Edmund Bertram's Diary

‘The all will soon be told,’ cried Tom hastily, and with affected unconcern; ‘but it is not worthwhile to bore my father with it now. You will hear enough of it tomorrow, sir. We have just been trying, by way of doing something, and amusing my mother, just within the last week, to get up a few scenes, a mere trifle. We have had such incessant rains almost since October began, that we have been nearly confined to the house for days together. I have hardly taken out a gun since the third. Tolerable sport the first three days, but there has been no attempting anything since.’

Tea was brought in, but afterwards, my father would not be still, and said he would just go on a tour of the house. As soon as he left the room I knew something must be done. Tom went after Yates and I imagined my father’s face when he found his own room was no longer recognizable, with an air of confusion in the furniture, the removal of the bookcase, and the door leading through to the theatre. And what a theatre! Not the discreet affair I had hoped to encourage, but, under Tom’s fresh orders, an extravagant construction of timber, with stage and wings and scenery, complete with festooned curtains in yards of green baize. It was not long before my father, Tom and Yates returned to the drawing-room. My father’s good breeding prevented him from saying anything very much, though I could tel he was put out. Yates, entirely misjudging my father’s silence, would not let the matter go, however, and rattled on about the play in a most ill -conceived manner. As he spelt out the history of the affair, I felt my father’s eyes on me, as if to say, ‘On your good sense, Edmund, I depended; what have you been about?’

I felt anew all the impropriety of having spent his money and used his house in such a way in his absence.

The conversation turned to the Crawfords and Tom pronounced Henry to be a most pleasant, gentlemanlike man, with Mary being a sweet, pretty, elegant, lively girl.

‘I do not say he is not gentlemanlike, considering,’ burst out Rushworth, surprising us all; ‘but you should tel your father he is not above five feet eight, or he will be expecting a well -looking man. If I must say what I think, in my opinion it is very disagreeable to be always rehearsing. It is having too much of a good thing. I am not so fond of acting as I was at first. I think we are a great deal better employed, sitting comfortably here among ourselves, and doing nothing.’

It seemed he had noticed Maria and Crawford’s behavior after all, though why he had not said something at the time I could not imagine.

‘I am happy to find our sentiments on this subject so much the same,’ said my father. After which, merciful y, the evening came to an end.

I was glad to return to my room, my mind in a whirl with the events of the day. Mary — what did her looks, her smiles, mean, as she spoke to me of love and marriage?

My father — what must he think of me for using his house so ill in his absence?

I could not sleep — I still cannot. First thing in the morning I must go to my father and explain the whole, for until I have apologized I will not be easy.

Friday 14 October

I am relieved that it is over, and that I have told my father how sorry I am for letting things get so out of hand. He was forbearing and shook hands with me, and I thought how lucky I was to have such a father. He gave instructions for Christopher Jackson to dismantle the theatre this morning, and he dismissed the scene painter. When the latter had gone we discovered how careless he had been, for he had spilt quantities of paint and had spoilt the floor. My father looked grave, but said only that he would see to its restoration, and that, all In all, he was lucky it was no worse.

This afternoon proved happier than the morning. Having seen his steward and his bailiff, and having walked in the gardens and nearest plantations, my father cal ed me to him and congratulated me on what I had done. ‘It has all been well cared for. I could not have wished the estate in better hands,’ he said.

Rushworth returned to Sotherton first thing, leaving Maria restless, and at last the house is beginning to return to normal.

Wednesday 19 October

The Crawfords were once more with us today, and I could not help thinking how different our meeting was from the last one. Maria blanched when Crawford announced his intention of leaving the neighborhood, but I thought it no bad thing as, perhaps, he and Maria had become rather too friendly of late.

Thursday 20 October