny, a little uncertainly.
"I assure you, I shall look forward to our time together every day," he said with a captivating smile. Fanny returned the look with a small smile of her own that bespoke of a certain uneasiness.
Melissa decided to save the girl from further embarrassment, and to change the subject.
"Mr. Yates," she said, turning to the man, "I did not get a good look at your outfit today. Is it new?" she asked, causing him to wake from his reverie, and he carelessly glanced down at his outfit.
This outfit was a particularly nice one. He had somewhere found a fabric designed with red, white, and blue horizontal stripes that made up a fine waistcoat, which he had matched with a puce jacket with gold trimmings--his pants were emerald, and pattered with an orange paisley.
"Why, yes, it is!" he cried. "How could you tell?"
"Just a guess--it really is quite fetching! How do you choose your clothing?"
"I choose my garments the same way I act, Miss Crawford--with feeling." He nodded gravely in response to her smile, moving closer to her. "I should not like everyone to hear this, but you seem to be the recipient of many of my secrets."
"Oh, Mr. Yates, you are too kind. I can really not tell you how touched. . ."
Yates waved her gratitude away with a heavily-jeweled hand. "But this is not a secret like that," he said with a quick, yet miserable glance in Julia's direction. "No; I feel safe telling you this secret because I know that you have style of your own; you will not rob me of my precious flair for clothing."
Melissa smiled warmly. "Do not fear, Mr. Yates. Though tempted, I shall not copy any of your outfit ideas."
"I knew it would be so," he happily replied, rather recklessly patting her curls. His hand stopped at a ruby hair ornament, which he admired, looking as though he was mentally taking the design down into his mind. Melissa only shrugged her shoulders when Henry happened to see them.
Melissa tried to capture the fop's attention once more.
"You say you choose outfits with feeling? How do you go about doing that?"
"By how I feel when I wake up. It is a rather complicated process, which is part of the reason why I almost always miss breakfast. You see, dear Miss Crawford, I must choose by separate pieces, matching them to my mood perfectly. Even the shoes and jewels hold colours that attract me on that particular morning. Though my entire wardrobe is not with me at the moment (barely half), you probably have noticed that I never wear the same ensemble twice."
"Yes, certainly," praised Melissa. "I dare say that is one of the reasons your style appears so successful."
Yates smiled with pride. "Yes, but it is not only the clothes; my hair also takes a great deal of work."
"Your crowning achievement . . ."
"But again, it takes work. I do not wake up like this," he said, delicately touching his perfectly molded hair. "It takes many tools, many mixtures I must have specially made in London. It is excessively costly, but worth it, would not you say?"
Melissa replied that she would say, seeing that she could say nothing else.
"Of course my clothing is specially made as well, but that is only because I design most of it myself. If only I were skilled with a needle! Alas, my mamma never found the need to teach me that. But I can make a tolerably good drawing when I am inspired enough; I send them to my tailors, and they have learnt how to make a sort of method out of my madness, if you will. The clothes are surprisingly good, but the greatest intensity can be found in my original sketches."
"Indeed, Sir?" Melissa asked, surveying his outfit with wide eyes. "I find that hard to believe!"
"But it is true, Miss Crawford! My watercolours are twice as vivid as any kind of fabric could be." Watching Melissa respond with laughter, Mr. Yates finally suggested that he take her to see his sketches; then she would see that they truly did show more genius than the sewn clothing.
Melissa could not resist the offer, so after dinner, she discreetly followed Yates to his room.
Yates was staying in what was Sir Thomas' room, which was right off the stage. The door to that room was open, and Melissa decided to sneak through the "theatre" so as to be less conspicuous. She saw the warm haze of candlelight coming from Yates' room, and she walked up the stage and peeped inside the room.
It was exactly what she would have expected, but the brilliance was so blinding that she blinked a few times, slightly shocked. She could so easily see what the room must have been like during Sir Thomas' habitation, and the changes made by Yates, that she nearly burst into laughter, thinking about what Sir Thomas would say when he came home.
Yates apparently liked to make himself feel at home while staying away from it; large bolts of brightly colored fabric were spread out over the furniture. Also, several hideous shades of paisley were draped over glass globes covering candles, creating odd patterns of light on the walls. He also had apparently had the drapes to the four-poster bed removed, for Melissa somehow suspected that Sir Thomas would not have pea green striped with yellow in his room.
Other interesting things were the Chinese articles in the room--little red lanterns were strung on a string across the room, although not lit. A Chinese screen was set up in one corner, and a bamboo chair sat near the bed, looking quite out of place next to the mahogany that was Sir Thomas' choice. The wardrobe was open, with clothes wildly spilling out of it, as if the colors had headaches from looking at each other, and sought escape. There were papers all around, as well as creams, powders, and brushes enough for several vain young women. Melissa fought back a smile as Yates fumbled around in the handsome Queen Anne desk nearby, searching for his sketches.
"Ahh, I knew I had them somewhere in here, for I keep my watercolours in this drawer, with always a cup of water sitting out, convenient for whenever I have inspiration."
"Very clever indeed," said Melissa, her praise purposefully moderate.
After a few moment moments of paper ruffling, a cry was heard and Yates emerged with a handful of sketches. He sat down on the bed, and patted a space next to himself. "Here, sit and look at these. I should very much like your opinion, you know."
Melissa obediently took both the seat and the sketches, and began to examine them eagerly. As he himself modestly said, his drawings were tolerably good, not nearly as horrid as Melissa had led herself to expect. They were neatly-drawn, and the figure constant on all the pages was fairly done. But Melissa was surprised--the colours were more vibrant on the paper, though she couldn't say how.
"Indeed, Mr. Yates, you were right," she said aloud, examining a sketch for a man in a red hunting jacket with green trim and wearing green pants, "the watercolours are excessively bright! Pray, how do you manage it?"
Yates modestly smiled, and lovingly picked up a sketch with a white outfit drawn, covered in brass and brown spangles. "I have learned from many years' attempts that thick paper of excellent quality is needed. Observe how fine the paper is--it costs several pounds a packet, but feel the weight, the density! Also, I make sure to use water sparingly--a few drops are all that is necessary, and instead of being a light liquid, the paint is a tolerably thick paste. Of course, it means I run out of paint faster, but I think the effect is worth the expense."
Melissa nodded, attentively feeling the paper and lightly touching a painted chest. "Indeed--and I should never guessed it! Your artistic talents do you credit, sir!" she said warmly, and smiled at him.
Yates stared into her eyes for a few moments, and Melissa started to feel strangely uncomfortable. "Thank you, Miss Crawford," he said, and his eyes shifted, causing her to relax.
Yates then rose from his seat, and began to pace the room with quick, violent steps. He then turned to her, and said, "Miss Crawford, I need your help once more."
"Of course, Mr. Yates, I should be most delighted to help you," said Melissa, a little bewildered.
"My problem, Miss Crawford, has to do with the play," he said hesitantly.
"Lovers' Vows?"
"Yes--it is a problem akin to acting, but not exactly. I flatter myself that I am a tolerable actor, but in this case my tender feelings overwhelm me."
Seeing that Melissa looked slightly confused, Yates said, "I speak of the last act, Miss Crawford, and my scene with Miss Julia. Being a little over-tender in regards to her, I feel an unnatural anxiety in acting with her. I am sure you will understand."
"Of course, Mr. Yates. Who would not feel as you do, in your position?" she said warmly.
"Indeed," said Yates, seemingly gaining dignity. "Thus, I feel moved to ask for your help. Could you read the scene with me as Agatha, so I can begin to become used to it?"
"Of course!" said Melissa, and sat down with the nervous Yates to play Agatha.
"But you must allow me to make a few mistakes. I am usually not nervous when I act," Yates confided to her with frustration. "I can read scenes ranging from grave and morbid to ones that overflow with love, but this act, as subdued as it is . . ."
"Ah, but I told you I understand. Acting a love scene with one whom you really do have feelings for can be intimidating," Melissa said, seeming as though she were coming back to her meaning. "But you must try to fight back your love; do not overcome Miss Julia at a rehearsal--she can witness your romantic powers when you choose to sing to her." Yates looked up at her with a smile. "Much better, Mr. Yates! You shall read the scene with me, and when you are with her, you will be able to act with less of your own love for her. Such feelings can only get in the way of your acting."
Yates pondered for a moment. "I believe you are right," he said. "I do not want my acting to suffer, and yet I do not know how I shall be when I am acting with her."
"Come," Melissa pressed, sliding over the bamboo chair opposite the Russian throne-like seat in deep purple where Yates sat. Sitting down, she opened up one of Yates' extra copies of the play to the last scene.
"Shall we begin at Agatha's entrance?"
Yates' hand went out nervously. "No, no. I need time to prepare. Why do not we start at Amelia's entrance? You can play her and any of the other characters, as well as Agatha."
He managed to calm his short breaths to act out the Baron, giving his best paternal words to Melissa as she played Amelia. She sighed a little when she saw that she had to act Anhalt, but she went into the few speeches with the feeling that she knew Mr. Yates desired, whether he was nervous or not. She could not help but invest some of Tim's sincerity into the part, some of his soft-voiced charm. She made her own voice deep, reading,
"'His present happiness admits of no addition.'"
"'Nor does mine--And yet there is another task to perform that will require more fortitude, more courage, than this has done!'" Yates put his hand to his face dramatically. "'A trial that!--'" He motioned Melissa to wait, and ran to his nightstand, taking a pitcher of water and wetting his face. "You see? Tears!" he whispered with a smile. More loudly, sobs were acted as he continued, "'--I cannot prevent them--Let me--let me--A few minutes will bring me to myself--Where is Agatha?'"
"'I will go, and fetch her.'" Melissa walked out as Anhalt, going behind the great bed. The curtains provided a suitable wall for back stage, but Melissa was able to gaze through a small hole in the fabric (probably made by one of the man's hair irons) in order to catch a glimpse of Yates.
"'Stop! Let me first recover a little,'" he acted out with a heavy sigh. "'That door she will come from--That was once the dressing-room of my mother--From that door I have seen her come many times--have been delighted with her lovely smiles--How shall I now behold her altered looks! Frederick must by my mediator.--Where is he? Where is my son?--Now I am ready--my heart is prepared to receive her--Haste! haste! Bring her in.'"
He looked to the space by the bed, where Melissa shyly walked out. She had loosened her hair from its plait in effort to make it look disheveled. But Yates did not even notice her theatrical idea; he rushed to take her in his arms as the play called for. Melissa could not help but laugh at his dramatic hold of her, and she sunk in the bamboo chair with a feeling more than fatigue. Yates held her hand, kissing it happily, and spoke with his face closely in front of hers.
"'Agatha, Agatha, do you know this voice?'"
"'Wildenhaim,'" Melissa murmured, fighting back a smile.
Yates' voice trembled.
"'Can you forgive me?'"
"'I forgive you,'" Melissa's Amelia answered, dutifully putting her arms about him. Yates, being so already close to her, had only to fling his own arms around her, which he did fling so that his palms hit her back hardly. He retained his tight grasp, which Melissa put up with, but she was unsure of what to do when he leant his head upon her shoulder and burst into tears.
"I should not wish to ruin the Italian lace upon your sleeve," he cried, "but oh Miss Crawford, you are so good to me!"
"There, there, my dear Mr. Yates," Melissa replied with an amused smile, stroking his curls. He continued to sob loudly, snorting every now and then as he struggled to breathe through his tears. When Melissa attempted to pull away, he began to cling to her tightly, wailing.
"Shh . . . it is all right, Mr. Yates," she said soothingly, taking a deep breath in order not to laugh. After a few more minutes of Yates' sobbing, he finally pulled back, sniffling. She pulled out a handkerchief, and Yates began to blow his nose and dried his eyes. He began to offer the object back, but she closed his hands over it.
"Keep it--I perceive you might find it useful," she said kindly, somehow eliciting a smile from Yates. He took her hand in his, and stroked it.
"Thank you very much, Miss Crawford, for your help. You are so very kind to me, that I--I am very grateful to you," he finally said, and leaned over and kissed her on the cheek.
It was at this moment that Tim walked in.
"So, here you are, Mr. Yates!" he said quietly, and Yates and Melissa quick pulled apart. Melissa turned her head away, reddening, and even Yates had the grace to blush.
"Yes--I had--" said Yates, his voice wobbly.
"Mr. Yates was so very kind as to show me some of his clothing designs," said Melissa, looking up at Tim from her seat, wondering what his thoughts were. His face was emotionless, as she had expected.
"Ah. I see," said Tim in a voice designed to make one blush for what he thought he saw. "Well, Miss Crawford, I have to inform you that my brother has been looking for you, and I volunteered to come looking for you."
"Indeed--if Mr. Bertram is looking for me, then go I must." She turned back to Mr. Yates, and said kindly, "Thank you for showing me the sketches--they were very lovely."
"You are welcome, ma'am," murmured Yates quietly, and he rose to gallantly bow. Tim quickly took Melissa's arm, and began to walk her out of the room.
In the darkness of the theatre, he cast a look at her. "Do you need to go to a room for a moment?"
Melissa laughed lightly. "Not at all--as long as my gown is all right. Is it?" she asked, concerned. She started looking at her shoulders, straightening out any wrinkles on the dress. Tim's hands went to her shoulders to aid, and their hands met for a moment. Melissa immediately looked up at Tim, but his hands were quickly pulled away, and he was looking down at them as he rubbed them together to dust them off.
"Your gown appears all right," he said after a moment's pause, and looked back up at her with a small smile on his face that made Melissa immediately suspicious.
"What are you thinking, Mr. Brookston?" she asked.
"Nothing, nothing," said Tim, quickly disclaiming, but Melissa was too quick for him.
"I see! Well, if you imagine that Mr. Yates and I are an item, you are mistaken," she said quickly.
"Of course; you could not be--you are engaged to Edmund, correct?" he said, with a smile.
"Mr. Brookston, I merely volunteered to help Yates read a scene in Lovers' Vows between Agatha and the Baron, for he has been very upset by his passion for your sister, and he burst into tears so suddenly--"
"And then he kissed you," said Tim, that smile persisting.
"It was not as you think, I assure you! Yates has no imaginable romantic interest in me, and I regard him only as a friend. Do not you think that if I were enamored of Yates, I would break my engagement to Edmund? But that is about as likely as your breaking the engagement with your Anna."
"Which would be bad," pointed out Tim. He stared at her out of the corner of his eye for an answer, but Melissa did not notice, for she was arguing with her own thoughts.
"Ye . . . s," she slowly replied. For distraction, she started to pin back her curls. "I think that Mr. Edmund would be angry with me if I ended our engagement, but your engagement to Anna. . ."
"What?" Tim asked, giving her the same coaxing smile he would have given a child.
"I--I do not think that it would be quite so bad for you to break your engagement with her. I do not know if she is quite right for you."
"And what is this now?" Tim exclaimed, laughing. "My dear Miss Carrington, as much as I respect your opinion, can you tell me why you think that?"
Melissa bit her lip, already regretting her words. She did not think he would have responded so; she thought that he would have given her an angry response.
"Well, for one thing, she seems too quiet for you. I do not claim to be so very acquainted with you, Tim, but I think you need a girl with a little more . . . cunning. I do not know Anna, but from what you told me, she seems rather too nice."
Tim smiled at her with inquiring eyes.
"Too nice? Are you saying that I should marry a woman who pushes me around and makes sure that I follow her rule?"
"I cannot quite see that," admitted Melissa, smiling now, "but I think it should be nice to be in a relationship where one is at least mastered a little."
Tim laughed loudly in reply.
"Well, I wish you luck in finding a man who will be able to master you. In any case, Edmund will not be able to, even as pious as he is."
"I only said it would be nice," Melissa said, playfully giving him a light slap on his cheek. "If ever I get engaged again, I will make sure that I follow my own advice, but really, I do not think I would like to be ruled by Edmund. He would be too much like an old school teacher."
"You mean without feeling?" Tim asked. But watching Melissa grow grave-faced and turning her head from him, his own feelings relaxed into sympathy. "You might not have a master in him, but I know that he will love you; you would not believe how much he dotes upon you."
Melissa smiled, brushing away a stray curl from her forehead.
"Speaking of Mr. Edmund, I know that he will be waiting for me, and undoubtedly fearing for my reputation."
Tim hesitantly agreed, and he guided her out of the dark room, where rays of color still escaped from underneath the door leading to Mr. Yates' room. Edmund smiled a relieved smile upon seeing Melissa, but his look at Tim was less than kind.
Tim smiled roguishly at Melissa, causing her to grin back at him as she walked over to her fiancé, whose eyes were anxious as his smile was welcoming. Obviously, he thought back to their previous argument. She then made an effort to smile at him in reassurance, and took a seat next to him. He smiled back at her, and took her hand.
"And how is my lord and master today?"
Edmund grinned. "He is quite well today, I believe. And how is my princess?"
"No!" she said, rising from her seat. "I cannot be your princess, my dear, or anyone else's princess. I utterly refuse--Henry, what am I? Am I a princess?"
"Of course not, my dear," said Henry promptly. "You are a wretched beast."
"Henry!" she cried with a smile, walking over to him and playfully slapped him on the cheek, and then began to rub it tenderly. "You are too cruel to you sister--'tis unkind of you to misname me so."
"Ahh, Mary, I know you and your caressing ways too well to be tricked by them," said Henry with a smile, eyebrow raised.
"Oh! And you see, Mr. Bertram, how he treats me! I assure you that he is a biased source; while I am not a princess, I am not evil. On reflection, I believe you could call me . . ." She stuck her chin up in the air, and tapped it as she thought. "What am I?"
"Perhaps I might say something?" called out Tim from his seat by his aunt and mother.
"Mr. Bertram--?" she asked, a smile on her face.
"Well," he said, rising from his seat, "I believe you deserve some sort of endearment, for my brother will be your husband, but nothing angelic or over exaggerated, for that would be insincere and besides, it would be highly untruthful." She laughed, he smiled, and continued to speak. "So, it must be a compliment only a little above normal lines, and it must be very nice."
"And?" she asked.
"I would say that the perfect word for you . . . would . . . be . . . his little charmer, for I dare say that my brother finds you charming. Edmund?" he said, turning his head to look at his brother, who wasn't exactly worth looking at that moment.
"Charmer . . ." she repeated meditatively. She then turned to Edmund, whose face was now a lot more worth looking at. She walked over, and sat back down next to him. "Would you call that an adequate adjective for me? for, I must say, to be your little charmer sounds quite ideal."
He smiled ever larger. "You certainly are my little charmer, for you have charmed my heart right out of my breast."
She smiled, and took his hand and squeezed it. Tim watched for a moment, then went back to his seat by his aunt. Melissa looked back over at him, but he was not watching. The family continued to talk for a while, and soon the Crawfords left the Park for the Parsonage.
"His charmer," remarked Henry with a grin after they had left. He turned to her and scrutinized her face. "Now tell me, dear, if the Boy is the only man you have charmed."
"I dare say I have charmed the entire house! Do not think that you are the only Crawford who possesses that great deal of charm. Even Mr. Yates chose to invite me to his magnificent room."
"I was wondering where you were!" exclaimed Henry with a surprised smile. "I must confess that I rather worried for you when you were gone, but Mr. Yates! You may as well have been with gentle Miss Price."
"Well, my darling brother, you certainly are an accomplished flatterer. First you christen me a wretched beast, and then you tell me that there is no chance of a man's wanting to take advantage of me."
"You misunderstand my meaning," said Henry, slyly. "I was not speaking of all men; most likely, there are men at the Park who would desire to be alone with you above all things, and would even seek you out to achieve their purpose."
"Bad again, Henry! What are you about, accusing other men of being rakes? The Bertrams are much more gentlemanly than you."
"If you mean they are dull, then you are right," affirmed Henry, smiling at her through the darkness as they walked further away from the Park's candlelit windows, "but I do not think that they are as good as you think them to be. The eldest, for instance, has a behavior, an air about him that I cannot abide. He always has to make a point of getting his word in conversations."
Melissa laughed.
"Why, Henry! If Mr. Tom Bertram were not the brother of lovely Maria, I believe you would be jealous of the man! Be reasonable, now; what charm can the artless man have?"
"It passes me," Henry said, with a little pout upon his lips unobserved by Melissa. "Perhaps I should ask you."
Melissa was at first affronted by the remark, and was worried that she might have to explain, so she decided to answer it unembarrassedly to perhaps help some of Henry's waywardness.
"I do not quite know what it is, but Mr. Bertram is very . . . noble. Yes, and I should say that he is caring also; you observe how kindly he invites Miss Price into reassuring conversations? And then he does not seem to think quite so much of himself."
"Ah, so you think my vanity repulsive?" Henry asked with a laugh and hold of her shoulder that was anything but repulsive. "Well, I am glad that you are so charmed by Bertram's manner; you can enjoy his company when we are here, and you will be safely tired of him by the time you marry his brother."
Melissa blushed, and was glad for the darkness.
"I wish I could, but Mr. Bertram is not so flirtatious as you. Speaking of which, you have not thanked me for providing you with the ideal situation for winning Miss Price's affection."
"But indeed, I do thank you," Henry said, bending to kiss her on the cheek. "You have given me something to contemplate tonight before I go to sleep, so that I can wake up in hopes of widening the hole in the dear thing's heart."
"You really are wicked," laughed Melissa. But she was glad of Henry's determination, for if it was not love now, it would soon be.