Retirement, rural quiet, friendship, books.

And thought of the three Miss Owens, and how different they were from Mary Crawford.


Thursday 29 December

This has been perhaps the happiest week of my life. To have finally fulfilled my destiny and become ordained has left me feeling at peace with the world.

‘We are so proud of you both,’ said Mrs. Owen this evening over dinner. ‘You are both fine additions to the clergy.’

‘Yes, indeed,’ said Mr. Owen. ‘The church needs young people like you, forward-thinking young men with ideas and energy. Men who will lead by setting a good example to their parishioners, and who will restore the clergy to its proper respectability. There has been too much easy living of late; too much ignoring of parish duties; too many clergymen inclined to take their ease and let others do the work. They do not seem to realize that it is in the work of the church that its future lies. You young men have a chance to make a difference, to enhance your parishioners’ lives with your judgment, example and understanding, and to set the tone of the country for generations to come.’

‘Yes, indeed,’ said Mrs. Owen.

‘I only hope my brother might soon have a living. You have one, I understand, Mr. Bertram,’ said Miss Owen who had grown very pretty.

‘I have, at Thornton Lacey,’ I told her.

‘Thornton Lacey! What a coincidence. We passed through there on our way to Aunt Hester’s in October. I remember it well. The rectory was a gentleman’s residence, and the parish was a good size. Do you mean to live there?’ she asked me.

‘Yes, I do. I can see no point in going into my parish only to read the sermons.’

‘Good, good,’ said Mr. Owen approvingly.

‘And is the house well situated?’ asked Mrs. Owen.

‘Oh, yes,’ said Miss Owen, before I could answer. ‘To be sure, the farm could perhaps be moved, but the situation is admirable. The house is very fine, quite the finest house in the neighborhood, and the view is very pretty. There is a dear little garden, with meadows beyond, and a stream—’ She realized she had said too much and relapsed into silence, blushing. I found myself wishing that Mary could have been as well pleased with the house, but Mary was of a different kind from Miss Owen. I remembered her insulting words at the ball : A clergyman is nothing... can do nothing... be no one... easily satisfied... no ambition... a real man makes his mark in the world....

I was so busy thinking of her that I did not realize Mr. Owen was speaking to me. I brought my thoughts back from their own paths in time to hear Mr. Owen say, ‘You have been fortunate.’

‘Indeed I have.’

‘And how are your friends the Crawfords?’ asked Owen, as the conversation moved away from the church. ‘The Crawfords are the brother and sister of Dr Grant,’ he explained to his family.

‘Mr. Crawford has an estate in Norfolk, and Miss Crawford is an heiress. A beautiful and intelligent young woman by all accounts. Are they still at Mansfield?’

‘For the present, but they will not be there for much longer. Miss Crawford is going to stay in London for an extended visit.’

‘She will be staying with her uncle?’ asked Owen.

‘No, with her friend, a Mrs. Fraser.’

There was a short pause, then Mrs. Owen said, ‘It seems a shame that you should have to hurry back to Mansfield tomorrow, Mr. Bertram, we have seen so very little of you. will you not do us the very great favor of staying another week?’

I thought of Mansfield and I knew that Mary would not yet have left, so that if I returned as planned I would be forced into company with her. I found I did not want to see her again. What use would it be for me to torment myself with the sight of her, when I knew she would never marry me? For she would not be satisfied until she had a house in town and a husband who was universally acclaimed.

And then I thought of Owen’s house, with his welcoming family and his pretty sisters, and I said,

‘You are very kind. I would like to stay above all things.’

Mrs. Owen smiled.

‘Then it is settled,’ she said.

1809 JANUARY

Thursday 5 January

‘Your sister Maria is newly married, I understand?’ said Mrs. Owen, as I walked through the village with the family this morning.

‘Yes, she is, to Mr. Rushworth.’

‘He is a man of considerable property, I believe. Your mother must be very pleased. I would not stand in the way of my daughters if their feelings called them to such a marriage, but I confess I would rather see them married to clergymen. They would make such good clergymen’s wives, all of them. They have been used to helping their father about the parish, visiting the sick and the elderly, helping with the children, sewing clothes, giving advice, and of course now they will be able to help their brother, too. Do you have anyone to help you in your parish, Mr. Bertram?’

I could not misunderstand her, and let her know, in a roundabout fashion, that I was not in a position to marry, for although I had wanted to marry Mary, I had no desire to marry any of the Miss Owens, no matter how pretty they were.

‘But you will be, one day,’ she said. ‘I hope you may find a pretty and useful wife to support you, a young woman who will bring gladness to your life, and turn your Parsonage into a home. There is more to life than work, however noble the calling and, as I often say to my son, he must not neglect his future in the busy application of the present. But come, we have fallen behind the others, we will have to hurry if we are to catch them before they turn into the lane.’

We soon drew level with them. Owen was walking next to Miss Anne, and his father was walking next to Miss Lucy.

‘Jane, dear, you look fatigued,’ said Mrs. Owen.

I offered Miss Owen my arm, which she took with a smile, and then I offered her mother my other arm. She took it, and thus arranged, we headed home.

I made sure to raise no expectations in Miss Owen, and this evening I paid attention to her two sisters, to make my intentions clear: having given her mother a hint that I was not ready to settle, I felt it incumbent upon me to give Miss Owen a hint likewise. But I could not help thinking that it would be a lucky man who won her, for her kind of beauty, elegance and sweet nature are seldom met with.


Tuesday 10 January

My visit came to an end this morning. The Owens sent me off with good wishes, with Mrs. Owen telling me I must stay with them whenever I should find myself in the neighborhood, and Mr. Owen seconding her invitation. Owen rode with me as far as Peterborough, where he left me, and I went on alone. The weather remained fine, with a piercing blue sky and sharp shadows, but it was bitingly cold, and I was glad of the exercise to keep me warm. As I neared Mansfield I was glad I did not have to fear meeting Miss Crawford, for her satirical comments on my new status would have been hard to bear. To be laughed at before I was a clergyman had been hard enough; to be laughed at when my ambition was accomplished would have been far worse. I had so far schooled myself to forgetting her, that when I saw her walking through the village with her brother I was astonished. I was forced to stop, and I steeled myself to her satirical words. But I was surprised to hear her saying, in the most affable manner, ‘Mr. Bertram! This is a welcome surprise. You have been very much missed.’

My thoughts were sent reeling. What did it mean? Had she been thinking about what I had said?

Had her natural justice done what her hastiness could not, and shown her the truth of my words? And had they been strong enough to do away with her unreasonable prejudices?

The smile that accompanied her words was so radiant it gave me cause to hope. I returned her greeting, and rode on to Mansfield Park with my spirits singing. She was still at Mansfield! And she had greeted me warmly! And with such a smile! She had decided — perhaps she had decided — that the church was an honorable calling; and that true friendship, and more than friendship, outweighed all other considerations. But whatever the case, of one thing I could be certain: she had missed me!

There was more good news when I reached home. Once I had greeted my family, I settled myself by the fire, ready to hear all the Mansfield news. I was hoping, too, to hear why Miss Crawford and her brother were still in the neighborhood.

‘What do you think, Edmund?’ asked my aunt. ‘William has been made a lieutenant.’

It was the best possible news for Fanny, and her looks spoke her happiness. I forestalled my aunt, who would have given me every particular, by asking Fanny to tell me all about it, and I soon learned that William had been helped to his good fortune by Admiral Crawford, at Henry’s instigation.

‘Fanny, this is a wonderful thing,’ I said, delighted at her happiness.

‘Oh, yes, Edmund, is it not?’ she said. ‘William was so worried about being passed over, but Mr. Crawford took him to dine with the Admiral, and the Admiral bestirred himself, with the result that William is now second Lieutenant of HM sloop Thrush.’

‘And never a young man deserved it more! But how good of Crawford to help him!’

Fanny blushed, but it was not until after dinner, when I sat over the port with my father, that I learned the cause of her blushes. No youthful colorings these, for in my absence Henry Crawford had proposed to her!

I could not believe it at first, but when I had grasped it, I thought it was an excellent thing, for it meant that Fanny and I would not be parted. When I married Mary — if I married Mary; if her smiles had told me what her heart felt — and Fanny married Henry, then we would be united through two bonds, and would be together forever. Mary would want to visit Henry at his own estate, and what could be more natural than that we should go for lengthy visits, when I would have not only the pleasure of gratifying Mary’s wishes to see her brother, but my own wishes to see my dearest Fanny? And in return, they would come and stay with us at Thornton Lacey. I was about to express my wholehearted delight in the engagement when my father hesitated, and said, ‘There is just one thing I find it hard to comprehend. Fanny has refused him.’