Edmund Bertram's Diary

‘I must real y congratulate your ladyship,’ said she, ‘on the play being chosen; for though you have borne it with exemplary patience, I am sure you must be sick of all our noise and difficulties. The actors may be glad, but the bystanders must be infinitely more thankful for a decision; and I do sincerely give you joy, madam, as well as Mrs. Norris, and everybody else who is in the same predicament,’ she said, glancing towards Fanny and me.

‘I am glad it is settled on at last,’ said Mama.

Miss Crawford joined the others, but I could tel she had no real taste for the endeavor, and who could blame her, being asked to play the part of such a pert, forward young woman as Amelia?

I could tel there was something on her mind and at last it came out when she asked, ‘Who is to play Anhalt?’

‘I should be but too happy in taking the part, if it were possible,’ cried Tom; ‘but, unluckily, the Butler and Anhalt are in together. I will not entirely give it up, however; I will try what can be done — I will look it over again.’

Yates suggested I do it, but I could not in all conscience take the part, for that would be to condone the fol y. My father left his daughters and his estate in my care, and I have no intention of handing them back to him ruined when he returns in two months’ time. Miss Crawford soon left the others and joined Fanny and me.

‘They do not want me at all,’ said she, seating herself. ‘Mr. Edmund Bertram, as you do not act yourself, you will be a disinterested adviser; and, therefore, I apply to you. What shall we do for an Anhalt? Is it practicable for any of the others to double it? What is your advice?’

‘My advice is that you change the play,’ I said.

‘I should have no objection, for though I should not particularly dislike the part of Amelia if well supported, that is, if everything went well, I shall be sorry to be an inconvenience; but as they do not choose to hear your advice at that table, it certainly will not be taken.’ She fell silent for a moment and then said, ‘If any part could tempt you to act, I suppose it would be Anhalt, for he is a clergyman, you know.’

‘That circumstance would by no means tempt me,’ I said ungraciously, remembering how she had ridiculed my calling. ‘It must be very difficult to keep Anhalt from appearing a formal, solemn lecturer; and the man who chooses the profession itself is, perhaps, one of the last who would wish to represent it on the stage.’

She fell silent and then moved her chair away.

I was instantly sorry for my ill -humor, and feared I had not been polite. Besides, I could not help wondering if her words had been meant as an olive branch. By asking me to play Anhalt, was she not telling me that she no longer found the clergy objectionable?

I was about to speak to her when Tom began to urge Fanny to take the part of Cottager’s wife.

‘Me!’ cried Fanny, with a most frightened look. ‘Indeed you must excuse me. I could not act anything if you were to give me the world. No, indeed, I cannot act.’

This provoked such an unkind torrent of words from my aunt, saying that Fanny was ungrateful and other such nonsense, that I would have spoken, except that I was for the moment too angry to do so. But I found there was no need, for Miss Crawford glanced at her brother to prevent any further urging from the actors and then pull ed her chair close to Fanny’s so that she could comfort her in the most charming way.

‘You work very neatly,’ she said, looking at Fanny’s needlework. ‘I wish I could work as well. And it is an excellent pattern. You would oblige me very much if you would lend it to me.’

Fanny’s tears were blinked back from her eyes and soon turned to smiles when Miss Crawford asked about William.

‘You are lucky to have such a brother, but I am sure you deserve him. I have quite a curiosity to see him. I imagine him a very fine young man. If you will take my advice, Miss Price, you will get his picture drawn before he goes to sea again, it will be something good for you to keep by you.’

Such kindness could not help but provoke affectionate feelings from me, and, Miss Crawford happening to look up at that moment, her eyes met mine. We smiled. And then Tom cal ed out, ‘I have just been looking at my part again, and can see no way of taking Anhalt as well as the Butler. I had thought, if I left out a few words here and there, I could make it do, but it is impossible. But there will not be the small est difficulty in filling it. I could name at this moment at least six young men within six miles of us, who are wild to be admitted into our company, and there are one or two that would not disgrace us. I should not be afraid to trust Charles Maddox. I will take my horse early tomorrow morning and ride over to Stoke and settle with him.’