Edmund Bertram's Diary

‘Indeed, I am fond of Gothic romances — particularly on long winter evenings when there is nothing better to do. Henry read it to me last year. And to be sure, this chapel needs a current of air foretelling woe, for it is very dull.’

Mrs. Rushworth, ahead with the others, was explaining that, although the house had its own chapel, it was no longer used for family prayers.

‘Every generation has its improvements,’ said Miss Crawford in a droll voice. And, just as I felt I was getting to know her, I realized I did not know her at all. I was dismayed by her attitude, for I have always felt there was something fine about a family assembling for prayers, all together, turning their thoughts into the same path before they separate for the day.

Fanny voiced my thoughts, but Miss Crawford was not to be persuaded, saying satirical y, ‘Very fine indeed! It must do the heads of the family a great deal of good to force all the poor housemaids and footmen to leave business and pleasure, and say their prayers here twice a day, while they are inventing excuses themselves for staying away.’

‘That is hardly Fanny’s idea of a family assembling,’ I told her. But she would not be serious, saying, ‘Cannot you imagine with what unwilling feelings the former belles of the house of Rushworth did many a time repair to this chapel? The young Mrs. Eleanors and Mrs. Bridgets — starched up into seeming piety, but with heads full of something very different — especial y if the poor chaplain were not worth looking at — and, in those days, I fancy parsons were very inferior even to what they are now.’

Fanny colored, for she felt all the unluckiness of this remark as it reflected on my chosen profession. But although I was dismayed at Miss Crawford’s attitude, I took heart from the fact that she was surely capable of thinking seriously on serious subjects if only she was given encouragement to do so. She could not have reached womanhood without realizing that not everything in life could be turned into a jest.

I was hoping to discuss it with her, but barely had we begun when Julia distracted our attention by saying, ‘Do look at Mr. Rushworth and Maria, standing side by side, exactly as if the ceremony were going to be performed. Have not they completely the air of it? Upon my word, it is real y a pity that it should not take place directly, if we had but a proper license, for here we are altogether, and nothing in the world could be more snug and pleasant.’

‘It will be a most happy event to me, whenever it takes place,’ said Mrs. Rushworth.

‘My dear Edmund, if you were but in orders now, you might perform the ceremony directly. How unlucky that you are not yet ordained. Mr. Rushworth and Maria are quite ready.’

Miss Crawford looked stunned.

‘Ordained!’ she said, turning to me and looking aghast. ‘What, are you to be a clergyman?’

‘Yes, I shall take orders soon after my father’s return — probably at Christmas,’ I told her. She regained her color quickly, saying, ‘If I had known this before, I would have spoken of the cloth with more respect.’

I smiled, for it showed that, as I suspected, she had a good heart, and had simply been carried away by playfulness. As we left the chapel I walked beside her to show I was not offended by her unfortunate remarks.

We soon afterwards came to a door leading outside. We took it, and found ourselves amidst lawns and shrubs, where pheasants roamed at will. There was also a bowling-green and a long terrace walk, backed by iron palisades, beyond which lay a wilderness. Crawford spotted the capabilities of the area and was soon deep in conversation with Maria and Rushworth, whilst Fanny, Miss Crawford and I went on. The day was hot and after a walk along the terrace, Miss Crawford expressed a wish to go into the wilderness, where we would be cool beneath the trees. We went in, going down a long flight of steps, and found ourselves in darkness and shade.

‘This is better,’ said Miss Crawford. ‘Give me a wilderness and I am happy, rather than a straight path which is hard beneath the feet. Here is nature untrammeled, not bent into shapes which do not suit her, but allowed to roam free. It is a much happier place. Do you not think so, Mr. Bertram?’

‘For my own part I prefer a path, but the wilderness has a certain allure,’ I conceded.

‘There is too much regularity in the planting, but otherwise a pretty wilderness, very pretty indeed,’ said Miss Crawford.

‘Too much regularity! Not at all,’ said Fanny. ‘Nature must have some order, or we would lose our way.’

Miss Crawford was soon speaking again of my plans to become a clergyman.

‘Why should it surprise you?’ I asked her. ‘You must suppose me designed for some profession, and might perceive that I am neither a lawyer, nor a soldier, nor a sailor.’

‘Very true; but, in short, it had not occurred to me. And you know there is general y an uncle or a grandfather to leave a fortune to the second son.’

‘A very praiseworthy practice, but not quite universal!’