Chapter Seven #4
Having imparted the entirety of what John had communicated to her that afternoon, Fanny was desperate for some answer. Everything she had waited so long for, and all that she had only so recently come to possess, was slipping from her grasp.
“We must put my solicitor on it,” Mrs. Ferrars said. Though advanced in her years, the old widow was all vigor and alacrity, despite her current posture. “Do sit down, Fanny. You will ruin the rug.”
Fanny scarcely heard her mother, and began to wring her hands as she paced furiously. “We must make every preparation for the worst, and yet take every measure to prevent it.”
“Exactly so, my dear.” As Fanny looked over, her mother snapped her fingers to capture her attention. “I said sit. You will calm down if you come and sit here with me. Let us speak calmly and rationally.”
“At such a time as this?”
“Frances Augusta,” her mother thundered; Fanny complied at once.
“There now, I daresay you feel a little steadier already. As you say, we must think of every eventuality. We must expand your network of spies in the household, to begin with. It will not do for us to cozy up to our enemies, as they are sure to see through the gambit. But servants are of the greatest use in such matters—nobody sees them, and yet they see everything.”
Fanny took a deep breath and nodded her head; this much was true—already she had been informed that both Henry Crawford and Maria Bertram had conspicuously packed traveling bags that evening.
It was useful knowledge, for the mere purchase of a maid and a valet, and a few coins to the stable master had rendered the Crawford carriage utterly useless for the time being.
“Maria Bertram,” Fanny muttered. “She must be the key to it all. So long as Rushworth gets her, I am preserved.”
“Very true, my dear. You have immobilized her, and that is a fine beginning. What a shocking thing, that she would flee in the night with that rake! I can only wonder at Sir Thomas allowing his daughter to grow so spoilt—she had no right refusing this Rushworth fellow to begin with, even if he is rather a toad-eater,” Mrs. Ferrars barked.
“That is nothing to me,” Fanny spat. “The little chit ought not have given her word, only to break it. She is to blame for all this, and I should think Rushworth a fair punishment for her!”
“Then we must ensure that he gets his girl. I cannot trust this Mrs. Rushworth, she has such an evil look about her,” Mrs. Ferrars said bitterly.
“More’s the pity, else I might lend her some assistance in obtaining what she wants.
I say, we take the locks off Miss Bertram’s bedchamber door, and let the idiot go get what he wants in the dead of night.
Crawford would never have her after that. ”
“No,” Fanny said, shaking her head. “There can be no working with the Rushworths in this. He is the cousin of John’s step-mother. Margaret Dashwood has Prudence Rushworth eating from the palm of her hand; I am sure it is she who is pulling all the strings.”
“She is a pudding,” Mrs. Ferrars scoffed. She slanted her eyes at Fanny. “Perhaps it may have been different if you had not been so vocal in your disapproval of her daughter’s attachment to our Edward.”
Fanny stewed back, aghast. “Mother! How can you say such things to me, at such a time? I am sure you thought me quite right then, and I am sure I was. Elinor Dashwood is nobody—Edward must marry well. Really, I think Julia Bertram or Mary Crawford would do very well for him—whichever Robert does not like.”
“Elinor Dashwood may be the next mistress of Norland. Forgive me, Daughter, but you did say we must prepare for the worst.”
Fanny felt sick at her stomach, considering yielding Norland to her brother, and Elinor Dashwood taking her place.
“That cannot happen,” she screeched. “To be relegated as a visitor in my home! No, it must be prevented. If Edward knew what those grasping, artful people were about, he would want nothing to do with them!”
“Edward is far too moral to hold the truth against them,” Mrs. Ferrars said flatly, and Fanny knew she was right. “If you tell him of this matter, he will be all justice and honor—he is blood, but he would be no useful ally.”
This, too, was undeniable. Edward Ferrars was an utter disappointment to the rest of his family, lacking the ambition to distinguish himself, or even drive a barouche. “Elinor must not get her claws in Edward—or Norland.”
“Then Mr. Rushworth must be united with Maria Bertram as quickly as possible. Can not this Crawford fellow be tempted to stray? If he took a fancy to Elinor Dashwood, it would solve two problems at once.”
“We might endeavor to throw them together,” Fanny speculated, though she could not imagine how two such different temperaments might get on. “There is really nobody else suitable. The cousin, Edmund, is a very dour fellow, and does not speak to anybody.”
“That must be a virtue,” Mrs. Ferrars quipped.
“He has some previous acquaintance with Miss Crawford, which might be an obstacle for your brothers—I really think one of them ought to have her, if they can, and Robert was quite taken with her. She has too much vivacity for Edward, but Miss Julia Bertram might have some promise for him, though she faces the possible taint of scandal. We must move quickly, for your brothers’ sakes, as well as your own.
They must marry as soon as may be arranged, lest the scandal come out and ruin them through association. ”
It needled Fanny that her mother could think of Robert and Edward at such a time, when her need was the greatest. “So long as the Rushworth problem is squashed, there is no need to worry for them,” Fanny snapped.
“I wonder how you can think of Edward at all, after declaring that he should be little help to me. Really, I ought to turn everybody out of my house directly and have done with the whole affair.”
“You will do nothing of the sort. It would solve nothing, and likely provoke our enemies further. Keep them close at hand and keep a sharp eye on all of them. Do not forget, there are a great many legalities to be considered before we know the severity of this threat. John was named Henry Dashwood’s son, and the rest may matter very little. ”
“But of course, you are right,” Fanny cried, latching on to the thin hope.
“Lord, would that John had been more attentive at the reading of the will! But surely there cannot be sufficient proof to have his claim nullified so thoroughly. Yes, he has the Dashwood name.” Fanny clung to this notion, hoping it would be enough.
“Tomorrow, I will begin my efforts with Maria. I really would turn this Crawford fellow out of the house entirely, but his sister is such a catch for Robert!”
Mrs. Ferrars nodded. “Very good, Fanny. Well, you see, it is not so bad. I shall set my solicitors to work on the matter—all very hush-hush—and we shall put it all to right in a trice. Perhaps I might even send for Edward, once Elinor can be attached elsewhere. We shall begin directly tomorrow.”