Edmund Bertram's Diary

My poor Fanny! How I felt for her. But my father was very pleased when he read it.

‘It will do her good to be back with them again,’ he said. ‘It will show her that the pleasures of a gentleman’s residence are not to be overlooked, and that, as Mrs. Crawford, she will suffer none of the ill s her mother endures. No small house or thin wall s; no troublesome servants; no curses; no lack of order.’

‘So that is the direction your thoughts are taking,’ I mused.

‘Yes, they are. I would like to see her provided for, comfortably settled, and with a secure future; for to remain here as a companion to her aunts is no life for a young girl. She is timid, and needs encouragement, and I mean to do all In my power to try and promote her happiness by helping her to overcome her shyness, and to full y realize the advantages of the life she is being offered. Have you heard anything from Crawford?’

‘Yes, he sent me a letter. He is in Norfolk at present, having some business there. He is as constant as ever, and though he said little about Fanny, what he said was to the point.’

‘Good, good. I was afraid he might cry off. With so little encouragement, it would not be surprising. But it seems he means to have her, and if he will wait a little longer, I feel all will be well. Did he see your sisters in town?’

‘No, but Maria has sent him a card for her party on the twenty-eighth, when she opens her house in Wimpole Street. His sister means to go with him.’

‘That is all to the good. A connection between the two families will help his case.’

I did not say that I hoped for an even closer connection between the two families ere long, but I thought it.

‘Will you be attending your sister’s party?’

‘If I am in London in time.’

We returned to the drawing-room, and I was struck by how empty it was without Fanny. I thought it strange that someone so quiet could make such an impression on the house, and that I noticed her absence more than that of my sisters, who were twice as noisy.

Saturday 25 February

Tom echoed my father’s question, asking if I would be going to Maria’s party when I met him in London today. He invited me to dine with him and his friends and I arrived at his rooms this evening to find all his usual cronies there. The atmosphere was jovial and the wine was flowing freely.

I said that I was, and asked if he would be there.

‘I suppose I will have to look in, but I do not intend to stay for long. I have better things to do.’

‘Better things in the shape of a sweet little actress,’ said Langley, drawing her shape with his hands in the air, and they all laughed.

‘Whilst your better things come in the shape of an opera dancer,’ returned Tom.

‘Have you a mistress, Bertram?’ asked Hargate.

When I said no, he said, ‘We must find you one.’

‘Edmund has no taste for mistresses,’ said Tom with a sly glance at me. ‘He is more interested in horse flesh. There is a certain little fill y that has caught his eye.’

‘Have you put a bet on her?’ asked Langley curiously.

Before I could reply, Tom said, ‘No, but I have put a bet on him. I think brother Edmund will be lucky, and if he is, the fill y in question will bring him twenty thousand pounds.’

‘Twenty thousand? What sort of odds must you have to get... Oh! well said, Bertram. A fine fill y indeed!’

I tried to get Tom to be serious but it was not to be, and the evening was spent in similar vein. The conversation turned to an outing on the river they were planning and Tom said, ‘Come with us.’

He would not take no for an answer, and I have promised to join him on Tuesday.

Monday 27 February

I went to see the solicitors this morning and had a long consultation with them. I feel I am better prepared to take the step of matrimony, if Mary will have me.

Tuesday 28 February

The day was unusual y mild and we spent a riotous afternoon on the river. When it was time to turn for home there was a good deal of confusion and one of the boats overturned. Tom fell in, I went with him, and the result was that we missed Maria’s party.

‘The weather is too fine to stay in town. I have never seen such fine weather in February, it is hot enough to be May! We are all going out of town for the races next week. You should come with us, Edmund,’ he said, as we changed our clothes in his rooms. ‘It will do you good to have some fun for a change. You need not worry about Mary missing you. By all accounts, she is enjoying herself in London, with a constant round of parties and friends, and she will not even notice you have gone.’

That was not what I wanted to hear, and I said, ‘I thought you had done with gambling.’

‘Always my conscience, Edmund? You may rest easy, I am not going to bet on a horse, I am going to ride one. Let other people bet on me,’ he said, as he stripped off his wet shirt.

‘And do you think you have a chance of winning?’ I asked him, not sure whether I liked this new turn of events, for although Tom was a good rider, some of the races were brutal.