Edmund Bertram's Diary

We dined at Sotherton today, and a dull time we had of it. Rushworth talked of his dogs and his sport, Maria seemed out of sorts, and spoke barely two words to anyone. She took no notice of Rushworth and I wondered again if she should be marrying him.

I cannot make her out. Sometimes she seems pleased with him, or to miss him, but sometimes she seems as though she wishes herself far removed from him.

My aunt and Mrs. Rushworth were the only people who seemed to enjoy the evening, and I was glad when it was over.

Wednesday 26 October

I could contain myself no longer. I spoke to my father about Maria’s engagement this morning, telling him of my concerns, but he reassured me by saying he had already spoken to her about it.

‘She assures me that she has no desire of breaking the engagement, that she has the highest esteem for Mr. Rushworth’s character and disposition, and she has no doubt of her happiness with him,’ he said.

I looked my doubts.

‘Love is not the only reason for marriage, Edmund,’ he said to me seriously, ‘in fact it is sometimes better if a woman is not blinded by love for then she goes into the marriage with a clear mind, and has no unpleasant surprises. Rushworth will never be a leading character, but he has no vices. Besides, a young woman who does not marry for love is in general more attached to her own home, and Mansfield Park being such an easy distance from Sotherton, it means only that we will see more of Maria here than we would otherwise.’

I was not comforted by this interview as much as I had expected to be, but if my father is satisfied that Maria will be happy, and if she herself is still in favor of the match, then I believe the marriage will go ahead.

Monday 31 October

Mrs. Rushworth has moved out of Sotherton, in preparation for Maria’s wedding, and has gone, with her maid and her footman, to Bath.

NOVEMBER

Friday 11 November

And so it has happened at last. This morning Maria was married. The wedding went well, with Maria being in good looks and elegantly dressed, attended by Fanny and Julia. Mama stood with her salts in her hand all the time, whilst my father looked dignified. Dr Grant performed the ceremony with feeling and then it was done.

‘I knew how it would be as soon as I saw her with him for the first time last year,’ said Aunt Norris this evening. ‘ “What a thing it would be for our Maria to marry Mr. Rushworth”, I said, and now, you see, with a little contriving, it has come to pass. How happy Maria looked this morning!

And no wonder. The mistress of Sotherton, with a house in London, and the added felicity of a few weeks in Brighton to enjoy. How lucky she is, to be going to Brighton! And it is just as lovely at this time of year as it is in the summer.’

‘Just so,’ said my father.

‘And how lucky Julia is, to be going with her, for she is sure to enjoy the amusements as much as Maria. And when they have exhausted the novelty of Brighton, they will have London to look forward to.’

She continued in similar vein until at last she had talked herself to a standstill. A silence fell. There was no Maria at the pianoforte or Julia wandering around the room; no Tom, for he has gone to town, and no Crawford, for he has returned to his estate.

‘How quiet we are without them,’ Mama observed sadly after dinner. She turned to Fanny, who was sewing quietly, her needle flashing as her small white fingers did their work. ‘Fanny, my dear, put your work aside and come and sit next to me on the sofa.’

Fanny did as she was bid and was soon sitting with Mama, who gave her Pug to hold as a mark of the highest approbation.

Monday 21 November

If my sisters’ departure has done one thing, it has given Fanny more chance of coming forward, and for this I am very glad.

She went into the village this morning on an errand and as it happened to come on to rain when she passed the Parsonage she was asked inside. Miss Crawford provided her with dry clothes and then entertained her until the rain ceased. It was just like Mary to be so considerate and I am sure Fanny enjoyed herself immensely.

I have seen little of Mary since the play. Perhaps it is a good thing, as the rehearsal brought forth feelings that should have been left buried, for I have nothing to offer an heiress and it would be fol y for me to think of her except as a dear friend. And yet... and yet... once I am ordained I will have a house and an income, and I cannot help remembering her face as she said to me, ‘I’ll marry.’

‘I am very glad the rain stopped before too long,’ said Fanny, ‘for Dr Grant threatened to send me home in the carriage otherwise.’

I smiled at her use of the word threatened. Anyone else would have said promised.

‘And why should he not, Fanny? It is only what any gentleman would do for a neighbor. You must learn to think more of yourself, for I assure you, we all think very highly of you. And so Miss Crawford played the harp for you, did she?’

‘Yes, she did.’