Edmund Bertram's Diary

‘She will be staying with her uncle?’ asked Owen.

‘No, with her friend, a Mrs. Fraser.’

There was a short pause, then Mrs. Owen said, ‘It seems a shame that you should have to hurry back to Mansfield tomorrow, Mr. Bertram, we have seen so very little of you. will you not do us the very great favor of staying another week?’

I thought of Mansfield and I knew that Mary would not yet have left, so that if I returned as planned I would be forced into company with her. I found I did not want to see her again. What use would it be for me to torment myself with the sight of her, when I knew she would never marry me? For she would not be satisfied until she had a house in town and a husband who was universal y acclaimed.

And then I thought of Owen’s house, with his welcoming family and his pretty sisters, and I said,

‘You are very kind. I would like to stay above all things.’

Mrs. Owen smiled.

‘Then it is settled,’ she said.

1809 JANUARY

Thursday 5 January

‘Your sister Maria is newly married, I understand?’ said Mrs. Owen, as I walked through the village with the family this morning.

‘Yes, she is, to Mr. Rushworth.’

‘He is a man of considerable property, I believe. Your mother must be very pleased. I would not stand in the way of my daughters if their feelings cal ed them to such a marriage, but I confess I would rather see them married to clergymen. They would make such good clergymen’s wives, all of them. They have been used to helping their father about the parish, visiting the sick and the elderly, helping with the children, sewing clothes, giving advice, and of course now they will be able to help their brother, too. Do you have anyone to help you in your parish, Mr. Bertram?’

I could not misunderstand her, and let her know, in a roundabout fashion, that I was not in a position to marry, for although I had wanted to marry Mary, I had no desire to marry any of the Miss Owens, no matter how pretty they were.

‘But you will be, one day,’ she said. ‘I hope you may find a pretty and useful wife to support you, a young woman who will bring gladness to your life, and turn your Parsonage into a home. There is more to life than work, however noble the calling and, as I often say to my son, he must not neglect his future in the busy application of the present. But come, we have fall en behind the others, we will have to hurry if we are to catch them before they turn into the lane.’

We soon drew level with them. Owen was walking next to Miss Anne, and his father was walking next to Miss Lucy.

‘Jane, dear, you look fatigued,’ said Mrs. Owen.

I offered Miss Owen my arm, which she took with a smile, and then I offered her mother my other arm. She took it, and thus arranged, we headed home.

I made sure to raise no expectations in Miss Owen, and this evening I paid attention to her two sisters, to make my intentions clear: having given her mother a hint that I was not ready to settle, I felt it incumbent upon me to give Miss Owen a hint likewise. But I could not help thinking that it would be a lucky man who won her, for her kind of beauty, elegance and sweet nature are seldom met with.

Tuesday 10 January

My visit came to an end this morning. The Owens sent me off with good wishes, with Mrs. Owen telling me I must stay with them whenever I should find myself in the neighborhood, and Mr. Owen seconding her invitation. Owen rode with me as far as Peterborough, where he left me, and I went on alone. The weather remained fine, with a piercing blue sky and sharp shadows, but it was bitingly cold, and I was glad of the exercise to keep me warm. As I neared Mansfield I was glad I did not have to fear meeting Miss Crawford, for her satirical comments on my new status would have been hard to bear. To be laughed at before I was a clergyman had been hard enough; to be laughed at when my ambition was accomplished would have been far worse. I had so far schooled myself to forgetting her, that when I saw her walking through the village with her brother I was astonished. I was forced to stop, and I steeled myself to her satirical words. But I was surprised to hear her saying, in the most affable manner, ‘Mr. Bertram! This is a welcome surprise. You have been very much missed.’

My thoughts were sent reeling. What did it mean? Had she been thinking about what I had said?

Had her natural justice done what her hastiness could not, and shown her the truth of my words? And had they been strong enough to do away with her unreasonable prejudices?

The smile that accompanied her words was so radiant it gave me cause to hope. I returned her greeting, and rode on to Mansfield Park with my spirits singing. She was still at Mansfield! And she had greeted me warmly! And with such a smile! She had decided — perhaps she had decided — that the church was an honorable calling; and that true friendship, and more than friendship, outweighed all other considerations. But whatever the case, of one thing I could be certain: she had missed me!