‘I do not have plans for myself,’ said he, ‘but I think Miss Crawford would be glad to have the chance to ride for a longer time. I am sure she would enjoy the circuit to Mansfield-common. But I am, of course, unwilling to check a pleasure of yours,’ he said quickly, perhaps aware of the dead silence now reigning in the room, and his mother’s black looks. ‘Indeed,’ he said, with sudden inspiration, turning to his cousins,‘why should not more of us go? Why should we not make a little party?’
All the young people were soon wild for the scheme, and even Fanny, once properly pressed and persuaded, eventually assented. Mrs Norris, on the other hand, was still trying to make up her mind as to whether there was any necessity that Miss Crawford should be of the party at all, but all her hints to her son producing nothing, she was forced to content herself with merely recommending that it should be Mr Bertram, rather than Mr Norris, who should walk down to the parsonage in the morning to convey the invitation. Edmund looked his displeasure, but did nothing to oppose her, and, as usual, she carried the point.
The ride to Mansfield-common took place two days later, and was much enjoyed at the time, and doubly enjoyed again in the evening discussion. A successful scheme of this sort generally brings on another; and the having been to Mansfield-common disposed them all for going some where else the day after, and four fine mornings successively were spent in this manner. Every thing answered; it was all gaiety and good-humour, the heat only serving to supply inconvenience enough to be talked of with pleasure, and to make every shady lane the more attractive. On the fifth day their destination was Stoke-hill, one of the beauties of the neighbourhood.Their road was through a pleasant country; and Mary was very happy in observing all that was new, and admiring all that was pretty. When they got to the top of the hill, where the road narrowed and just admitted two, she found herself riding next to Miss Price. The two of them continued silent, till suddenly, stopping a moment to look at the view, and observing that Mr Norris had dismounted to assist an old woman travelling homewards with a heavy basket, Miss Price turned to her with a smile. ‘Mr Norris is such a thoughtful and considerate gentleman! Always so concerned to appear civil to those of inferior rank, fortune, and expectations.’
Seeing that her companion was most interested to observe the effect of such a remark, Mary contented herself with a smile. Miss Price, however, seemed determined to continue their conversation, and after making a number of disdainful enquiries as to the cost of Mary’s gown, and the make of her shoes, she continued gaily, ‘You will think me most impertinent to question you in this way, Miss Crawford, but living in this rustic seclusion, I so rarely have the opportunity of making new acquaintance, especially with young women who are accustomed to the manners and amusements of London—or at least such entertainments as the public assemblies can offer.’
At this she gave Mary a look, which meant, ‘A public ball is quite good enough for
you
.’ Mary smiled. ‘In my experience, private balls are much pleasanter than public ones. Most public balls suffer from two insurmountable disadvantages—a want of chairs, and a scarcity of men, and as often as not, a still greater scarcity of any that are good for much.’
‘But that is exactly my own feeling on the subject! The company one meets at private balls is always
so
much more agreeable.’
‘As to that,’ replied Mary, ‘I confess I do not want people to be very agreeable, as it saves me the trouble of liking them a great deal.’
She hazarded a side glance at her companion at this, wondering whether she was as accustomed to being treated with contempt, as she was to dispensing it, but Miss Price seemed serenely unaware that such a remark could possibly refer to her.
‘Oh! My dear Miss Crawford,’ she said, ‘with so much to unite us, would it not be delightful to become better acquainted?’
To be better acquainted, Mary soon found, was to be her lot, whatever her own views on the matter. This was the origin of the second intimacy Mary was to enjoy at Mansfield, one that had little reality in the feelings of either party, and appeared to result principally from Miss Price’s desire to communicate her own far superior claims on Edmund, and teach Mary to avoid him.
The weather remained fine, and Mary’s rides continued. The season, the scene, the air, were all delightful, and as the days passed Mr Norris began to be agreeable to her. It was without any change in his manner—he remained as quiet and reserved as ever—but she found nonetheless that she liked to have him near her. Had she thought about it more, she might have concluded that the anxiety and confusion she had endured since her uncle’s death had made her particularly susceptible to the charms of placidity and steadiness; but for reasons best known to herself, Mary did not think very much about it. She had by no means forgotten Miss Price’s insinuations, and could not fail to notice Mrs Norris’s rather more pointed remarks; and in the privacy of the parsonage her brother continued to ridicule Edmund as both stuffy and conceited. He began a small collection of his more pompous remarks, which he noted down in the back of his pocket-book, and performed for his sisters with high glee, mimicking his victim’s rather prosing manner to absolute perfection. Perhaps Mary should have apprehended some thing of her own feelings from the growing disquiet she felt at this continued raillery, but unwelcome as it was, she chose rather to censure Henry’s lack of manners, than her own lack of prudence.
Mary rode every morning, and in the afternoons she sauntered about with Julia Bertram in the Mansfield woods, or—rather more reluctantly—walked with Miss Price in Mrs Grant’s garden.
‘Every time I come into this shrubbery I am more struck with how much has been made of such unpromising scrubby dirt,’ said Miss Price, as they were thus sitting together one day. ‘Three years ago, this was nothing but a rough hedgerow along the upper side of the field, never thought of as any thing, or capable of becoming any thing.’
‘It may seem partial in
me
to praise,’ replied Mary, looking around her, ‘but I must admire the taste my sister has shewn in all this. Even Henry approves of it, and his good opinion is not so easily won in matters horticultural.’
‘I am so glad to see the evergreens thrive!’ answered Miss Price, who did not appear to have heard her. ‘The evergreen! How beautiful, how welcome, how wonderful the evergreen!’
But as Miss Price happened to have her eyes fixed at that moment on a particularly fine example of an elm, Mary merely smiled and said nothing.
A few moments later, Miss Price began again in a rather different strain, ‘I cannot imagine what it is to pass March and April in London. How different a thing sunshine must be in a town! I imagine that in—Bedford-square was it not, my dear Miss Crawford?—the sun’s power is only a glare, serving but to bring forward stains and dirt that might otherwise have slept. And old gentlemen can be
so
particular about such things. I always pity the housekeeper in such circumstances.
You
, of course, know the trials of housekeeping only too well.’
Miss Price having exhausted for the present even her considerable talent for the underhand and the insulting, began to pull at some of the trimming on her dress. ‘This cheap fringe will not do at all. I really must ask Lady Bertram to remonstrate with that slovenly dressmaker. I am hardly fit to appear in decent company, but thankfully there is no-one of consequence
here
to see me.’
Mary watched her for a moment, reflecting that she did not have such an ornament on even her finest gown, before commenting thoughtfully, ‘I am conscious of being even more attracted to a country residence than I expected.’
‘Indeed?’ said Miss Price loudly, with a look of meaning. ‘What had you in mind? Allow me to guess. An elegant, moderate-sized house in the centre of family connections— continual engagements among them—commanding the first society in the neighbourhood, and turning from the cheerful round of such amusements to nothing worse than a
tête-à-tête
with the person one feels most agreeable in the world? I can see that such a picture would have much in it to attract
you
, Miss Crawford.’
‘Perhaps it does.’ Mary added to herself, leaving her seat, ‘Perhaps I could even envy
you
with such a home as that.’
Miss Price sat silent, once again absorbed in the vexations of her gown, and pulling at it until it was quite spoilt. Mary relapsed into thoughtfulness, till suddenly looking up she saw Edmund walking towards them in the company of Mrs Grant. The very consciousness of having been thinking of him as ‘Edmund’—as Miss Price alone was justified in thinking of him—caused her to colour and look away, a movement which was not lost on the sharp eyes of Miss Price.
‘Well, Miss Crawford,’ she said archly, ‘shall I disappoint them of half their lecture upon my sitting down out of doors at this time of year, by being up before they can begin?’
Edmund met them with particular awkwardness. It was the first time of his seeing them together since the beginning of that better acquaintance which he had been hearing deprecated by his mother almost every day. He could hardly understand it; there was such a difference in their tempers, their dispositions, and their tastes, there never were two people more dissimilar. But even if he saw the force of such a contrast, he was not yet equal to discuss it with himself, and seeing them together now, he confined himself to an insipid and common-place observation about the wisdom of judging the weather by the calendar, which would have merited an entry in Henry’s pocket-book, if he had but heard it.
As the four of them returned to the parsonage house, Edmund recollected the purpose of his errand; he had walked down on purpose to convey Sir Thomas’s invitation to the Grants and the Crawfords to dine at the Park. It was with strong expressions of regret that Mrs Grant declared herself to be prevented by a prior engagement, and Miss Price turned at once to Mary, saying how much she would have enjoyed the pleasure of her company, ‘but without Dr and Mrs Grant, she did not suppose it would be in their power to accept,’ all the while looking at Edmund for his support. But Mr Norris assured them that his uncle would be delighted to receive Mr and Miss Crawford, with or without the Grants, and in her brother’s absence Mary accepted with the greatest alacrity.
‘I am very glad. It will be delightful,’ said Miss Price, trying for greater warmth of manner, as they took their leave. Edmund took her arm and they walked home together; and except in the immediate discussion of this engagement, it was a silent walk—for having finished that subject, Edmund grew thoughtful and indisposed towards any other. Miss Price narrowly observed him throughout, but she said nothing.
At ten minutes after four on the appointed day, the coachman drove round and Mary and Henry set off across the park. As it happened, the Mansfield family had received a first letter from Mr William Bertram that very morning, and a whole afternoon had been insufficient to wear out their enthusiasm for accounts of how he had fitted up his berth, or the striking parts of his new uniform, or the kindnesses of his captain. The letter was produced again when the Crawfords arrived, and much made of its frank, unstudied style, and clear, strong handwriting. This specimen, written in haste as it was, had not a fault, and Mrs Norris expressed herself very glad that she had given William what she did at parting, very glad indeed that it had been in her power, without material inconvenience, to give him some thing rather considerable to answer his expenses, as well as a very great deal of invaluable advice about how to get every thing very cheap, by driving a hard bargain, and buying it all at Turner’s.
‘You are indeed fortunate that Mr William Bertram intends to be such a good correspondent,’ said Mary, examining the letter in her turn. ‘In my experience, young men are much less diligent creatures!’ with a smile at Henry. ‘Normally they would not write to their families but upon the most urgent necessity in the world; and when obliged to take up the pen, it is all over and done as quickly as possible. Henry, who is in every other way exactly what a brother should be, has never yet written more than a single page to me; and very often it is nothing more than, “Dear Mary, I am just arrived. The grounds shew great promise, and thankfully there are not too many sheep. Yours &c”.’
‘My dear Miss Crawford, you make me almost laugh,’ said Miss Price, ‘but I cannot rate so very highly the love or good-nature of a brother, who will not give himself the trouble of writing any thing worth reading, to his own sister. I am sure my cousins would never use
me
so, under any circumstances.’
‘I doubt there is a man in England who could so neglect Miss Price,’ said Henry gallantly, but received no other reward for his pains than Miss Price at once drawing back, and giving him a look of scorn.
A table was formed for a round game after tea, and Henry ventured to suggest that Speculation might amuse the ladies. Unwilling to cede the arrangement of the evening to anyone, and certainly not to either of the Crawfords, Mrs Norris protested that she had never played the game, nor seen it played in her life.
‘Perhaps Miss Price may teach you, ma’am.’
But here Fanny interposed with anxious protestations of her own equal ignorance, and although this gave Mrs Norris a further opportunity to press very industriously, but very unsuccessfully, for Whist, she quickly encountered the warm objections of the other young people, who assured her that nothing could be so easy, that Speculation was indeed the easiest game on the cards.
Henry once more stepped forward with a most earnest request to be allowed to sit with Mrs Norris and Miss Price, and teach them both, and it was so settled. It was a fine arrangement for Henry, who was close to Fanny, and with two persons’ cards to manage as well as his own— for though it was impossible for Mary not to feel herself mistress of the rules of the game in three minutes, Fanny continued to assert that Speculation seemed excessively difficult in
her
eyes, that she had not the least idea what she was about, and required her companion’s constant assistance as every deal began, to direct her what she was to do with her cards.