Chapter Fifteen #5
Fanny drew away from Mary, feeling a sudden, dizzying chill.
She was woozy from the wine, but more than that, she felt herself on the precipice of some important discovery.
“But wait,” she breathed. “Indeed I am not.” She broke into laughter, and impulsively stood and twirled about before seizing Mary by the hand.
“My dear friend, I do not think I am, it is really true! But how did this happen?”
Mary laughed and fixed Fanny with a knowing look. “You mean to say, you were?”
“I was,” Fanny admitted, resuming her seat beside Mary. After the great rush of her realization, she turned serious. “Oh, Mary, please say you do not blame me for it.”
“Blame you? No, dearest, not at all. Indeed, I half-suspected it all along—but how can you not despise me?”
“I do not blame you, either—how could I? You are charming and lovely, and it is no surprise that any man should prefer you, just as I am sure Henry must prefer Maria still—oh!”
“Oh,” Mary repeated. “Oh, poor dear Fanny. You are quite mixed up, are you not?” She embraced her friend, and Fanny leaned into her.
“Indeed I am!”
“But you seem to think you are past your attachment to Edmund? But you must credit that to Henry, of course!”
“I suppose—I had not thought of it that way—but I only just realized…. I am still quite astonished at myself,” Fanny said with wonder. She sipped at the Madeira again, smiling widely. “I am sure of it, I am quite over him. But I must not deprive Mrs. Jennings of her share of the credit.”
Mary grinned back at her. “I am glad to hear it—that you are quite over Edmund—and indeed I must own to the same sentiment. I can be just as candid as you, Fanny Price! It is hardly surprising, anyhow, for all Edmund’s sulking since we have come to Norland!
His moods were really very foul when first we came, and he has used us both very ill. ”
“Oh, yes—I mean, no! Well, he was solicitous of me, but in a way I did not much like. I was very cross he would no longer confide in me—and rather wounded, besides.”
“And so was I,” Mary agreed. She took the decanter from Fanny and clutched it to her chest for a moment, laughing heartily before she took another draught of wine. “My, but it is good to speak to someone of these things—bless Mrs. Jennings!”
“Oh yes, she is so kind and clever,” Fanny said.
“She certainly is,” Mary said, and she tapped Fanny playfully on the knee. “And now I will tell you something very shocking, for it is just what Mrs. Jennings would wish!”
“I am sure,” Fanny laughed.
“Well then—Fanny, I do believe I am falling in love.”
“I know.” Reaching for the Madeira, Fanny giggled as her friend feigned astonishment.
“I am sure I have been very circumspect,” Mary said, making a droll face.
“No indeed! I saw you drop your sheet music when he came upon us in the drawing room. You had not seen him lingering in the doorway, watching you play your harp, for your eyes were closed. Oh, he was utterly transfixed, and you were sitting in the sunlight, lit up like an angel. I am sure everyone in the room felt something—and then when you saw him, and I saw your reaction—I have never seen anything like that, but it is enough to make one believe in love at first sight!”
Mary blushed and wiggled her shoulders in a gesture of excitement.
“That is just what Mrs. Jennings said—but Fanny, I think you are right! It is entirely against my character, and it even vexed me a little at first, but I quite lost my wits over him. I could scarcely speak sensibly to him at first, but he was so very kind. And really quite fascinating! Is he not the handsomest man you have ever seen? Such eyes, such a jawline, and his lips—well! And I like his hair so much.”
“Oh—well—he is very grand, and….”
Mary laughed. “Such feeble praise as this will not do—but I shall attend to it myself. He is very clever and truly, truly honorable—he feels very deeply. And he is so attractive!” She let out a low growl.
“Really, Fanny, I should hardly own to half the thoughts…. but he is just what a gentleman ought to be. Ha! I should never have imagined feeling so very smitten; I am really grown quite silly over it all, as I never have been before. Silly and wanton!”
Fanny ignored what Mary called wantonness, and regarded the sheer joy on her friend’s face as Mary spoke of the man she admired. This, she was sure, she had never felt for anybody, but she dearly wished to. “What is it like, being in love?”
“It is wonderful and frightening, Fanny. It is the greatest of thrills, I am sure. Oh, how I wish such happiness for you!”
“Hmm,” Fanny sighed. If love was frightening, perhaps she might be attached to Henry after all.
But no, she was sure she was not. She had not the heart to admit it to Mary, despite being a little half-sprung, but she felt a tremendous relief each time Mr. Rushworth came to her aid and extricated her from Henry’s company.
She sipped at the wine again, unwilling to consider, at such a moment, what that might portend.