Edmund Bertram's Diary

I walked over to the instrument and as I did so Miss Crawford began to sing. I was enchanted by her voice which flowed, silvery, into the warm night; and I was enraptured by the sight of her standing with her hands clasped in front of her, showing the delicacy of her white arms and the grace of her carriage. I was so enchanted by the whole that, when it was over, I asked to hear it again.

The evening at last broke up and I walked Miss Crawford’s party back to the rectory. It was only when I returned to the Park that I realized that Fanny and I had not had our stargazing, after all.

Saturday 27 August

Tom has returned and has regaled us all with stories of Brighton and Weymouth, of parties and friends, and all his doings of the last six weeks. I watched Miss Crawford, fearing to see signs of her earlier liking for him returning but, although she listened politely to everything he had to say, she seemed more interested in talking to me. It relieved me more than I can say. Her face, her voice, her carriage, her air, all delight me. Indeed, I find myself thinking that, if I had anything to offer her, I would be in some danger, for she is the most bewitching woman I have ever met.

Monday 29 August

Henry Crawford has returned to his own estate in Norfolk, for he cannot afford to be absent in September when there is so much to be done. My sisters seem listless without him, for they have both greatly enjoyed his company, but Miss Crawford and Fanny are the same as ever and their spirits carry us through.

Tuesday 30 August

Owen wrote to me this morning inviting me to stay with his family again at Christmas. He suggested I make it a longer visit than previously, as we are going to be ordained together, and I have accepted.

SEPTEMBER

Monday 12 September

After a fortnight’s absence, Henry Crawford is with us once more. He made a welcome addition to our party this evening, for I fear we were all tired of hearing Rushworth’s commentary on his day’s sport, his boasts of his dogs, his jealousies of his neighbours and his zeal after poachers. Indeed, he seems to have no other conversation.

Fanny was surprised at Crawford’s return, for he had told us often that he was fond of change and moving about and she had thought he would have gone on to somewhere gayer than Mansfield. But I was pleased he had come back, for I was sure his presence gave his sister pleasure.

‘What a favorite he is with my cousins!’ Fanny remarked.

I agreed that his manners to women were such as must please and I was heartened to find that Mrs. Grant suspected him of a preference for Julia.

‘I have never seen much symptom of it,’ I confessed to Fanny, ‘but I wish it may be so. He has no faults but what a serious attachment would remove, and I think he would make her a good husband.’

Fanny was silent and looked at the floor. After a minute she said cautiously, ‘If Miss Bertram were not engaged, I could sometimes almost think that he admired her more than Julia.’

‘Which is, perhaps, more in favor of his liking Julia best, than you, Fanny, may be aware,’ I told her kindly, for she has seen very little of the world. ‘I believe it often happens that a man, before he has quite made up his own mind, will distinguish the sister or intimate friend of the woman he is real y thinking of more than the woman herself. Crawford has too much sense to stay here if he found himself in any danger from Maria, engaged as she is to Rushworth.’

I found myself wishing Mary Crawford had a friend or unmarried sister here, so that I could distinguish her, for I am afraid of showing Miss Crawford too much attention, and yet I cannot help myself.

I believe I am worrying unnecessarily, though. Even if she suspects a preference on my part, she will not want an offer from a man in my position, and so I need have no fear of raising expectations which I am not in a position to fulfill.

Wednesday 21 September

One of Tom’s friends arrived today. Tom was surprised to see him, for he had issued no more than a casual invitation, but nevertheless he made Yates welcome. Yates’s unexpected arrival was soon explained. He had come from Cornwall where he had been at a house party, but it had been cut short by the sudden death of a relative of those with whom he was staying. He had had no choice but to leave, and remembering Tom’s invitation, he had come to us. He arrived with an air of one whose enjoyment had been curtailed, and on learning we had a violin player in the servants’ hall, he suggested a ball.