Chapter Fourteen #2
“Excellent. I look forward to hearing from your attorneys, then. Mine have lately been examining some documents that will make your defeat a certainty, for it is irrefutable evidence indeed. I look forward to this entire affair coming to some swift conclusion, for Elinor’s sake—she is quite longing to take possession of the place.
But you may assure your mad wife that she will receive all the same gracious kindness that she herself showed in her earliest days as mistress of the place. What a comfort for you!”
At this Mrs. Rushworth stood and swept from the room, leaving John to slump forward at his desk.
Once alone, he let out a heavy groan. So, Elinor knew the truth.
How she must despise him! Everything he had been given—everything he had denied her—and it was all hers by right.
If he were a single man he might marry her himself, for they shared no true blood.
But he was not—he had Fanny and Harry to think of, and he could not give up no matter how desperate he felt.
He wondered what new proof Mrs. Rushworth had spoken of, and how certain it was to seal his fate. And yet… if the truth could not be denied, he might achieve his own preservation through other means. Perhaps Elinor desired Norland, but he suspected another of her desires might sway her.
He resolved to write Edward at once. Fanny had confided that she detected a growing partiality between Elinor and Edmund Bertram, and was rightly worried that it may prove an ill thing indeed.
Should Elinor and Edmund really form a serious attachment, Sir Thomas might be content to let Norland be given from one son to another.
Such an eventuality could not come to pass, no matter how much John knew his wife and her mother would disapprove of a match between Elinor and Edward.
There were far worse outcomes than that.
Indeed, Edward was Fanny’s brother, and though John believed Edward was partial to Elinor, he must have some loyalty to his family—he could be brought round to their side, and might even intercede on their behalf.
He could convince Elinor to forswear her claim on Norland entirely—surely he would do that much for his sister and her child.
After all, Edward would inherit one day, and until then he was apparently content to live a quiet life as a parson—what would he want with Norland?
John resolved to put pen to paper at once and beseech Edward to come in all haste, that Elinor was quite pining for him, and the obstacle of his mother’s wish that he marry an heiress might be overcome.
He dispatched the letter and went to tell his poor wife the good news, in hopes that she might take heart and come down from her bed chamber, where she had spent the better part of the day.
He did not make it to Fanny’s room; Sir Thomas intercepted him in the corridor, and the two men withdrew to the library to speak privately. “Well, John,” Sir Thomas said gravely. “I understand you spoke with Mrs. Rushworth.”
“Yes,” John sighed, and gave a morose shake of his head. “There is no use in arguing with her—she will not see reason. I suppose I can only pray that I have better attorneys than she.”
“I am not without some hope yet,” Sir Thomas replied. “Maria has been showing some renewed interest in Mr. Rushworth—perhaps this will be enough to placate the old dragon.”
John scowled, for he doubted this very much. “I am sure she is bent on ruining me—all of us.”
“It has been three weeks, and she has not made good on her threats—she seeks to discomfit us, but I daresay there is no more she can do without sufficient proof. Trust me, my son. I am sure it will come out well, and I have made some preliminary preparations in Antigua for you, in the event it does all go wrong.”
John groaned. “Let us hope, sir, that it does not come to that!”
“I am sure it shall not,” Sir Thomas said gravely.
“Now, there is a particular matter I had wished to speak to you about. As you know, I have been putting Fanny Price forward—in part for her own protection, should the worst occur—but happily fate has given us a chance. Crawford seems interested, and this has led Maria back to Rushworth, just as we desired. A ball may seem extravagant at such a time, and surely we may not feel so festive ourselves, but I think it ought to be done. I am sure it is just what is needed to help these young people to the proper conclusion.”
Nodding his head slowly, John considered this.
He knew his wife would lament the expense—she was hardly fit to plan such an event, in her current state, but her mother could accomplish it.
If Maria could be secured once and for all for Rushworth, it would be well worth it—and if Elinor might be similarly united with Edward, so much the better!
“I suppose we had better arrange it all, then. Let it be tomorrow week, that should be ample time. I shall tell Mrs. Ferrars to send invitations round.”
“Do keep it a small affair, I think,” Sir Thomas said. “Too great a crowd may tempt Mrs. Rushworth to some mischief. We only want a few neighboring families and some very fine musicians, and that will suffice to move things along as we desire.”
“Very well then, I shall see to it.” John was ready to call his business for the day concluded, and hastened to tell his wife of the recent developments.
Fanny Price nearly jumped at the sound of a knock at her door. “Come in,” she said; Mrs. Jennings must wish to advise her in her toilette. But no—it was Julia who slipped into the room with a broad smile. “I heard the first of your new dresses arrived late this afternoon. Is that it there?”
Fanny was holding the parcel, which was wrapped in brown paper and tied with a pretty gold ribbon. “Yes, I have it here.”
“Well, let us have a look, then! Surely you mean to wear it tonight? But of course you do.” Julia hurried to Fanny’s side, clapping her hands as Fanny carefully untied the ribbon and began to unwrap the parcel, trying to tear the paper as little as possible.
“Oh, no,” Julia cried. “You must rip it—it is the most satisfying thing, do not you think?”
“I hardly know,” Fanny admitted. She was so rarely receiving presents and parcels; she had little experience in the matter. She winced, and gave the brown paper a tremendous tug; it fell away with a loud tear. “Oh! That was quite gratifying!”
Even more so was the sight of the rich blue silk when Fanny opened the box.
Julia had seized the gold ribbon and was peering into the mirror as she arranged it around her hair in a few different ways, but she cast the ribbon aside as Fanny took the gown from its box and ran her hands reverently over the soft fabric.
Julia did likewise, and then took the dress in her hands and held it up against Fanny.
The sleeves were narrow all the way to the elbow, and the neckline a compromise between Fanny’s modesty and Mrs. Jennings’ bold suggestions.
Thin, shimmering sarsenet draped from the high waist, and a small amount of silver embroidery embellished the bodice.
Fanny had wanted something simple, but this was a work of art—and yet she was not so dismayed at such finery—she fervently wished to put it on.
“How well it suits you,” Julia cried. “Oh, Cousin, how I wish I had been with you when you ordered your new clothes! I really think I ought to have gone, and I wanted to—but Mr. Ferrars! I am sure he could not part with me that morning—he has been so attentive since he has come—and he asked me particularly to walk with him and his mother that morning. How vastly kind she was to me, and Fanny Dashwood, too! La! How well I recall us laughing together at Mansfield one night, when I had imagined the Ferrars brothers would be very odious indeed. Well, I am glad to be wrong!”
Fanny hardly knew how to reply. “Indeed?”
“Of course, silly! Oh, I am sure I can forgive you for not noticing how handsome Robert Ferrars is—for you have your Mr. Crawford. But really, he is a fine gentleman—Mr. Ferrars, I mean. Fanny Dashwood has never been particularly warm before, but I like her very well now, so it is little surprise I should find her brother so agreeable. Perhaps he has not the masculine countenance of your Mr. Crawford, but I think him very fine indeed, very fashionable and gentlemanlike. He moves in the first circles in London—but what a pity he should be a second son, and more a pity that the elder brother does not come amongst us.”
“Well—I am glad you like him,” Fanny said, still marvelling at her new gown.
“And I am glad you do not! That is—I am sure you esteem him as a proper gentleman, but I am glad you do not fancy him as I do. Better you poach from Maria,” Julia said with a laugh.
Fanny flinched. “Please, Cousin, do not say such things. He is not my Mr. Crawford, and I cannot at all account for why he should suddenly pay me any addresses at all. I do not mean to disoblige Maria—but I had begun to think she did not mind it, anyhow.”
Julia shrugged her shoulders. “Oh, Fanny, do not fear! I heartily approve of your conquest, whatever Maria’s feelings. Of course Mr. Crawford should notice you, now you are come out, and always looking so lovely. Indeed, he has made a fine exchange.”
Fanny blushed and glanced back at her dress. “I really ought to begin getting ready.”
“Well, ring for your maid. I share mine with Maria, and thus I am done early. Maria will need some additional preparations to be in fine looks, and she shall need it if she is to win back one of her erstwhile suitors.”
Fanny could not like to hear one cousin abusing another, particularly when she herself was so afraid of giving Maria any pain or offense. Fortunately, Julia was content to chatter, and changed the subject directly.