Edmund Bertram's Diary

SEPTEMBER

Wednesday 3 September

And so my father has gone, and I am in charge of his affairs. I rose early, conscious of how much there was to do, and after spending the morning with the steward, so that I could refresh my mind as to my duties for the coming month, this afternoon I began on them in earnest. Dinner-time came quickly and I hesitated before taking my father’s place. It seemed strange to sit in his chair and carve the meat, providing a focus at the head of the table. And afterwards, when the ladies withdrew, I was conscious of how alone I was, for without Tom and my father to talk to I sat in state by myself. I quickly repaired to the drawing-room where the others were gathered.

‘Well, Edmund, and so we are alone, and must get used to being alone, for who knows when we may see Sir Thomas again?’ said my aunt with a sigh.

‘He has gone for a year, not for ever,’ I said.

‘I only hope it may be so,’ she said, relishing the new situation and determined to make a drama of it. ‘But who knows what may happen to a man, once he leaves his own fireside? There are villains everywhere. At this very minute, Sir Thomas may be in the power of pirates.’

‘Sir Thomas will not have been caught by pirates, will he?’ asked Mama, stirring.

‘I hardly think so,’ I told her.

‘Who can say?’ countered Aunt Norris. ‘The sea is a very unsafe place. And if he has not been captured by pirates, then what other dangers might he not be facing? There are typhoons and tidal waves... I shall not be surprised if Sir Thomas is shipwrecked, only to return to us after fifteen years with long white hair and a beard.’

Mama was alarmed.

‘Do not say so! I have never been able to abide a beard,’ she said.

‘Depend upon it, he will have fine weather and make the crossing in a month,’ I told her.

‘If he is not set upon by an enemy vessel,’ said my aunt, ‘for then he will be thrown into the sea, as like as not, and eaten by a whale.’

Fanny heroically distracted my aunt’s attention, allowing us to pass the rest of the evening without any further visions fit for one of Mrs. Radcliffe’s novels.