Chapter Twelve #2
“Yes, of course. Only, not just yet, Aunt, please. I mean to write to Edward myself—surely he will come, if he knows Elinor is here. And if not—well, Edmund seems to be a very tender-hearted young man….”
“Well, they are not the only two young men in the land! Elinor, and indeed all your daughters might be as choosy as they like. Let us not tarry too long on it.” Prudence thumped her cane to emphasize her irritation.
She really did wish to get on with it already, and could not like Margaret’s shilly-shallying with guilt. What a useless emotion!
“Not too long, to be sure,” Margaret conceded. “Of course it must be done, if it would help my dear girls. But if Elinor does know, she must be permitted time to process the discovery. Promise me you will delay for a time, Aunt.”
“Good Heavens, what tender hearts all these young people must have. I cannot imagine it would spark aught but joy for her! But, very well. You know I am really quite soft—where my family is concerned. But James must have his justice, as much as the rest of you. Send for this Edward Ferrars, if you like. I shall bide my time.”
Prudence gave her niece a quick peck on the cheek and moved away, already plotting her next move.
Fanny Price was sorry to see her shopping excursion with Mary Crawford and Mrs. Jennings come to an end. Once she had gotten past the mortification of having so many things purchased for her, she had really grown quite content with her companions.
Mrs. Jennings had such a way of drawing Fanny out, putting her entirely at ease—she had never felt so comfortable with anybody.
Though it was Mrs. Jennings’ insurmountable kindness that had won Fanny over, she had come to respect the old widow’s cleverness as well, for it was not the sort of intellect she had ever encountered before.
Though Mrs. Jennings had first struck her as brash and indiscreet—a frightening combination—Fanny now saw a sort of emotional perspicacity about her, for Mrs. Jennings could cut through all of Fanny’s apprehensions and identify the source of her discomfort in a trice.
There was still some verbosity to cause her alarm, for Mrs. Jennings had taken notice of Henry Crawford’s sudden and unaccountable interest, and thought better of it than Fanny did—and even Miss Crawford seemed far too interested.
Fanny could scarcely begrudge Miss Crawford—it was natural of her to behave so graciously to a lady her brother had paid such marked attentions—and yet Fanny remained confounded and conflicted over it.
Despite the encouragement from her new friends, Fanny dreaded returning to Norland and facing Henry Crawford again. She might have been shy about such overt flirtation from any man, but Mr. Crawford was particularly alarming.
“You are very pensive, Miss Price,” Mrs. Jennings observed as they entered the manor.
“Come now, do not fret about it.” She drew Fanny away from Miss Crawford, who was drifting into the music room.
“Mr. Crawford is only the first gentleman to notice your many charms, my dear. The first of many, I daresay! If you do not fancy him, there is no shame in saying so—and I am sure dear Miss Crawford will not be so very angry with you.”
“That is a relief—but my uncle….”
“Pah! Let him grumble. Has not your Aunt Dashwood offered you her assistance? I know I have, and I quite meant it.”
“If I were….” Fanny chewed her lip, almost afraid to ask. “If I were obliged to refuse him—if it were to come to that—I could never accept—I cannot trust his motives, after seeing him with my cousin Maria….”
Mrs. Jennings gave Fanny a gentle embrace.
“Hush, dear. You will not be punished for having a mind of your own. Not on my watch, Miss Price. I would take you as a companion at once if Sir Thomas attempted anything so very boorish—but surely he means well! You have nothing to fear, and you are not used to such a condition as that. That is all. Oh, dear girl! You have not been accustomed to what you really deserve, and having it now makes you fear some dreadful calamity!”
“Why, yes—when you put it like that….”
“Well! But that is simply not so! Not at all! Sometimes, my dear, good things happen to good people. You must accept your own good fortune. Really, I ought to box Mrs. Norris’s ears—I am sure she is behind all this mischief of you thinking yourself so very inferior.
But you must see that you are not. You are among family here, and what a fine, grand family.
You are not friendless at all—indeed, you are a well-connected young lady with a pretty face and a gentle heart.
Just like a heroine from one of those novels you young people fancy! ”
“I do not know if I should like to be a heroine,” Fanny said with a scowl.
“Well! And what should you like?”
“I would like to be your companion.”
“Well, then you shall be! But let us not decide at once—I am sure you only want some time to acclimate yourself to society, and then some young man will catch your eye, and you shall forget all about me—and rightly so! Let it be a standing offer, and we shall speak of it before leaving Norland. But no need to hurry! Take heart, dear Fanny. You have the luxury of choice at present. Can you not like that?”
“I do not know.”
“Of course you do not! That is just what I mean. It is all so new—ah, to be young again! To see the world with such fresh eyes!”
Fanny smiled in spite of herself. Mrs. Jennings painted a very pretty picture, to be sure, but with the luxury of choice came the responsibility of causing as little pain as possible, and this gave Fanny pause. She did not wish to wound anyone who had been kind to her, not even Mr. Crawford.
“What am I to do?”
“Well, Fanny, dear, you must do as you like, that is the point. Consider it a sort of education, if you will. You seem a steady, serious girl—can you not look upon it as a form of self-improvement?”
“To enjoy myself?”
“Yes, yes! For you it is a skill you have yet to acquire—who does not love a good challenge?”
Fanny shook her head and laughed. “I have never heard selfishness described in such a way.”
“Selfishness? Oh dear, no. Not that! But this is what you must learn. It is not selfish to be content, to savor life’s possibilities—and to receive the attentions of a very handsome man!”
“But he has been courting my cousin!”
“Yes, this is true—I see what you mean. Well, Fanny, I shan’t marry you off to him on the morrow, for Heaven’s sake—but can you not try to learn from the experience?”
“Learn what, exactly?”
“The workings of your own heart!”
“Oh.” Fanny was struck by the enormity of such a concept.
For too long, her cousin Edmund had held a place in her heart that she knew she ought not have ever granted him.
Certainly he could not return the regard she had come to feel for him—he had made this very clear in recent days.
To expunge the feelings that had become so painful would certainly be a step toward self-improvement, though she doubted that even this would affect her opinion of Mr. Crawford.
And yet, what sort of man could she like, if not either of these?
But that must be the point. It was just what Edmund had advised, and for Mrs. Jennings to say the same must be a mark in favor of the scheme.
“I do see the wisdom in it,” Fanny conceded at last. “It frightens me, but I will attempt it.”
“Ah, good girl! And I will say this—a life without ever being frightened may be exceedingly dull!” Mrs. Jennings leaned in and gave Fanny a bold wink.
“Better to have some excitement, for there is no better age for it! Think on it, my dear, and take comfort in knowing that even if you stumble and fall, you are amongst friends who will catch you.”
Fanny blushed and smiled. “It will take some adjustment, as you say, but I am sure I must attempt it. Yes, my mind is made up.”
“Very good! Capital! Now, we have only the one ready-made gown, but you must wear it to dinner tonight, and ere long your other gowns will be ready! Take care when you dress—remember that you are not what you are wearing. You are still yourself, and you are just growing up, as all young girls must do. No heroine’s story is the same, but you must make what you can of yours. ”
Though she was more at ease than before, Fanny still trembled. It was not unpleasant, and she began to give in to the excitement that Mrs. Jennings had aroused in her heart.
Fanny did indeed take care as she dressed, and examined herself closely in the mirror afterward.
The pale pink gown flattered her coloring, according to Mrs. Jennings, and the rose hair pins Miss Crawford had bought her looked well in the elaborate hairstyle she wore.
Some of her anxiety over being so well adorned had passed, and Fanny was resolved to conquer the rest of it before showing her face downstairs.
She stared at her reflection long enough to acclimate herself with making such a fine appearance, and considered Mrs. Jennings’ kind words.
Her new friend—and even Miss Crawford—had paid her such warm praise of another nature as well, in the high estimation of her character.
This was the greatest adornment to Fanny, who would always choose to be good before looking good.
And yet, she might do both. She thought of her mother, who had resided here at Norland at Fanny’s age. She was not such an impostor, indeed.
She smiled at herself, giving the gown a pleasant spin. Indeed, this might really begin to be enjoyable. Calling it a learning experience was certainly accurate, for she had little knowledge yet of how to converse amongst company as a true equal, but she really began to think herself capable of it.