Edmund Bertram's Diary

JULY

Wednesday 12 July

Maria and Crawford’s situation grows daily worse. They are now so disenchanted with each other that they fairly hate each other and a voluntary separation looks set to take place any day. My aunt wishes my father to receive her here, but he will not hear of it.

‘This is all your doing,’ said my aunt to Fanny, as I entered the drawing-room this afternoon. ‘If you had married Mr. Crawford when he asked you, then none of this would have happened.’

I rescued Fanny from my aunt’s spite by suggesting a walk in the garden, where we continued our discussion of Thomson, and from thence, sparked by our joy of the soft summer air, Fanny progressed to Cowper, saying:

God made the country, and man made the town.

‘You were not happy in Portsmouth?’ I said.

‘No. It grieves me to say it, but I was not. I missed Mansfield, not just the countryside, but the people. I had thought, before I went, that I would feel at home there, with my family, but their ways are so different to ours — in truth, I was often horrified. My father...’

‘You may say anything to me, Fanny. If you want to ease your heart, I am at your disposal.’

‘It seems wrong to speak disrespectfully of my parents.’

‘There is no disrespect in turning to a friend for comfort and guidance,’ I said.

‘You do me good, Edmund. You always do me good.’

‘Except...’ I thought of the time I had tried to persuade her to marry Henry Crawford. I had been blinded by my own concerns. I had not been a friend to her there. But I put such thoughts aside and continued, ‘Your family were not what you were expecting them to be?’

‘No. My father cursed a great deal, and my mother seemed content to proceed without any order. I confess, I learnt the lesson that I believe Sir Thomas had been endeavoring to teach me, that wealth and position bring with them many advantages, and that poverty brings with it many hardships that cannot be overlooked.’

‘And yet you did not succumb to the lure of riches that was being held out to you.’

‘No. I would rather live in an attic at Mansfield Park than in a manor house where I did not love.’

‘I too. One evening spent walking by the river with you, talking of things that matter, is of far more value to me than a year in London, talking of nothing and attending the most glittering parties.’

The light began to fade and we went indoors, to continue our conversation in the library, away from Aunt Norris.

Wednesday 19 July

Tom went out riding for the first time since his fall, and though he was wary to begin with he soon regained his confidence and came home looking as well as he did before his illness.

Thursday 27 July

Our evening walks have become a settled thing, and not a day goes by without Fanny and I strolling through the grounds. As we walked by the river this evening I stopped to survey the water, whose surface was sparkling in the sunlight. I thought that it was like Mary, dazzling on the surface, but with mud beneath. Further on, there was no sparkle, but the water was clear and deep, and I thought of Fanny, whose goodness ran down to the depths of her being. I turned to face her and thought how lucky I was to have her, for she had safeguarded my faith in women when Mary would have shattered it.

As long as I have Fanny, I will always know that goodness exists, because I will have it right in front of me.