Mansfield Park (Barnes & Noble Classics Series) (34 page)

‘And you know what your dinner will be,’ said Mrs. Grant, smiling—‘the turkey—and I assure you a very fine one; for, my dear,’ turning to her husband, ‘cook insists upon the turkey’s being dressed to-morrow.’

‘Very well, very well,’ cried Dr. Grant, ‘all the better; I am glad to hear you have anything so good in the house. But Miss Price and Mr. Edmund Bertram, I dare say, would take their chance. We none of us want to hear the bill of fare. A friendly meeting, and not a fine dinner, is all we have in view. A turkey or a goose, or a leg of mutton, or whatever you and your cook choose to give us.’

The two cousins walked home together; and, except in the immediate discussion of this engagement, which Edmund spoke of with the warmest satisfaction, as so particularly desirable for her in the intimacy which he saw with so much pleasure established, it was a silent walk; for, having finished that subject, he grew thoughtful and indisposed for any other.

B
ut why should Mrs. Grant ask Fanny?’ said Lady Bertram. ‘How came she to think of asking Fanny?—Fanny never dines there, you know, in this sort of way. I cannot spare her, and I am sure she does not want to go. Fanny, you do not want to go, do you?’

‘If you put such a question to her,’ cried Edmund, preventing his cousin’s speaking, ‘Fanny will immediately say No; but I am sure, my dear mother, she would like to go; and I can see no reason why she should not.’

‘I cannot imagine why Mrs. Grant should think of asking her. She never did before. She used to ask your sisters now and then, but she never asked Fanny.’

‘If you cannot do without me, ma’am——nny, in a self-denying tone.

‘But my mother will have my father with her all the evening.’

‘To be sure, so I shall.’

‘Suppose you take my father’s opinion, ma’am.’

‘That’s well thought of. So I will, Edmund. I will ask Sir Thomas as soon as he comes in, whether I can do without her.’

‘As you please, ma’am, on that head; but I meant my father’s opinion as to the
propriety
of the invitation’s being accepted or not; and I think he will consider it a right thing by Mrs. Grant, as well as by Fanny, that being the first invitation it should be accepted.’

‘I do not know. We will ask him. But he will be very much surprised that Mrs. Grant should ask Fanny at all.’

There was nothing more to be said, or that could be said to any purpose, till Sir Thomas were present; but the subject, involving as it did her own evening’s comfort for the morrow, was so much uppermost in Lady Bertram’s mind, that half an hour afterwards on his looking in for a minute in his way from his plantation to his dressing-room, she called him back again, when he had almost closed the door, with, ‘Sir Thomas, stop a moment—I have something to say to you.’

Her tone of calm languor, for she never took the trouble of raising her voice, was always heard and attended to; and Sir Thomas came back. Her story began; and Fanny immediately slipped out of the room; for to hear herself the subject of any discussion with her uncle was more than her nerves could bear. She was anxious, she knew—more anxious perhaps than she ought to be—for what was it after all whether she went or stayed?—but if her uncle were to be a great while considering and deciding, and with very grave looks, and those grave looks directed to her, and at last decide against her, she might not be able to appear properly submissive and indifferent. Her cause, meanwhile, went on well. It began, on Lady Bertram’s part, with-‘I have something to tell you that will surprise you. Mrs. Grant has asked Fanny to dinner.’

‘Well?’ said Sir Thomas, as if waiting more to accomplish the surprise.

‘Edmund wants her to go. But how can I spare her?’

‘She will be late,’ said Sir Thomas, taking out his watch; ‘but what is your difficulty?’

Edmund found himself obliged to speak and fill up the blanks in his mother’s story. He told the whole; and she had only to add, ‘So strange! for Mrs. Grant never used to ask her.’

‘But is not it very natural,’ observed Edmund, ‘that Mrs. Grant should wish to procure so agreeable a visitor for her sister ?’

‘Nothing can be more natural,’ said Sir Thomas, after a short deliberation; ‘nor, were there no sister in the case, could anything, in my opinion, be more natural. Mrs. Grant’s showing civility to Miss Price, to Lady Bertram’s niece, could never want explanation. The only surprise I can feel is, that this should be the first time of its being paid. Fanny was perfectly right in giving only a conditional answer. She appears to feel as she ought. But as I conclude that she must wish to go, since all young people like to be together, I can see no reason why she should be denied the indulgence.’

‘But can I do without her, Sir Thomas?’

‘Indeed I think you may.’

‘She always makes tea, you know, when my sister is not here.’

‘Your sister, perhaps, may be prevailed on to spend the day with us, and I shall certainly be at home.’

‘Very well, then, Fanny may go, Edmund.’

The good news soon followed her. Edmund knocked at her door in his way to his own.

‘Well, Fanny, it is all happily settled, and without the smallest hesitation on your uncle’s side. He had but one opinion. You are to go.’

‘Thank you, I am
so
glad,’ was Fanny’s instinctive reply; though when she had turned from him and shut the door, she could not help feeling, ‘And yet, why should I be glad? for am I not certain of seeing or hearing something there to pain me?’

In spite of this conviction, however, she was glad. Simple as such an engagement might appear in other eyes, it had novelty and importance in hers, for excepting the day at Sotherton, she had scarcely ever dined out before; and though now going only half a mile and only to three people, still it was dining out, and all the little interests of preparation were enjoyments in themselves. She had neither sympathy nor assistance from those who ought to have entered into her feelings and directed her taste; for Lady Bertram never thought of being useful to anybody, and Mrs. Norris, when she came on the morrow, in consequence of an early call and invitation from Sir Thomas, was in a very ill-humour, and seemed intent only on lessening her niece’s pleasure, both present and future, as much as possible.

‘Upon my word, Fanny, you are in high luck to meet with such attention and indulgence! You ought to be very much obliged to Mrs. Grant for thinking of you, and to your aunt for letting you go, and you ought to look upon it as something extraordinary : for I hope you are aware that there is no real occasion for your going into company in this sort of way, or ever dining out at all; and it is what you must not depend upon ever being repeated. Nor must you be fancying that the invitation is meant as any particular compliment to you; the compliment is intended to your uncle and aunt and me. Mrs. Grant thinks it a civility due to us to take a little notice of you, or else it would never have come into her head, and you may be very certain that if your cousin Julia had been at home you would not have been asked at all.’

Mrs. Norris had now so ingeniously done away all Mrs. Grant’s part of the favour, that Fanny, who found herself expected to speak, could only say that she was very much obliged to her aunt Bertram for sparing her, and that she was endeavouring to put her aunt’s evening work in such a state as to prevent her being missed.

‘Oh, depend upon it, your aunt can do very well without you, or you would not be allowed to go.
I
shall be here, so you may be quite easy about your aunt. And I hope you will have a very
agreeable
day, and find it all mighty
delightful.
But I must observe, that five is the very awkwardest of all possible numbers to sit down to table; and I cannot but be surprised that such an
elegant
lady as Mrs. Grant should not contrive better! And round their enormous great wide table, too, which fills up the room so dreadfully! Had the Doctor been contented to take my dining-table when I came away, as anybody in their senses would have done, instead of having that absurd new one of his own, which is wider, literally wider than the dinner-table here—how infinitely better it would have been! and how much more he would have been respected! for people are never respected when they step out of their proper sphere. Remember that, Fanny. Five, only five, to be sitting round that table! However, you will have dinner enough on it for ten, I daresay.’

Mrs. Norris fetched breath and went on again.

‘The nonsense and folly of people’s stepping out of their rank and trying to appear above themselves makes me think it right to give
you
a hint, Fanny, now that you are going into company without any of us; and I do beseech and entreat you not to be putting yourself forward, and talking and giving your opinion as if you were one of your cousins—as if you were dear Mrs. Rushworth or Julia.
That
will never do, believe me. Remember, wherever you are, you must be the lowest and last; and though Miss Crawford is in a manner at home at the Parsonage, you are not to be taking place of her. And as to coming away at night, you are to stay just as long as Edmund chooses. Leave him to settle
that.’

‘Yes, ma’am, I should not think of anything else.’

‘And if it should rain,—which I think exceedingly likely, for I never saw it more threatening for a wet evening in my life,—you must manage as well as you can, and not be expecting the carriage to be sent for you. I certainly do not go home to-night, and, therefore, the carriage will not be out on my account; so you must make up your mind to what may happen, and take your things accordingly.’

Her niece thought it perfectly reasonable. She rated her own claims to comfort as low even as Mrs. Norris could; and when Sir Thomas soon afterwards, just opening the door, said, ‘Fanny, at what time would you have the carriage come round?’ she felt a degree of astonishment which made it impossible for her to speak.

‘My dear Sir Thomas!’ cried Mrs. Norris, red with anger, ‘Fanny can walk.’

‘Walk!’ repeated Sir Thomas, in a tone of most unanswerable dignity, and coming further into the room. ‘My niece walk to a dinner engagement at this time of the year! Will twenty minutes after four suit you?’

‘Yes, sir,’ was Fanny’s humble answer, given with the feelings almost of a criminal towards Mrs. Norris; and not bearing to remain with her in what might seem a state of triumph, she followed her uncle out of the room, having stayed behind him only long enough to hear these words spoken in angry agitation—

‘Quite unnecessary!—a great deal too kind! But Edmund goes;—true—it is upon Edmund’s account. I observed he was hoarse on Thursday night.’

But this could not impose on Fanny. She felt that the carriage was for herself and herself alone; and her uncle’s consideration of her, coming immediately after such representations from her aunt, cost her some tears of gratitude when she was alone.

The coachman drove round to a minute; another minute brought down the gentleman; and as the lady had, with a most scrupulous fear of being late, been many minutes seated in the drawing-room, Sir Thomas saw them off in as good time as his own correctly punctual habits required.

‘Now I must look at you, Fanny,’ said Edmund, with the kind smile of an affectionate brother, ‘and tell you how I like you; and as well as I can judge by this light, you look very nicely indeed. What have you got on?’

‘The new dress that my uncle was so good as to give me on my cousin’s marriage. I hope it is not too fine; but I thought I ought to wear it as soon as I could, and that I might not have such another opportunity all the winter. I hope you do not think me too fine.’

‘A woman can never be too fine while she is all in white. No, I see no finery about you; nothing but what is perfectly proper. Your gown seems very pretty. I like these glossy spots. Has not Miss Crawford a gown something the same?’

In approaching the Parsonage they passed close by the stable-yard and coach-house.

‘Heyday!’ said Edmund, ‘here’s company, here’s a carriage! who have they got to meet us?’ And letting down the side-glass to distinguish, “Tis Crawford‘s, Crawford’s barouche, I protest! There are his own two men pushing it back into its old quarters. He is here, of course. This is quite a surprise, Fanny. I shall be very glad to see him.’

There was no occasion, there was no time, for Fanny to say how very differently she felt; but the idea of having such another to observe her was a great increase of the trepidation with which she performed the very awful ceremony of walking into the drawing-room.

In the drawing-room Mr. Crawford certainly was; having been just long enough arrived to be ready for dinner; and the smiles and pleased looks of the three others standing round him showed how welcome was his sudden resolution of coming to them for a few days on leaving Bath. A very cordial meeting passed between him and Edmund; and, with the exception of Fanny, the pleasure was general; and even to her there might be some advantage in his presence, since every addition to the party must rather forward her favourite indulgence of being suffered to sit silent and unattended to. She was soon aware of this herself; for though she must submit, as her own propriety of mind directed, in spite of her aunt Norris’s opinion, to being the principal lady in company, and to all the little distinctions consequent thereon, she found, while they were at table, such a happy flow of conversation prevailing in which she was not required to take any part—there was so much to be said between the brother and sister about Bath, so much between the two young men about hunting, so much of politics between Mr. Crawford and Dr. Grant, and of everything and all together between Mr. Crawford and Mrs. Grant, as to leave her the fairest prospect of having only to listen in quiet, and of passing a very agreeable day. She could not compliment the newly-arrived gentleman, however, with any appearance of interest in a scheme for extending his stay at Mansfield, and sending for his hunters from Norfolk, which, suggested by Dr. Grant, advised by Edmund, and warmly urged by the two sisters, was soon in possession of his mind, and which he seemed to want to be encouraged even by her to resolve on. Her opinion was sought as to the probable continuance of the open weather, but her answers were as short and indifferent as civility allowed. She could not wish him to stay, and would much rather not have him speak to her.