‘Sir Thomas’s permission must first be sought,’ said Mama, rousing herself a little as she lay on the chaise longue.
‘He will be very pleased, mark my words. What, to find his daughter affianced to such a man as Mr. Rushworth? To be sure, he will be delighted. A spring wedding would be very fine,’ said my aunt. ‘Dr Grant must perform the ceremony, for I am sure he does little enough since he bought the Mansfield living. And if you have an early wedding, you will be able to go to London for the Season, Maria. With such a fine house in town, it would be a pity not to make use of it this year.’
Maria was soon making plans with my aunt, and saying that she would invite Julia to spend the Season with her, so that she, too, could find a husband.
‘You must invite Fanny,’ I said. ‘She would enjoy the theatres and the galleries. Would you not, Fanny?’
‘I am sure it is more than she looks for,’ said my aunt ungraciously, before Fanny had time to reply. ‘There is no need to invite her.’
‘I have no objection to it,’ said Maria. ‘Fanny will be very welcome, only she is too young this year. But next year, Fanny, you must come and stay. You will be eighteen then, and of an age to enjoy everything.’
Fanny was all gratitude, and I liked to think of her having her share of the pleasure.
‘And Tom, you must visit your sister, too,’ said my aunt. ‘I am sure she will find you an heiress, someone with twenty or thirty thousand pounds, and a beauty besides.’
Tom laughed, and said he had no intention of marrying for at least another twenty years, whereupon my aunt remarked that it must be up to me, then, to make an advantageous marriage.
As the conversation continued I could not help but be grateful that it was not up to me to give or withhold my consent to Maria’s marriage. I have little liking for Rushworth. Indeed, if he did not have twelve thousand a year I would think him a very stupid fellow.
‘Maria,’ I said to her, calling her aside this evening. ‘Are you sure you wish to marry Rushworth?
Just because he has asked for your hand, does not mean you have to give it, you know. I am not happy about the match, I must confess. Rushworth seems to be a very dull fellow. Are you sure you have not been blinded to his faults by his fortune and his house in town? They are very desirable, I am sure, but is marriage to Rushworth a price worth paying for them? Do anything rather than marry without love, for that way great unhappiness lies.’
‘Oh, Edmund, you do prose on. Of course I love him.’
‘But you have seen very little of him, except at balls.’
‘I have seen quite enough of him, I assure you.’
I was not convinced I liked this answer, and told her so.
‘I want you to be happy,’ I said.
‘And I will be.’
‘If I could be sure—’
‘You must own me to be the best judge of my happiness,’ she said impatiently, ‘and I tell you I will be.’
With this I had to be content.
‘Very well. Then I will write to Papa tomorrow,’ I told her, but I did so with a heavy heart. It lightened somewhat when I talked the matter over with Fanny, for, as she reminded me, my father will no doubt say the marriage cannot take place without him. And that when he returns, he will be able to decide whether Maria is truly attached to Mr. Rushworth or not.
JULY
Friday 1 July
I wrote to my father this morning and I was just sending the letter when my aunt entered the drawing-room. She had visited the Grants to give them a hint of Maria’s nuptials and had returned from the Parsonage with some news.
‘One wedding brings on another. It seems you will not have to go to London in search of an heiress after all,’ she said portentously to Tom. ‘We are to have an addition to the neighborhood, or rather, two additions. Mrs. Grant’s brother and sister — her mother’s children by a second marriage — will soon be joining her. It is a sad tale. Their parents died some time ago, whereupon they went to live with an aunt and uncle, but now their aunt has died, too, and as their uncle proposes to move his mistress into the house, they do not feel they can stay with him any longer, and so they are to come here.’
‘Shocking,’ said Mama placidly, as she played with Pug. ‘I am sure Sir Thomas would never approve of such a thing.’
‘But although it may be unfortunate for Mr. and Miss Crawford, it is likely to be a good thing for us,’ said my aunt. ‘Miss Crawford is a considerable heiress, with twenty thousand pounds, and Mrs. Grant assures me she is as elegant as she is accomplished, being a beauty besides.’
‘How is that good for us?’ Tom teased my aunt.
‘Why, because you can marry her,’ she replied.
Tom was still laughing at the notion as we went out for a ride this afternoon.
‘I think you should marry Miss Crawford,’ he said to me,
‘in fact I have a mind to promote the match. I promised Papa that I would make it up to you for losing you the Mansfield living; and as the new incumbent, Dr Grant, is refusing to die of an apoplexy as I hoped he would, so that the living would revert to you, then a good marriage is the quickest way to ensure your prosperity.’
I begged him to be serious but he said that he was.
‘She is just the wife for you. Her fortune will allow you to enlarge the rectory at Thornton Lacey and keep a carriage.’
‘If she is to be rich and beautiful I am surprised you do not want to marry her yourself,’ I said.
‘God forbid! The last thing I want is a wife.’
But I find myself hoping he might take a liking to her, for a wife would be the very thing to steady him, and perhaps marriage would make him take a pride in his inheritance and give him a desire to work to preserve it.
Monday 11 July
I scarcely know what I am writing, for I have had such a jolt to my feelings that I am quite dazed. I returned from estate business this afternoon to find a beautiful young woman in the drawing room. I caught a glimpse of her profile first and felt my pulse quicken, and when she turned her face towards mine, the hope flashed through my mind that Tom would not care for her after all, for she was the most charming young woman I had ever seen. She had bright, dark eyes and dark hair, with a clear brown complexion and a smiling mouth, whilst her figure was small and dainty. She was a complete contrast to Maria and Julia, whose tall fairness, as they sat next to her, set off her dark loveliness like two willowy reeds setting off a forest pool. But as I took my seat I found that Tom seemed to have abandoned his intention of remaining a bachelor, for he was at his liveliest. He was entertaining Miss Crawford with tales of his trip to Antigua and she was smiling and laughing. She seemed delighted with him. And how could she not be? For when Tom puts himself out to please, he never fails. And were he not half so amusing, his position as a baronet’s heir, with the added advantages of person and conversation, could hardly fail to please any young woman.
Tom at last turned his attention to Mr. Crawford, who happened to mention his horse, and the two of them began a lengthy conversation about the merits of their hunters. Miss Crawford turned her attention to me and to my surprise I found myself tongue-tied, but luckily her conversation was lively enough for two.
When I had command of myself once more I asked her about her journey into Northamptonshire and she answered me civilly, making the commonplace remarks about the roads and the carriage seem interesting and amusing. I was about to ask her what she thought of Mansfield when Tom caught her attention and she was soon laughing with him again. I ought to be pleased that he has taken a liking to her, and she to him, but instead I find myself hoping that Tom will soon grow tired of her, and that I might see a great deal more of her in the coming weeks.