Edmund Bertram's Diary

I could not help thinking about the matter further, though, when Miss Crawford left us. Fanny is eighteen, and my sisters were both attending ball s by that age, schooled in what was expected of them by Mama and my aunt. But for some reason Fanny had been overlooked. I raised the point with my aunt, who said only that she was sure Fanny had no notion of being brought out, and Mama, who said that Fanny was too young, for she was not strong and so it was unsuitable for her to be brought out as early as my sisters.

‘Besides,’ she said, ‘I need Fanny to stay with me when you all go to a ball. I could not do without Fanny.’

I think, for the time being, I will say no more, but I will not have her neglected, and once my father returns I mean to broach the subject with him. Fanny must have her share of the pleasures as well as everyone else, and as Mama will no longer be lonely when Papa returns it will then be the time for Fanny to start going into society.

Monday 18 July

Tom left for Brighton this morning. He went early, saying to me, ‘Never fear, I have promised Papa not to gamble, and I mean to keep my word. I am a reformed character!’

I gave him a look, but he only laughed, and then he was on his way. He showed no regret at leaving Miss Crawford, and as he had never once talked of abandoning his trip so that he might spend more time with her, I believe he is not serious in his feelings for her.

To my relief, Miss Crawford does not seem to be serious in her feelings for him, either. I thought she would be in low spirits at his departure, but when she and her brother cal ed on us this afternoon she was ‘bright as the day, and like the morning, fair’.

‘And are you missing your brother?’ Miss Crawford asked Julia, as we walked out in the grounds.

‘Not in the least,’ said Julia.

‘And you, Mr. Bertram?’ she asked me. ‘How well that sounds,’ she mused, ‘for now that your brother is away, you are no longer Mr. Edmund Bertram, but Mr. Bertram. will you miss your brother?’

‘I will not have time, for he will be home again in a few weeks,’ I said.

‘Very true. I should not miss my brother if he were to go away, as he talks of doing, to look after his estate, but perhaps others here would.’

Maria said politely that of course he must be missed if he went, whereupon Crawford said that his going was by no means certain, and that as he had only himself to please, and as Mrs. Grant pressed him to stay, he believed his estate could do without him a little longer. I was pleased for Miss Crawford’s sake. She and her brother are close, and I know she enjoys his company, for all her teasing: small wonder, when she has neither mother nor father, and only a half sister in Mrs. Grant.

We soon parted company, too soon for my liking, but we are to meet again tomorrow. Miss Crawford’s person and appearance grow on me daily and I find myself thinking that any day in which I do not see her is a day ill spent.

Thursday 21 July

We were joined for dinner by Rushworth, for he had returned from visiting his friend. Maria seemed pleased to see him and introduced him proudly, which did much to allay my fears about her feelings for him, and Rushworth seemed very pleased to be with us. Before long he began talking about the improvements his friend was making to his estate.

‘I mean to improve my own place in the same way,’ he said as we went into dinner. ‘Smith’s place is the admiration of all the country; and it was a mere nothing before Repton took it in hand. I think I shall have Repton.’

‘If I were you, I would have a very pretty shrubbery. One likes to get out into a shrubbery in fine weather,’ said Mama.

‘Smith has not much above a hundred acres altogether in his grounds, which is little enough, and makes it more surprising that the place can have been so improved. Now, at Sotherton we have a good seven hundred, without reckoning the water meadows; so that I think, if so much could be done at Compton, we need not despair.’

I saw Miss Crawford glance at Maria, and Maria looked pleased at this talk of her future home.

‘There have been two or three fine old trees cut down, that grew too near the house,’ went on Rushworth, ‘and it opens the prospect amazingly, which makes me think that Repton, or anybody of that sort, would certainly have the avenue at Sotherton down: the avenue that leads from the west front to the top of the hill, you know,’ he said. Fanny and I exchanged startled glances.

‘Cut down an avenue!’ said Fanny to me in an aside. ‘What a pity! Does it not make you think of Cowper? Ye fall en avenues, once more I mourn your fate unmerited.’

‘I am afraid the avenue stands a bad chance, Fanny,’ I said.