Chapter Sixteen #4
“Surely you would not mind letting me take your place, in the carriage with Mamma and Aunt Norris,” Julia beseeched Fanny.
“Mr. Ferrars drove wickedly fast and rather reckless all the way down, though I begged him not to. My bonnet flew off not five minutes into our journey, and he would not even stop and allow me to collect it—he actually laughed,” Julia huffed.
“It was brand new, you know—I had only worn it once, and it is gone forever now—I am really rather cross with him.”
Fanny was happy to relinquish her place, and happier still that she might be spared any further admonishment from Mrs. Norris, who had found much fault with Fanny’s playing at football, though she did not disapprove of anyone else undertaking the activity.
“But surely you would not take Julia’s place in the open barouche,” Mary cried.
“Mrs. Jennings and I meant to ride again with Lady Bertram and Mrs. Norris—but I am not sure but you and Julia could fit. I suppose we shall have to attempt it—you would not like to ride with Mr. Ferrars, and imagine Henry’s shock to see you returning in such a fashion! ”
Mr. Rushworth was standing near them, and he stepped forward to extend his hand to Fanny. “But you must ride in my carriage, Miss Price. I had meant to ask you before—but you must come back with me.”
Fanny needed little encouragement to accept, but Julia thanked her and hurried away to claim Fanny’s seat, and Mary gave Fanny a quick embrace before following Julia.
“I am sorry to lose your company for an hour, but I take heart in knowing that young Margaret will be praising your heroics at football all the way back to Norland.”
This was not to be, however, for after Mr. Rushworth handed his mother, Margaret Dashwood, and her two daughters into the carriage, he climbed up top, and offered his hand to Fanny once more.
“Oh,” she cried in some surprise. “I had not thought….” In truth, she could think of no good reason to protest. Julia and Maria had made much of the idea of riding on top, when they had all travelled from Mansfield to Sotherton in August—though Mr. Crawford, and not the fine view, had been their object.
Still, Fanny thought it a privilege she would never have expected, and the company rather better, too.
“You will not be too knocked up, I hope, riding up here with me?” Mr. Rushworth offered her a look of concern as they began to ride away from the village.
Fanny gave a little grimace—it was just what Edmund would say, and she was struck with the realization that she had never much liked his constant assumption that she was weak, as if she was really an inferior creature.
“You forget, Mr. Rushworth, I am a great hero of folk football—even now young Margaret is composing a ballad in my honor, if Mary is to be believed.”
“Oh, I shall never forget that,” he replied. He smiled at her, and then screwed up his face. “A sea shanty.”
“Pardon?”
“Miss Crawford said young Margaret is to be a pirate—which I will admit seems strangely—plausible….”
Fanny sputtered with laughter. “What a fine joke, Mr. Rushworth.”
He looked at her incredulously. “Really?”
“Indeed! I could well imagine our mutual cousin composing a sea shanty, only in her telling things I am not kicking footballs, but firing cannonballs or the like.”
“She would likely have you as first mate. I should only end up swabbing the deck, whatever that means.”
Fanny giggled at her companion’s unexpected whimsy. “I am very glad to be riding up here, and not on a great ship on the sea. My brother likes it well enough, but I should think it very frightening.”
“Especially so if Margaret were Captain.”
“Ah,” Fanny laughed. “We are terribly wicked!”
“But are you enjoying the view?”
“Very much—it is marvelous!”
“Good. I am also glad you are here, and not at peril on the sea! But as we are being silly and wicked, I must confess to some small secondary motive in asking you to sit with me here.”
“Oh?”
Mr. Rushworth laughed to himself. “My mother and I rode out to meet our cousins at Petworth when we all rode down together. Cousin Marianne was a little impatient with me—well, I was in a sorry state of humor—but an hour in, she and Mr. Willoughby quit the carriage to ride atop—I was rather embarrassed at making myself so disagreeable. At any rate, Marianne has been in such a state herself today—and I really am sorry for her, you know, though it seems it may work out well in the end—but I could not resist the impulse to repay her in kind. So, I have made my escape from her lamentations, and with the finest company out of the whole party.”
Fanny blushed and giggled again. “Really, Mr. Rushworth! By and by, you do astonish me!”
“I believe I do,” he said, laughing nervously. “I fear I shall make you swoon—but perhaps you are only dizzy from riding up so high. Are you well, Miss Price?”
Fanny offered her protector a wide grin as she answered.
“I am very well—only what a day it has been! I have been to the seaside, I have ordered a ball gown fit for a princess, played football, and now I am here with you, and I am not nearly as shocked at any of it as I might have been a week ago! I think I have run mad.”
Mr. Rushworth smiled warmly back at her then threw back his head and laughed. “Run mad as often as you choose, Miss Price, but please—do not faint.”