Edmund Bertram's Diary

Maria recovered her composure and I listened to her continuing tales of triumph, interspersed by Julia’s remarks, for some time longer, until, seeing a space free near Mary, I made my way over to her. She was standing in a large group with Lady Stornaway. I waited, hoping for my chance to speak to her alone, but I became more and more disgusted with the conversation, for they were talking about the chances of Miss Dunstan catching the eye of Mr. Croker, a man they thought very desirable, despite his reputation for drunkenness, because he had £20,000 a year.

I was about to move away when Mary detached herself from her companions and said, ‘So, you are here. How pleased I am to see you. You are enjoying yourself, I hope? No, do not tel me. I can see you are not enjoying yourself as much as you do at Mansfield. Dear Mansfield! I must confess, Mr. Bertram, that I miss it. How happy we all were there over the winter. I find myself looking forward to June, when I will be there again.’

‘There is no need for you to wait so long. You will be welcome at Mansfield whenever you return,’ I said to her.

‘But then I would have to disappoint my friends here, for I have promised to stay. An agreement, once reached, must be honored, do you not think?’

‘Indeed it must,’ I said with a smile.

I was about to lead her aside and ask if I might have a private audience with her, when Lady Stornaway joined us. Raising her lorgnette, she asked, ‘And who is this?’

‘Mr. Edmund Bertram,’ said Mary.

‘Indeed. You are a country parson, I understand, Mr. Bertram?’

I felt Mary grow restless beside me.

‘I am.’

‘Well, it is not a bad beginning for a young man of your age, but no doubt you will soon be tired of it and will be seeking advancement in town.’

‘I can assure your ladyship that I am very happy in the country, and have no desire to make my mark in the outside world.’

‘Indeed? How very odd,’ she said. ‘A young man at your time of life has no business in settling for so little, when he could achieve so much. We must encourage him to enlarge his thinking, Miss Crawford.’

‘Believe me, Lady Stornaway, I have been trying,’ said Mary. ‘But, so far, without success.’

‘A young lady of your beauty, wit and intelligence will not be denied for very long. What do you say, Mr. Bertram? It would be ungallant of you to resist such loveliness, would it not?’

Mary looked at me challengingly, and, feeling myself trapped and uncomfortable, I said stiffly, ‘I would not deny Miss Crawford anything I could in reason give her.’

Lady Stornaway took my answer to mean I would seek advancement, and I had nothing more to do but to extricate myself from my predicament as quickly as I could. If only I could extricate Mary from her London friends so quickly, I would be well pleased.

Wednesday 15 March

I saw Tom in the park this morning, where we were both riding, and he hallooed me at once, riding over with his party of friends.

‘Wellmet, little brother.’

He was looking well, and was in good spirits, having won at the races.

‘So, how is the little fill y?’ asked Langley. ‘Got her into harness yet?’

I shook my head; Tom was sympathetic; and before I knew it, I was telling him my troubles.

‘Women are the very devil,’ said Langley.

‘Not worth it,’ said Hargate.

‘This one certainly isn’t. Why not marry one of the Miss Owens instead?’ asked Tom. ‘Any one of them would make you a respectable wife.’

‘Because it is Mary I want.’

Hargate nodded sagely.

‘So what are you going to do?’ asked Tom.

‘I will be seeing her tomorrow, but if her mood is still as changeable, and if I have no chance to speak to her alone, I intend to go back to Mansfield and hope for better things once she rejoins her sister there in the summer.’

‘Brother Edmund has a rocky road ahead of him,’ said Tom. ‘We must make sure he enjoys himself this evening, to fortify himself for what is to come.’ He saw my look and said, ‘Never fear, in deference to your tender years and calling, we will be as sober as judges—’

‘Drunk, but not falling down drunk!’ said Hargate.

‘As sober as country parsons,’ amended Tom.

‘Which means snoring drunk,’ said Langley.

‘As sober as young ladies in the seminary,’ reproved Tom.

‘Good God! He means it,’ said Danvers, pull ing a tragic face which was, nevertheless, so comical I could not help but laugh.

‘Much better,’ said Tom.

His high spirits lifted my own, and we had a merry day of it.

Thursday 16 March

I dined with the Frasers this evening, but I had no chance to speak to Mary alone, and no desire to do so. Her conversation made it clear that she is torn between a love of wealth and all It can bring, and a desire for something deeper and richer which money cannot buy. But instead of choosing between them, she is tormenting herself because she cannot have both. By the time she returns to Mansfield I hope she will know what she truly desires.

Saturday 18 March