Chapter Two #3
“Then you are too much a coward to call this what it is.” Edmund had never spoken thus to his father before, and where he might have expected to anger him into some fury, Edmund had only wounded a weary, broken old man.
And yet, such discomfort must be the result of his own actions.
Edmund felt more for himself, and for his mother and sisters, who would be blameless in the face of whatever befell them should Sir Thomas’ folly be made known.
Greater still was the pain of losing all respect for his father.
But it was not Edmund’s fate that hung in the balance, though his peace of mind was shattered. “Surely you will not go back on your word—after everything you said about Rushworth, how could you force Maria to marry him?”
“How indeed,” Sir Thomas said, his voice a gravelly murmur. “Such as my own history is, I am keenly reviled by the notion of treating my own daughter as Mary Sterling’s father treated her. To be forced into a match without affection could lead to the worst sort of folly.”
Despite the mournful shake of his father’s head, Edmund was affronted.
“Think of what you are saying, sir! Surely you do not mean to suggest that Maria would show the same disregard for her marriage vows.” He considered their theatrical, Lover’s Vows, and the excessive amounts of rehearsing Maria and Crawford had done; but he ought not presume the worst, nor should their father.
“I mean that I do not wish to consign her to a lifetime of misery,” Sir Thomas said, pounding his fist on the desk. Here was some of his ordinary ire, though it soon ebbed away, and after a moment he seemed to withdraw once more.
“Of course, Father,” Edmund said gently. “I would be much surprised if you were to force her hand. Before today, I would not have thought you capable of any such cruelty—I only fear that Mrs. Rushworth’s knowledge must give you no other option.”
“The only other option is to let her out with it all, the whole sordid business. It would break your mother’s heart, tarnish my girls, the family name… and John would lose everything.”
Edmund’s feelings were in upheaval, and it took every bit of concentration he could muster to subdue them.
Though his conscience told him that his father was all to blame for such an unfortunate crisis, Edmund was not past the pity of a son who had long esteemed his father.
“I wish that you did not have to suffer such a choice before you,” he said evenly, when at last he had mastered himself.
“It seems you must disoblige one of your children, and must be the chooser of the pain inflicted. John disinherited, or Maria married to an imbecile she cannot love.”
Here Sir Thomas shook his head. “Would Crawford really marry her?”
Though Edmund had wondered the same, he was suspicious of his father’s motive in asking.
Such an argument might be used to justify steering Maria back to Rushworth, and Edmund could not like it.
“I have no reason to distrust Henry Crawford, though I must say, Father, that whether or not Crawford will have her, Maria will not have Rushworth. If Crawford were to jilt her—which I cannot call likely—it would still be better that Maria remain unwed until she finds a worthy man, than wed off to Rushworth, as if they were the only two men in England.”
Sir Thomas betrayed the barest trace of a smile. “Your counsel is sound—sage, even. I am glad I sought it. It is true, Maria’s options might be far beyond the first two gentlemen to cross her path.”
“And yet, to ensure her happiness, you must forfeit my mother’s.” The resentment he felt threatened to boil over; perhaps his mother’s feelings never mattered to his father—his vows clearly did not.
“And John’s.”
It was the worst possible thing Sir Thomas could have said—all but confirming Edmund’s thoughts.
He shifted in the chair, resting his chin in his hands, his posture displeased and defiant.
“Forgive me if your bastard is not foremost in my concern, sir. He has been given every advantage, and yet I know little of him, and less good. Even believing himself Uncle Henry’s son, he is as much relation to the Prices as we, and has done nothing for them since his majority.
He has had little to do with us since his marriage, and I think even there his choice of wife speaks volumes upon his character.
Though I know not whether Mrs. Rushworth is to be trusted in her assertions, I understand even his Dashwood sisters have been cast out of Norland—has such a man as this an equal claim on your mercy as Maria?
I say this knowing fully that I defend my sister at the expense of my mother, but I believe it is what is right. She is the most innocent.”
Though clearly not what he wished to hear, Sir Thomas bore his son’s harsh verdict with stoic forebearance; that is, he appeared no more defeated than he had done the quarter hour before.
“Again you speak well, son. Everything you say is quite true. And yet, he is my son. And I will confess it, it seems an easier thing, in moments of weakness—Maria hating me from far away, rather than your mother despising me from within the house.”
Edmund felt his lip curl with disgust. “The easiest path is not always right. You taught me that.”