Chapter Seven
John Dashwood had become a wealthy man upon inheriting Norland, but was in every other respect unremarkable.
He had never been first among his peers in intellect or appearance, and felt his greatest distinction was in his choice of a wife.
She had brought fortune and fashion alike into their marriage, and a shrewd mind besides; her decided opinions were assumed as his own, easily and often, and he would all the while thank his lucky stars that he had found such a companion for life.
Having little enough interest in the business of his estate, John Dashwood was content to adopt his wife’s cares, for her comfort and happiness were as dear to him as his own, and his happiness had depended for many years upon hers.
She had not desired so large a party at Norland, though John had thought it would be just the thing to solidify their possession of the place.
They had been there less than a year, and it did not yet feel entirely his own.
In the rare instances of disagreement between them, John had acquired some subtle skill in bringing her around, and Fanny generally required but a little nudge to see the advantages in whatever scheme delighted him.
He had begun to worry that he had pressed too far, this time, and with too little encouragement. God willing, her mother’s arrival would put Fanny’s humor to rights, for she was really quite cross this morning.
“What do you mean your uncle wishes a private audience with you? It cannot be to share any good news, or he would have done so directly, and with twenty people depleting our pantry every day, I cannot think why he would seek to burden you any further. If I were you, I should refuse to hear him.”
John sighed heavily. “Refuse him? Surely not! Come, Fanny, I am sure it could not be anything so very bad. Indeed, I am quite sure I have discerned the matter he wishes to speak of, and it will be no trouble to us at all.”
Fanny arched an eyebrow and crossed her arms. “Is that so?”
John nodded, for he was really quite proud at having quickly deduced a particular matter. “Indeed. I have reason to think it regards my cousin Maria. Stevens told me this morning when he was dressing me that he heard it from one of the other servants, who heard from Maria’s maid….”
“John.”
“Right. Well, you must have perceived the attentions that Crawford fellow has been paying Maria. A fine fellow, I thought him, too. I would wager he is quite the sportsman! A welcome addition to our party here, to be sure, but then I recalled that my uncle had been rather indifferent, in his letter, about Crawford’s inclusion in the party. ”
“That may be natural enough, for at least he was sensible enough to balk at the imposition, while your half-sisters have not been so fastidious in bringing guests of their own.”
“Oh! Well, as to that—I really think Willoughby as agreeable a fellow as Crawford, and Mrs. Jennings is a fine lady, very well-connected, I understand….”
“John….”
“Yes—I digress. Well, you know, I thought at once of a match between Maria and this Crawford, and then the Rushworths arrived, and his attachment to Maria is just as obvious. And Stevens says Maria was actually engaged to Rushworth, but broke it off in favor of Crawford, and they are all astonishment that Rushworth should have pursued her here at all!”
“Well, I have never been one to indulge in the tittle-tattle of servants, but on this occasion I do think something may be in it,” Fanny admitted.
“Though I cannot see how that can affect you. I hope your uncle is not expecting you to turn the man out of the house! It would be a shocking thing for our reputation.”
“Oh—I had not thought of that,” John replied. “I supposed he might wish my advice on the matter, before making the decision for his daughter.”
“I cannot think why that should be, though perhaps there is more in it,” Fanny said, her lips curling into a frown.
“What can you mean?”
“Only consider his timing in coming, John. He has just returned from a lengthy trip to Antigua to look after his holdings there. I should not be surprised if he has suffered a great loss, and now, with two gentlemen eager to marry his daughter, must come to borrow money so that he can pay her dowry.”
“Oh no!” John sat down heavily, considering this new possibility.
In truth, another thought had initially nagged at him, one he could not speak of to his wife; he feared perhaps Sir Thomas meant to speak to him about giving more support to his half-sisters.
After all, the Bertrams have done a great deal for Fanny Price, which must make his measures of assistance for his sisters look mean by comparison.
But this eventuality, of Sir Thomas’s finances being in distress, was even more worrisome. “Surely he could not expect us to help—we have little Harry to think of,” he cried.
Fanny shrugged. “There is no accounting for what he may expect—only think of what you can afford.”
“Quite right, my dear.”
Fanny gave a small smile, drumming her fingers on her writing desk.
“And it is not so very bad for Sir Thomas, I am sure—his daughter Julia might wait some years to wed, and remain at home. As to the older girl, Rushworth is the man of greater means, and if he can forgo her dowry entirely, I am sure he might be able to do something for his new in-laws.”
“That is just what I should advise,” John declared. “Crawford is a jolly fellow—the pleasanter of the two, to be sure—but Rushworth must be the man. That is just the answer—but I wonder Sir Thomas never thought of it. Well, I had better be off to speak with him—I can see no harm in that.”
“Certainly not, only take care you are not persuaded into anything more. If he has suffered a loss, they might well have dismissed their servants and closed the house, with the intention of remaining here for quite some time!”
“Well! But surely not—of course, I cannot be sure. Indeed, perhaps I may ask him about it—I can easily inquire how long they mean to stay—perhaps hint that we mean to be in Town before Christmas. Yes. Well, I am glad we have spoken, my dear, for I know just how to act.” John gave his wife a quick kiss on the cheek before going off in search of his uncle. “I am certain it will come out right.”
Sir Thomas steepled his fingers on John’s desk, unsure of how to begin.
The moment was upon him, the very purpose for his visit to Norland, and yet he could scarcely meet his son’s eye.
“John, there is a great matter we must discuss. In many respects, I have been long remiss in not speaking sooner, and yet I fear you will soon wish that I had not done so at all—unfortunately, circumstances are… well, it must be done.”
John’s confident posture deflated. “If it is to do with my half-sisters, sir….”
Sir Thomas held up his hand. “No, not at all.”
“Good, good. And your affairs in Antigua, sir? I trust your visit there did not go afoul?”
“Yes, it was all quite above board.”
“Well, that is a relief.”
“Let us not be too hasty. As regards the Dashwood girls, I have heard some reports, albeit from a very biased source—but no matter. I fear that what I am about to say may make their situation lessen somewhat in importance to you, and as much as I have done for the Prices, I have been just as remiss as you toward the Dashwoods. Indeed, it is of my own folly that we are now obliged to speak.”
John had momentarily bristled at the mention of his neglect toward the Dashwood girls, and Sir Thomas spared a moment’s consideration for them.
It was true they had been robbed of their due, and though he might doubt Prudence Rushworth’s assertions on that score, certainly Fanny Dashwood’s behavior had confirmed the truth already.
And yet, if Sir Thomas could work out some solution to his own problem, the Dashwood girls’ genteel poverty might remain just the same.
Perhaps, if Fanny Price were to find a husband, or take some position as a companion, he might do something more for his other nieces.
“Well, I had better get on with it,” Sir Thomas said, for John looked very worried indeed. “I can only beg your forgiveness, my son.”
“Sir?”
Tears pricked at Sir Thomas’s eyes as the truth finally made it to his lips.
Despite the dire situation, it felt natural and right to finally acknowledge his firstborn, and his lost love Mary Sterling was very present in his thoughts.
“Yes, John. It has been a great secret all these years, known to no living person but myself, until recently. I am your natural father.”
“That cannot be! Surely you jest, sir.” John stood up abruptly and began to pace the room; Sir Thomas was obliged to turn about in his chair to face him, still feeling a swelling affection at such a dreadful moment. “This cannot be,” John repeated. “How could such a thing be possible?”
“I met your mother the year before her marriage. My brother was still alive, and I was a second son with few prospects. She was determined to resist when she was affianced to Henry Dashwood, for we were so desperately in love—we, ah… consummated our attachment, just before her wedding. It could not be prevented, and she married without knowing she already carried my child. You.”
“Good God,” John cried. “This cannot be true!”
“I understand it is a shock,” Sir Thomas said with great solemnity.
He knew he was an old fool to hope for any paternal regard from John so soon, and yet he had hoped.
“Your mother had little affection for your father. I am sorry if this pains you, but it is the truth. She was happy enough to give him a son and heir, and… dispense with that duty. Thus she bore him no true children. I believe it gave her comfort to know that our son would be provided for.”