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Jane Austen "Mansfield
Park"
Chapter 8
Fanny’s rides recommenced the very next day; and as it was a pleasant
fresh-feeling morning, less hot than the weather had lately been, Edmund
trusted that her losses, both of health and pleasure, would be soon made
good. While she was gone Mr. Rushworth arrived, escorting his mother,
who came to be civil and to shew her civility especially, in urging the
execution of the plan for visiting Sotherton, which had been started a
fortnight before, and which, in consequence of her subsequent absence
from home, had since lain dormant. Mrs. Norris and her nieces were all
well pleased with its revival, and an early day was named and agreed to,
provided Mr. Crawford should be disengaged: the young ladies did not
forget that stipulation, and though Mrs. Norris would willingly have
answered for his being so, they would neither authorise the liberty nor
run the risk; and at last, on a hint from Miss Bertram, Mr. Rushworth
discovered that the properest thing to be done was for him to walk down
to the Parsonage directly, and call on Mr. Crawford, and inquire whether
Wednesday would suit him or not.
Before his return Mrs. Grant and Miss Crawford came in. Having been out
some time, and taken a different route to the house, they had not met
him. Comfortable hopes, however, were given that he would find Mr.
Crawford at home. The Sotherton scheme was mentioned of course. It was
hardly possible, indeed, that anything else should be talked of, for
Mrs. Norris was in high spirits about it; and Mrs. Rushworth, a
well-meaning, civil, prosing, pompous woman, who thought nothing of
consequence, but as it related to her own and her son’s concerns, had
not yet given over pressing Lady Bertram to be of the party. Lady
Bertram constantly declined it; but her placid manner of refusal made
Mrs. Rushworth still think she wished to come, till Mrs. Norris’s more
numerous words and louder tone convinced her of the truth.
“The fatigue would be too much for my sister, a great deal too much, I
assure you, my dear Mrs. Rushworth. Ten miles there, and ten back, you
know. You must excuse my sister on this occasion, and accept of our two
dear girls and myself without her. Sotherton is the only place that
could give her a wish to go so far, but it cannot be, indeed. She will
have a companion in Fanny Price, you know, so it will all do very well;
and as for Edmund, as he is not here to speak for himself, I will answer
for his being most happy to join the party. He can go on horseback, you
know.”
Mrs. Rushworth being obliged to yield to Lady Bertram’s staying at home,
could only be sorry. “The loss of her ladyship’s company would be a
great drawback, and she should have been extremely happy to have seen
the young lady too, Miss Price, who had never been at Sotherton yet, and
it was a pity she should not see the place.”
“You are very kind, you are all kindness, my dear madam,” cried Mrs.
Norris; “but as to Fanny, she will have opportunities in plenty of
seeing Sotherton. She has time enough before her; and her going now is
quite out of the question. Lady Bertram could not possibly spare her.”
“Oh no! I cannot do without Fanny.”
Mrs. Rushworth proceeded next, under the conviction that everybody must
be wanting to see Sotherton, to include Miss Crawford in the invitation;
and though Mrs. Grant, who had not been at the trouble of visiting Mrs.
Rushworth, on her coming into the neighbourhood, civilly declined it on
her own account, she was glad to secure any pleasure for her sister; and
Mary, properly pressed and persuaded, was not long in accepting her
share of the civility. Mr. Rushworth came back from the Parsonage
successful; and Edmund made his appearance just in time to learn what
had been settled for Wednesday, to attend Mrs. Rushworth to her carriage,
and walk half-way down the park with the two other ladies.
On his return to the breakfast-room, he found Mrs. Norris trying to make
up her mind as to whether Miss Crawford’s being of the party were
desirable or not, or whether her brother’s barouche would not be full
without her. The Miss Bertrams laughed at the idea, assuring her that
the barouche would hold four perfectly well, independent of the box, on
which one might go with him.
“But why is it necessary,” said Edmund, “that Crawford’s carriage, or
his only, should be employed? Why is no use to be made of my mother’s
chaise? I could not, when the scheme was first mentioned the other day,
understand why a visit from the family were not to be made in the
carriage of the family.”
“What!” cried Julia: “go boxed up three in a postchaise in this weather,
when we may have seats in a barouche! No, my dear Edmund, that will not
quite do.”
“Besides,” said Maria, “I know that Mr. Crawford depends upon taking us.
After what passed at first, he would claim it as a promise.”
“And, my dear Edmund,” added Mrs. Norris, “taking out two carriages when
one will do, would be trouble for nothing; and, between ourselves,
coachman is not very fond of the roads between this and Sotherton: he
always complains bitterly of the narrow lanes scratching his carriage,
and you know one should not like to have dear Sir Thomas, when he comes
home, find all the varnish scratched off.”
“That would not be a very handsome reason for using Mr. Crawford’s,”
said Maria; “but the truth is, that Wilcox is a stupid old fellow, and
does not know how to drive. I will answer for it that we shall find no
inconvenience from narrow roads on Wednesday.”
“There is no hardship, I suppose, nothing unpleasant,” said Edmund, “in
going on the barouche box.”
“Unpleasant!” cried Maria: “oh dear! I believe it would be generally
thought the favourite seat. There can be no comparison as to one’s view
of the country. Probably Miss Crawford will choose the barouche-box
herself.”
“There can be no objection, then, to Fanny’s going with you; there can
be no doubt of your having room for her.”
“Fanny!” repeated Mrs. Norris; “my dear Edmund, there is no idea of her
going with us. She stays with her aunt. I told Mrs. Rushworth so. She is
not expected.”
“You can have no reason, I imagine, madam,” said he, addressing his
mother, “for wishing Fanny not to be of the party, but as it relates to
yourself, to your own comfort. If you could do without her, you would
not wish to keep her at home?”
“To be sure not, but I cannot do without her.”
“You can, if I stay at home with you, as I mean to do.”
There was a general cry out at this. “Yes,” he continued, “there is no
necessity for my going, and I mean to stay at home. Fanny has a great
desire to see Sotherton. I know she wishes it very much. She has not
often a gratification of the kind, and I am sure, ma’am, you would be
glad to give her the pleasure now?”
“Oh yes! very glad, if your aunt sees no objection.”
Mrs. Norris was very ready with the only objection which could remain—their
having positively assured Mrs. Rushworth that Fanny could not go, and
the very strange appearance there would consequently be in taking her,
which seemed to her a difficulty quite impossible to be got over. It
must have the strangest appearance! It would be something so very
unceremonious, so bordering on disrespect for Mrs. Rushworth, whose own
manners were such a pattern of good-breeding and attention, that she
really did not feel equal to it. Mrs. Norris had no affection for Fanny,
and no wish of procuring her pleasure at any time; but her opposition to
Edmund now, arose more from partiality for her own scheme, because it
was her own, than from anything else. She felt that she had arranged
everything extremely well, and that any alteration must be for the worse.
When Edmund, therefore, told her in reply, as he did when she would give
him the hearing, that she need not distress herself on Mrs. Rushworth’s
account, because he had taken the opportunity, as he walked with her
through the hall, of mentioning Miss Price as one who would probably be
of the party, and had directly received a very sufficient invitation for
his cousin, Mrs. Norris
was too much vexed to submit with a very good grace, and would only say,
“Very well, very well, just as you chuse, settle it your own way, I am
sure I do not care about it.”
“It seems very odd,” said Maria, “that you should be staying at home
instead of Fanny.”
“I am sure she ought to be very much obliged to you,” added Julia,
hastily leaving the room as she spoke, from a consciousness that she
ought to offer to stay at home herself.
“Fanny will feel quite as grateful as the occasion requires,” was
Edmund’s only reply, and the subject dropt.
Fanny’s gratitude, when she heard the plan, was, in fact, much greater
than her pleasure. She felt Edmund’s kindness with all, and more than
all, the sensibility which he, unsuspicious of her fond attachment,
could be aware of; but that he should forego any enjoyment on her
account gave her pain, and her own satisfaction in seeing Sotherton
would be nothing without him.
The next meeting of the two Mansfield families produced another
alteration in the plan, and one that was admitted with general
approbation. Mrs. Grant offered herself as companion for the day to Lady
Bertram in lieu of her son, and Dr. Grant was to join them at dinner.
Lady Bertram was very well pleased to have it so, and the young ladies
were in spirits again. Even Edmund was very thankful for an arrangement
which restored him to his share of the party; and Mrs. Norris thought it
an excellent plan, and had it at her tongue’s end, and was on the point
of proposing it, when Mrs. Grant spoke.
Wednesday was fine, and soon after breakfast the barouche arrived, Mr.
Crawford driving his sisters; and as everybody was ready, there was
nothing to be done but for Mrs. Grant to alight and the others to take
their places. The place of all places, the envied seat, the post of
honour, was unappropriated. To whose happy lot was it to fall? While
each of the Miss Bertrams were meditating how best, and with the most
appearance of obliging the others, to secure it, the matter was settled
by Mrs. Grant’s saying, as she stepped from the carriage, “As there are
five of you, it will be better that one should sit with Henry; and as
you were saying lately that you wished you could drive, Julia, I think
this will be a good opportunity for you to take a lesson.”
Happy Julia! Unhappy Maria! The former was on the barouche-box in a
moment, the latter took her seat within, in gloom and mortification; and
the carriage drove off amid the good wishes of the two remaining ladies,
and the barking of Pug in his mistress’s arms.
Their road was through a pleasant country; and Fanny, whose rides had
never been extensive, was soon beyond her knowledge, and was very happy
in observing all that was new, and admiring all that was pretty. She was
not often invited to join in the conversation of the others, nor did she
desire it. Her own thoughts and reflections were habitually her best
companions; and, in observing the appearance of the country, the
bearings of the roads, the difference of soil, the state of the harvest,
the cottages, the cattle, the children, she found entertainment that
could only have been heightened by having Edmund to speak to of what she
felt. That was the only point of resemblance between her and the lady
who sat by her: in everything but a value for Edmund, Miss Crawford was
very unlike her. She had none of Fanny’s delicacy of taste, of mind, of
feeling; she saw Nature, inanimate Nature, with little observation; her
attention was all for men and women, her talents for the light and
lively. In looking back after Edmund, however, when there was any
stretch of road behind them, or when he gained on them in ascending a
considerable hill, they were united, and a “there he is” broke at the
same moment from them both, more than once.
For the first seven miles Miss Bertram had very little real comfort: her
prospect always ended in Mr. Crawford and her sister sitting side by
side, full of conversation and merriment; and to see only his expressive
profile as he turned with a smile to Julia, or to catch the laugh of the
other, was a perpetual source of irritation, which her own sense of
propriety could but just smooth over. When Julia looked back, it was
with a countenance of delight, and whenever she spoke to them, it was in
the highest spirits: “her view of the country was charming, she wished
they could all see it,” etc.; but her only offer of exchange was
addressed to Miss Crawford, as they gained the summit of a long hill,
and was not more inviting than this: “Here is a fine burst of country. I
wish you had my seat, but I dare say you will not take it, let me press
you ever so much;” and Miss Crawford could hardly answer before they
were moving again at a good pace.
When they came within the influence of Sotherton associations, it was
better for Miss Bertram, who might be said to have two strings to her
bow. She had Rushworth feelings, and Crawford feelings, and in the
vicinity of Sotherton the former had considerable effect. Mr.
Rushworth’s consequence was hers. She could not tell Miss Crawford that
“those woods belonged to Sotherton,” she could not carelessly observe
that “she believed that it was now all Mr. Rushworth’s property on each
side of the road,” without elation of heart; and it was a pleasure to
increase with their approach to the capital freehold mansion, and
ancient manorial residence of the family, with all its rights of
court-leet and court-baron.
“Now we shall have no more rough road, Miss Crawford; our difficulties
are over. The rest of the way is such as it ought to be. Mr. Rushworth
has made it since he succeeded to the estate. Here begins the village.
Those cottages are really a disgrace. The church spire is reckoned
remarkably handsome. I am glad the church is not so close to the great
house as often happens in old places. The annoyance of the bells must be
terrible. There is the parsonage: a tidy-looking house, and I understand
the clergyman and his wife are very decent people. Those are almshouses,
built by some of the family. To the right is the steward’s house; he is
a very respectable man. Now we are coming to the lodge-gates; but we
have nearly a mile through the park still. It is not ugly, you see, at
this end; there is some fine timber, but the situation of the house is
dreadful. We go down hill to it for half a mile, and it is a pity, for
it would not be an ill-looking place if it had a better approach.”
Miss Crawford was not slow to admire; she pretty well guessed Miss
Bertram’s feelings, and made it a point of honour to promote her
enjoyment to the utmost. Mrs. Norris was all delight and volubility; and
even Fanny had something to say in admiration, and might be heard with
complacency. Her eye was eagerly taking in everything within her reach;
and after being at some pains to get a view of the house, and observing
that “it was a sort of building which she could not look at but with
respect,” she added, “Now, where is the avenue? The house fronts the
east, I perceive. The avenue, therefore, must be at the back of it. Mr.
Rushworth talked of the west front.”
“Yes, it is exactly behind the house; begins at a little distance, and
ascends for half a mile to the extremity of the grounds. You may see
something of it here— something of the more distant trees. It is oak
entirely.”
Miss Bertram could now speak with decided information of what she had
known nothing about when Mr. Rushworth had asked her opinion; and her
spirits were in as happy a flutter as vanity and pride could furnish,
when they drove up to the spacious stone steps before the principal
entrance.
