I thought it only too likely.
‘And tomorrow you are leaving, too,’ I said to her.
‘Yes, I am. You will not begrudge me a stay in town? Mrs. Fraser has been my intimate friend for years.’
‘I could never begrudge you anything. I have already been more fortunate than I dared hope, for you were still here when I returned after Christmas when I was expecting to find you gone.’
‘I should have gone, by rights, but when it came to it I found I could not leave the neighborhood whilst Henry was trying to fix Fanny. It would not have been fair to take him away at such a time.’
But something in her eye and voice told me that that was not her only reason for delaying her departure.
‘I thought I would not see you again.’
‘Did you?’ she asked with a smile.
‘I did. I thought you were lost to me. But now I hope we may meet often. I will be going to town myself before long. will I see you there?’
‘I rely upon it. You must come and visit me at Mrs. Fraser’s.’
‘You may be certain of it.’
There was time for no more. The evening was drawing to an end. Crawford was taking his leave of Fanny, who seemed sorry to see him go, and I took Mary’s hand and bent over it.
‘Until then,’ I said.
Tuesday 17 January
‘Well, Edmund,’ said my father, as we sat over the port, ‘and do you think Fanny misses Crawford now that he has gone?’
‘I hardly think three or four days’ absence enough to produce such a feeling.’
‘And yet she has been used to attention, to being singled out in the most flattering way. It is strange that she should not miss it. The attentions of her aunts can hardly compensate for the company of an intelligent young man.’
What puzzled me more was that Fanny did not seem to regret Miss Crawford, for Mary had been her friend and companion for far longer than Crawford had been her acknowledged lover.
‘I will be going to town in less than a fortnight,’ I said to Fanny, when my father and I rejoined the ladies. ‘Do you have any commissions for me?’
‘I cannot think of anything at the moment.’
‘You must let me know if any occur to you. And if you have any letters for Miss Crawford I can take them to her.’
‘You will be visiting her?’ she enquired.
‘Yes, indeed. I am looking forward to it. I am persuaded that she, too, is looking forward to it. She will be able to hear about you, and everyone at Mansfield.’
Fanny said nothing.
‘You are very quiet, Fanny. Have you nothing to say of your friend? I thought you would be constantly talking of her. It cannot be pleasant for you to be all alone again.’
‘I have my aunts, and—’
‘And?’
‘And... that is enough.’
My mother calling to me, I could say no more, but as Mama was happy to talk of Mary, I was well satisfied with my evening, and could only have enjoyed it more if Fanny had confessed to missing Crawford as much as I missed his sister.
Wednesday 18 January
I spoke to Ingles about the field and although he said he did not want to sell, and could not let it go below an exorbitant price, I believe he was only bargaining and will let me have it in the end.
Monday 23 January
Fanny’s indifference to Crawford’s and Mary’s absence has been made clear: she is too excited at William’s visit to have room in her mind and heart for anything else. He is to join us on Friday, and I hope that seeing him, newly promoted, will make Fanny think more kindly of Crawford, whose good offices brought the promotion about.
Friday 27 January
William arrived, looking bright and handsome, and was full of his new honor. He lamented the fact that he could not show his uniform to us, but he described it in enough detail to please even Fanny. I wished she could see it, but I fear that, by the time she does, it will no longer be a source of such joy to William. A lieutenant’s rank will satisfy him for now, but before long he will want further promotion; his uniform will seem like a badge of disgrace when all his friends have been made commanders. I only hope that by then, Fanny will be safely married to Crawford, and that the Admiral will be disposed to help William again. That would be a happy occasion indeed, if we could see William in a captain’s uniform. I said as much to Fanny, and she smiled, and said she was sure his merits would lift him to the highest rank. It transpired that Fanny will settle for nothing less than seeing him an admiral!
Saturday 28 January
Crawford left a horse for William to ride and we went out together this morning. We had not gone far before he had a fall. Having ridden mules, donkeys and scrawny horses he was not adept at handling a highly bred animal, and came to grief whilst jumping a fence. The horse was none the worse, which was a mercy, or Crawford would have paid a heavy price for his kindness. William was unhurt, but he bruised his side and his coat was covered in mud.
‘Say nothing of this to Fanny,’ he begged me. ‘She worries about me; though if she could see the scrapes I have survived she would know I could survive anything! On my first ship I was swept overboard and was only able to climb back again by grabbling hold of a piece of torn sail that had washed overboard with me. By luck it was still attached to the rest of the sail, and I used it as a rope to haul myself in.’
The stories became more gruesome; far worse than the ones he had told in the drawing-room; and I was glad he had spared Fanny the details of his hardships and deprivations, and the rigors of Navy life. I admired him all the more for being so considerate, as well as for being a brave man.
‘We can go to Thornton Lacey,’ I said. ‘You can wash there and brush your coat when the mud has dried. I can lend you a shirt,’ I added, noticing his own was ripped, for luckily I had begun to move some of my things over to the rectory.
We were soon there and I took him into the kitchen so that he could wash. As he stripped off his shirt I saw there were a number of scars on his back and arms and he told me about each one; how a Frenchman had got in a lucky thrust as he boarded a foreign vessel; how he had been outnumbered and had had to fight his way out of a corner with his sword in his left hand; how he had been down, with a sword at his throat, when his friend had run his adversary through, and he had taken a cut when his adversary fell. And tales of a better sort: the deep scar on his right arm had come from his standing between his captain and injury; and the scar on his shoulder was from protecting the cabin boy, a young lad on his first voyage, who, because of William’s prompt action, had survived to make a second one.
I gave him a clean shirt and once the mud had dried he was able to brush it from his coat before we returned to the Park. We found Fanny in the drawing-room, sketching.
‘I am glad to see you have taken Mary’s advice,’ I said, when I saw the fruit of her labors; explaining to William, ‘Fanny’s friend, Miss Crawford, advised her to have a picture of you to keep by her when you are away.’
‘Now that I have my promotion, it is perhaps worth having, ’ he acknowledged.
‘It was always worth having, to me,’ said Fanny.
‘You should draw a likeness of Edmund,’ said William. ‘Your sketching is really very good. Is it not?’ he asked me.
‘Yes, excellent. well, Fanny? will you draw me?’
‘If you will still for as long as it takes, and not be off on parish business.’
‘I believe it can spare me for the rest of the day.’
William stood by Fanny’s shoulder as she drew, saying, ‘A little more length here,’ or ‘a little more shading there,’ until it was done.
‘Very creditable,’ I said. ‘I will have it framed, I believe, the next time I go into town.’