Chapter Eighteen #6
Susan grinned, and nudged her shoulder against Fanny’s as she leaned in to whisper, “A clever friend you have, Fanny. I like her very well!”
As Susan and Mrs. Jennings went into the shop, Mr. Rushworth offered Fanny his arm. “Would you like to walk on?”
The sun was beginning to go down, and there was less activity on the wharves at this hour; it was all very tranquil, and just as beautiful as she remembered.
She gazed out at the sea and smiled. “Why not?” Fanny linked her arm through his, trying not to let Susan’s advice affect her.
And yet, she could scarcely think of anything else.
“Is everything as you remember it?”
“Oh my, no. It is like looking at all my childhood memories through the eyes of a stranger, for nothing is quite like I recalled. It is familiar, and it is all still very dear, but… well, think of your favorite room at Sotherton, and then imagine someone came in the night and moved every object in the room six inches to the left. It is the same, just a little… off.”
“You are not the same yourself, I suppose,” he said thoughtfully.
“No, I am not. I am sure they can all feel it.”
“They are proud of you. I wish I could be so fortunate as to be surrounded by so many people who thought so highly of me. I am sure I would not bear it with such grace and humility, as you do.” Fanny began to protest, but he laid his hand on hers, and she instantly fell silent.
“Listen, Fanny. Let me say this. I know you do not like praise—I have heard it said on more than one occasion, but I do not think that is quite right. You do not like flattery, which is not quite the same thing. A high estimation of your character, even your person, when sincerely expressed, is only proof that you are valued and cherished. To enjoy such praise as this is not wrong, not when it is given in such a spirit of love.”
“Oh.” Fanny let out a shaky breath. “Nobody has ever said anything like that to me before. Mrs. Jennings can be very insightful, but….” She stopped walking and looked up at Mr. Rushworth, whose hand was still covering hers. “I have never heard you speak like that before, sir.”
He shrugged. “I have never before supposed anybody would like to hear such things. But with you—well, you rather draw it out of me. You are very different from everybody else I know. It makes me think differently about the world and about myself. I hope you do not mind my saying so.”
“No, not at all—I am glad you would be so honest.”
Mr. Rushworth smiled warmly at her. “So—I have not said the wrong thing?”
Fanny laughed and shook her head. “I have never thought you did, but least of all now. I always enjoy our conversations. Perhaps there has been some difference since we came to Norland—I think we have both been a little different since then.”
“I hope I am improved in my judgement,” he said after a brief pause. “You, Fanny, are absolutely blooming.” He finally lifted his hand from hers, and gestured for them to walk on.
Fanny laughed and looked away; perhaps it was only the wine from dinner, or the spectacular sunset, but she was feeling a strange fluttering sensation that was neither comfortable nor unpleasant.
She felt the familiar sense of wishing to rise to some sort of challenge, as she had often been wont to do in recent days, and she held his arm a little tighter.
“Perhaps you are, too,” she said with a teasing smile. “You quoted Mr. Cowper very prettily this morning, and I have never heard you do such a thing before.”
Mr. Rushworth dropped his arm down, and for an instant Fanny feared she had offended him, but he took her hand in his, their fingers entwining.
“No lady has ever inspired me to quote poetry before, that much is true,” he said, his voice soft and pensive.
“It seemed such a natural thing at the time; I hardly knew what I was about. I suppose I must begin to trust my instincts. What do you think?”
Fanny could scarcely speak what she thought, for the sun had dropped low in the sky, and as she peered up at Mr. Rushworth in the falling twilight, she really thought he might kiss her. And she thought she would like it very much if he did.
When she made no response, but held his gaze in mounting anticipation, Mr. Rushworth slowly raised his free hand and brushed his fingers along her cheek, waiting for her reaction.
She closed her eyes, relishing the gesture, and allowed a wide smile to spread across her face.
It was all the encouragement she was ready to give, but she hoped he understood her, as she suddenly began to understand herself.
Fanny and Mr. Rushworth did not walk much further, for Mrs. Jennings soon caught them up, and she was eager to return to the house with the candies and trinkets she had purchased for all the Prices.
The children had been sent to bed, but Mrs. Price received the gifts with effusive thanks, seeming in much better humor with the house calm and quiet at last.
The carriage was called for and Fanny’s companions took their leave, promising to return early in the morning to visit before their return to Norland, and when they had gone, Susan and Fanny were sent off to bed with a kiss from their mother.
Susan’s bedtime preparations were simpler than Fanny’s, and she was already in bed and half-asleep by the time Fanny joined her.
Fanny took her time dressing for bed, not only because it was her custom, and because she had not the exhaustion from hours of domestic labor, as Susan did, but chiefly because she had so much to think upon.
Her visit to the home of her youth had brought on a powerful sense of nostalgia, as well as some rather serious concerns—yet all this was pushed aside in her mind for consideration later.
At present she could only think of Mr. Rushworth’s hand on her face.
He had been too much a gentleman to try anything further, and she felt a heat in her chest at the notion that perhaps she was not enough of a lady to resist wishing he had.
She had given him leave to use her Christian name in a moment of high anxiety, and yet he had spoken it with such tenderness on their walk together, such timid intimacy…
it had stirred her heart as much as holding his hand, and she was astonished at her own silliness over the encounter.
When she finally joined Susan in her bed they were to share, she crept in quietly after blowing out the candle, but Susan was not quite asleep yet.
Susan rolled over and smiled without opening her eyes. She nestled closer to Fanny and gave a soft, sly sort of laugh. “I saw you and him, walking together. I saw you holding hands.”
Fanny let out a shaky breath, and allowed herself a moment of giggling with her sister over it. “I was not expecting it.”
“Doves and trumpets, you big idiot.”