Edmund Bertram's Diary

She smiled her acquiescence and, unfastening her chain, she turned round so that I could put the pearls round her neck. As she bent forward I was suddenly nervous. I fastened the necklace, telling myself that I had performed the same office for her many times before, but this time was different, for as I closed the clasp I felt my hand tremble. She straightened her head and looked at the pearls in the mirror, thanking me for them with her sweetest smile, then I gave her my arm and led her downstairs. all through dinner, I had eyes only for Fanny, and even when the guests began to arrive I could not take my eyes away. She greeted them all with a mixture of sweetness and intelligence, no longer tongue-tied in company, but setting everyone at their ease by talking to them of their own concerns and replying with the same ease to their questions about her own. As I watched her, I found myself wondering how it had happened, how long she had been like this. Had she suddenly blossomed? Or had I simply not noticed the moment at which she had turned from a hesitant girl into an assured woman.

The musicians began to play, and Julia and Yates took their places, ready to open the dancing. I saw my father watching them approvingly, whilst Mama looked on and smiled. I claimed Fanny’s hand with pleasure and led her on to the floor. I could not take my eyes from her.

‘You are quiet tonight,’ she said to me, as the steps of the dance brought us together. I roused myself.

‘I am not doing my duty. I am a poor partner.’

‘No,’ she said, ‘You are the perfect partner.’

And as she smiled, I knew. Fanny loved me! I returned her smile, and there were no two happier people in the room.

The first two dances came to an end, but I could not go to Fanny as I wanted, for I was committed to dancing with Julia. I could not pay attention to my sister, however, for I could not take my eyes from Fanny.

Julia followed my longing gaze and gave an arch smile.

‘Fanny is looking well tonight,’ she said.

‘Yes, she is,’ I said, for the candlelight was behind her, giving her a radiance that made her shine.

‘It was an evil day for us when Crawford ran off with Maria, but it was a good day for Fanny. It will not be long before she attracts another offer of marriage, and one from a man of far more worth.’

‘I hope so,’ was all I could manage.

After Julia, I was engaged to dance with several other young ladies, but just before supper I was free to reclaim Fanny.

‘You are tired,’ I said.

‘Too tired for dancing, but not otherwise fatigued,’ she returned.

‘Then will you take a walk with me along the terrace?’ She agreed readily, and we went outside.

‘Fanny...’

‘Yes, Edmund?’

‘Fanny, I have been a fool,’ I said rueful y. ‘Can you ever forgive me?’

‘There is nothing to forgive.’

‘Then will you do me the honor, the very great honor of accepting my hand in marriage?’

Her smile lit the night.

‘Yes, Edmund, I will.’

‘How long have you loved me?’ I could not resist asking her, as we walked on together.

‘I hardly know, but certainly before the Crawfords moved into the neighborhood,’ she said.

‘So long ago? I knew you worshipped me as a child, but I never, until this evening, knew that your feelings had turned to love.’

‘I did not notice the change myself, it was so gradual. But when the Crawfords came to Mansfield Park I came to know myself, for I envied Mary Crawford your attentions. I am ashamed to say it, but it was so. I could not bear to see you throw all your love away on someone who was not worthy of you. I tried to tel myself that, if she had been everything that was wise and good, I would not have minded, that I would have been happy for you, but I knew it was not so. I would have envied anyone who had your love.’

I thought of the events of the past year and knew how painful they must have been for her, and how lucky I was that, through them all, she had loved me. She had seen me with all my faults and failings and her feelings were unchanged. I did not need to make myself someone I was not in order to please Fanny; she loved me as I was. I had done with dazzle and sparkle, and had fall en in love with goodness, intelligence, beauty and true worth.

‘I would never have talked to you about Mary had I known,’ I said. I thought of the way I had gone to Fanny’s room, asking her to help me with the play, expecting her to prompt Mary and me as we spoke words of love to one another under the guise of drama.

‘That was not the hardest part,’ she said.

‘No?’

‘No. The hardest part was when you urged me to marry Mr. Crawford.’

‘I shudder to think of it. I cannot believe I was so blind. You would have been trapped with a vicious, shall ow man, and I would have been left to rue the day I urged my Fanny to marry him.’

‘Not if Miss Crawford had accepted you.’