Edmund Bertram's Diary

After breakfast I walked down to the Parsonage and gave the news there as well. Miss Crawford’s smiles rewarded me for my troubles and I felt that, after all, I had done the best I could in a difficult situation.

There was one other consolation. Miss Crawford, in the goodness of her heart, persuaded her sister to take the part of Cottager’s Wife, so that Fanny would not be entreated to perform again. My joy was short-lived, for when I returned to the Park I found Maria and Crawford rehearsing their parts so avidly I thought they could not forget their lines if they lived to be ninety. Every time I came upon them, Maria was either embracing Crawford or laying her head on his breast, so that I began to think I should have forbidden the play, sent Yates about his business, and locked Maria in her room until my father returned.

Wednesday 5 October

The house was in chaos this morning. I could not move without falling over someone. If it was not Tom, prancing around and saying:

‘There lived a lady in this land,

Whose charms the heart made tingle;

At church she had not given her hand,

And therefore still was single.’

it was Yates, telling Julia she should not have been allowed to sit out, but should have been persuaded to take the part of Amelia, which would have suited her talents admirably; or my aunt, telling us she had managed to save half a crown here and half a crown there; or Rushworth, attempting to learn his forty-two speeches and failing miserably to learn even one. Fanny was dragooned by my aunt, who, seeing her with a moment to herself between prompting Rushworth and condoling with Tom over the shortcomings of the scene painter, said,

‘Come, Fanny, these are fine times for you, but you must not be always walking from one room to the other, and doing the lookings-on at your ease, in this way; I want you here. I have been slaving myself till I can hardly stand, to contrive Mr. Rushworth’s cloak without sending for any more satin; and now I think you may give me your help in putting it together. There are but three seams; you may do them in a trice. It would be lucky for me if I had nothing but the executive part to do. You are best off, I can tel you: but if nobody did more than you, we should not get on very fast.’

I was about to speak up for Fanny when Mama pleased me greatly by saying, ‘One cannot wonder, sister, that Fanny should be delighted: it is all new to her, you know.’

I blessed her silently and went into the billiard room to find my script, for I had a great deal to learn.

As soon as I entered I heard Maria and Crawford rehearsing their lines. Maria said, in languishing tones: ‘He talked of love, and promised me marriage. He was the first man who ever spoke to me on such a subject. His flat ery made me vain, and his repeated vows

— Oh! oh! I was intoxicated by the fervent caresses of a young, inexperienced, capricious man, and did not recover from the delirium till it was too late.’

I was horrified. Fervent caresses! Delirium! And Tom was standing there, listening to them from the side of the room, and encouraging them!

‘Tom, I thought those lines had been cut,’ I said.

‘Why should they be cut?’ he asked, whilst singing: under his breath all the while.

‘Count Cassel wooed this maid so rare,

And in her eye found grace;

And if his purpose was not fair,

It probably was base.’

‘They are far too warm,’ I said.

‘Too warm? Nonsense.’

Maria, meanwhile, was declaiming: ‘His leave of absence expired, he returned to his regiment, depending on my promise, and well assured of my esteem. As soon as my situation became known—’

‘Her situation!’ I exploded.

‘—I was questioned, and received many severe reproaches: But I refused to confess who was my undoer; and for that obstinacy was turned from the castle.’

‘Be quick with your narrative, or you’ll break my heart,’ said Crawford, pressing her hand to his lips in a way I was sure was not in the script.

‘I will say something if you will not,’ I said to Tom.

‘Oh, very well, I suppose those lines could be cut. Maria!’ he cal ed. ‘There is no need to say that about fervent caresses.’

‘But it is one of the most touching lines in the play!’ protested Crawford.

‘It shall not be said in this house,’ I replied, and carried my way.

‘Ah! Count!’ said Tom, as Rushworth entered the room. ‘Just the fellow I was looking for. Give me my line.’

‘Line? What line?’ said Rushworth.

‘The line that leads into my verses:

‘For ah! the very night before,

No prudent guard upon her,

The Count he gave her oaths a score,

And took in change her honor.’

‘You are out there, Bertram,’ said Rushworth. ‘That comes before the Count enters, and not afterwards.’

‘No, no, before the Count enters I say:

‘Then you, who now lead single lives,

From this sad tale beware;

And do not act as you were wives,

Before you real y are.’