Chapter Twenty #2
Prudence responded with an exaggerated huff.
“I really have grown quite bored with this whole affair! I always meant to look out for your interests, of course, but I must say Sir Thomas has not been a very worthy opponent at all, and his son a complete disappointment to me. I had so hoped it would be a challenge, that is just what I like. I was obliged to resort to other methods to keep it all interesting.”
“Aunt!”
“Well, I cannot help myself, Margaret! A woman’s lot in life can grow so very dull if one does not endeavor to add some spice.”
“What have you done?”
“Oh, I have made one or two enhancements to the plan. After you came back from Portsmouth and told me to pull the trigger on it, I wrote to the papers. My attorneys assure me it is all very ironclad on the legal side of things, so there is no risk in it, and Lady Bertram actually gave me leave to attach her name to the corroborating details; it appeared in the society pages this morning.”
Margaret’s eyes went wide. “Oh! But poor Hobbs took such an upbraiding from John when there were no newspapers at breakfast this morning.”
“Well, I could not have John and Sir Thomas forewarned of my intentions! But do not despair, Mr. Hobbs has been compensated for his enterprise, and is quite looking forward to the regime change.”
“So….” Margaret cast a skeptical glance around them. “So all these guests are likely already aware…?”
“Quite probably! John and Sir Thomas will not be able to deny the truth when I make the big announcement; they shall have no credibility whatever.”
“What if someone speaks to them about it, before?”
“That would be unconscionably rude of them,” Prudence harrumphed. “Nobody would dare!”
Margaret nodded her agreement. “There is more, is there not?”
“Oh, one other thing I ought to prepare you for—Miss Lucy Steele.”
“You mean Lucy Sterne?”
“There is no Lucy Sterne, I made all that up to rattle Fanny Dashwood—what fun! No, Lucy Steele is who I have invited. She and Edward Ferrars have been engaged these five years, so her presence here should certainly keep the level of excitement just where I like it.”
Margaret had halted in her steps at Prudence’s side. “Aunt, is this true?”
Prudence regretted her nonchalance, and pressed Margaret’s hand in hers. “It is, my dear—I ought to have delivered the blow more softly.”
“I am very fond of Edmund—Elinor has made the right choice—but Edward! I am wounded, Aunt. He came amongst us last summer and behaved as he did, and all the while he was secretly betrothed to another. That is even more shocking than his compromising Julia.”
“I rather hear Julia compromised him,” Prudence quipped.
“I hardly think it necessary or appropriate to bring her here. It is strange enough that Elinor and Edward should be announcing their engagements to other people tonight—and to siblings, at that—but surely Miss Steele will make a scene of it. You cannot wish that, not for Elinor’s sake.”
“She is made an heiress tonight—surely her former beau’s embarrassment will not be such a black mark upon the occasion. But Fanny Dashwood’s attention will be quite divided when she is made to deal with her brother’s disgrace, and she will be less opposition in the other great matter.”
“I thought you preferred a challenge,” Margaret reminded her.
“Oh, did I say that? I mean amusement, my dear. And I am sure tonight will be a memorable occasion.”
Fanny Price was anxious at her inclusion in the receiving line, but Sir Thomas reminded her that though there were to be two engagements announced at dinner, she had always been intended to be the guest of honor.
“I am glad you have had your come-out,” he told her as they moved away, once they had done their duty and all the guests had proceeded to the ballroom.
“Thank you, sir,” Fanny replied.
“I am certain this is only the beginning of a bright and happy future for you,” he said wistfully. “I want you to know, whatever happens, that I am very proud, very happy for you.”
Fanny smiled. Sir Thomas had been rather firm with her when Mr. Crawford had been pressing his suit, but she was relieved her uncle was still pleased with her. “Thank you, again. That is very kind.”
“Well, they are calling the first dance already! But you are still to open, my dear—save us the trouble of making any distinction between the two happy couples—you must go and find your partner.”
Fanny looked around, and happily caught sight of Mr. Rushworth making his way toward her.
“Fanny,” he sighed as he approached. “Good Heavens, I only just realized I never asked you for your first set—I thought of it a hundred times, I am sure, but never actually said so! I hope you are not already promised?”
“No,” Fanny replied, smiling up at him. He had made quite an effort with his appearance, and while the effect was very pleasing, she began to feel almost too affected. “That is, I rather presumed the first set to be yours, after all our practicing together.”
“Yes,” he agreed. “That is just what I had thought, too, though I ought to have said so! But I am glad we have had four days of good practice, for if we are to open I should hate to do you any discredit.”
Fanny shook her head with bemusement. “I should hate to hear you talk that way!”
“Then let me say this.” Mr. Rushworth grinned. “You may recall our conversation in Portsmouth—I told you that you ought to accept praise, when given in the spirit of love—do you recall?”
Feeling the strange fluttering in her chest intensify, Fanny nodded her head.
The dance was beginning, and she attempted to mind her steps, as she and Mr. Rushworth were to lead the way.
But she could only think of what he seemed to mean—what she had not realized at the time that he had meant in Portsmouth.
Fanny pushed aside her confusion and met his eye as they went through the movements of the dance. “Yes, I remember,” she managed to say.
“Well then, you must allow me to tell you that you look radiant tonight. And you must promise me the supper set as well.”
She felt all the implication of what he really meant; she looked away, hoping to compose herself well enough to make some reply that was just encouraging enough, without being too bold.
However, she was instantly distracted, for she caught Mary’s eye as they went down the dance.
Mary was partnered with Robert Ferrars, whom she had made no secret of disliking, and she screwed up her face as Fanny moved that way.
Fanny laughed in spite of herself—a glance at Mr. Rushworth told her he had seen it as well, and the intensity between them dissolved into an easy sense of private amusement.
A moment later, Fanny had collected herself enough to say, “I thank you—for what you said before. I will admit that I am still very new to being the recipient of so much praise, but I am coming to enjoy it very much. You must only be a little patient with me—I hope I shall warm to such praise, and learn to give a little back.”
Mr. Rushworth smiled as he did when he was very well-pleased with himself—it was an expression she had not often seen him with until recently, and knowing she had inspired such an endearing look stirred something in her heart.
“I think we understand each other very well,” he whispered to her.
After what he had said, and the dances he had asked for, she was sure they did. For now she was happy to simply soak in the moment, and she spent the rest of the set enjoying his company as she might never have imagined possible a fortnight before.
When the dance was over, Mr. Rushworth and Fanny took some refreshment together, and Mary sought Fanny out after extricating herself from Robert Ferrars. Maria and Mr. Crawford trailed behind Mary; they approached with some hesitation as Mary exclaimed over Fanny’s fine looks and superior dancing.
Though Mr. Crawford has ceased his particular attentions to Fanny since her return from Portsmouth, Mary’s friendship had not faltered. In fact, Fanny strongly suspected she had Mary to thank for Mr. Crawford actually apologizing for the discomfort he had caused her.
Mr. Crawford approached Mr. Rushworth and extended his hand.
“Come now, I think we had better agree to be friends, or Mary and Fanny will be quite cross with us. Besides, I am sure it is four or five days at least since either of us has annoyed the other.” He made a droll face as he held out his hand.
“Four days, perhaps,” Mr. Rushworth said drily, but a moment later he smiled. “A joke,” he explained, and shook Mr. Crawford’s hand. Mary and Fanny shared a look of mirth and a cheeky laugh.
Even Maria cracked a smile. “You look very lovely tonight, Cousin Fanny. Truly.”
Fanny smiled back, determined to simply accept the compliment in the spirit it was given. “Thank you, Maria.”
With so much merriment about her, Fanny found it hard to imagine that there had been a time, and not so very long ago, when she would have thought it inconceivable to take so much pleasure in a ball, or any evening with her present companions.
She felt what she was beginning to understand must be a sense of belonging, of deserving such things as she had only just begun allowing herself to desire; she had learnt, at last, to be happy.
Mary Crawford found Mr. Rushworth a more pleasing partner in the second set than Robert Ferrars had been in the first. Mr. Ferrars’ conversation had been a litany of complaints about his own ill-usage, and his disappointment in his elder brother, Miss Julia, and the heiress who had failed to materialize in their midst. After this, Mr. Rushworth would have always been a happy relief, but the Mr. Rushworth who appeared to be in love with her friend was a very desirable partner for Mary.