Edmund Bertram's Diary

SEPTEMBER

Monday 12 September

After a fortnight’s absence, Henry Crawford is with us once more. He made a welcome addition to our party this evening, for I fear we were all tired of hearing Rushworth’s commentary on his day’s sport, his boasts of his dogs, his jealousies of his neighbours and his zeal after poachers. Indeed, he seems to have no other conversation.

Fanny was surprised at Crawford’s return, for he had told us often that he was fond of change and moving about and she had thought he would have gone on to somewhere gayer than Mansfield. But I was pleased he had come back, for I was sure his presence gave his sister pleasure.

‘What a favorite he is with my cousins!’ Fanny remarked.

I agreed that his manners to women were such as must please and I was heartened to find that Mrs. Grant suspected him of a preference for Julia.

‘I have never seen much symptom of it,’ I confessed to Fanny, ‘but I wish it may be so. He has no faults but what a serious attachment would remove, and I think he would make her a good husband.’

Fanny was silent and looked at the floor. After a minute she said cautiously, ‘If Miss Bertram were not engaged, I could sometimes almost think that he admired her more than Julia.’

‘Which is, perhaps, more in favor of his liking Julia best, than you, Fanny, may be aware,’ I told her kindly, for she has seen very little of the world. ‘I believe it often happens that a man, before he has quite made up his own mind, will distinguish the sister or intimate friend of the woman he is really thinking of more than the woman herself. Crawford has too much sense to stay here if he found himself in any danger from Maria, engaged as she is to Rushworth.’

I found myself wishing Mary Crawford had a friend or unmarried sister here, so that I could distinguish her, for I am afraid of showing Miss Crawford too much attention, and yet I cannot help myself.

I believe I am worrying unnecessarily, though. Even if she suspects a preference on my part, she will not want an offer from a man in my position, and so I need have no fear of raising expectations which I am not in a position to fulfill.

Wednesday 21 September

One of Tom’s friends arrived today. Tom was surprised to see him, for he had issued no more than a casual invitation, but nevertheless he made Yates welcome. Yates’s unexpected arrival was soon explained. He had come from Cornwall where he had been at a house party, but it had been cut short by the sudden death of a relative of those with whom he was staying. He had had no choice but to leave, and remembering Tom’s invitation, he had come to us. He arrived with an air of one whose enjoyment had been curtailed, and on learning we had a violin player in the servants’ hall, he suggested a ball.

Julia and Maria agreed eagerly, whilst Miss Crawford turned a dazzling countenance on him and told him it was an excellent idea. I was in favor of it, too. Fanny had never been to a ball, and I was pleased that her first experience of such an entertainment would take place at Mansfield, where her shyness would be no handicap and where she would be sure of partners. I secured her hand for the first two dances and made sure Tom would ask her later on. I knew I could rely on Crawford to act the gentleman and ask her as well, and so he did. Miss Crawford and I danced together, and though we danced ’till late, I would have been happy for the ball to have gone on ’til dawn.

Thursday 22 September

‘By Jove! we are a happy party,’ said Yates at breakfast. ‘Even happier than the party in Cornwal, or at least happier than we were before Ravenshaw suggested we all perform a play. Ecclesford is one of the best houses in England for doing such a thing. What a time we had of it!

The rehearsals were going along splendidly...’ he said, with a sigh and a shake of the head.

‘It was a hard case, upon my word,’ said Tom.

‘I do think you are very much to be pitied,’ said Maria.

‘The play we were to have performed was Lovers’ Vows, and I was to have been Count Cassel. A trifling part, and not at all to my taste, and such a one as I certainly would not accept again; but I was determined to make no difficulties. Lord Ravenshaw and the duke had appropriated the only two characters worth playing before I reached Ecclesford; and though Lord Ravenshaw offered to resign his to me, it was impossible to take it, you know. Our Agatha was inimitable, and the duke was thought very great by many. And upon the whole, it would certainly have gone off wonderfully. It is not worth complaining about; but to be sure the poor old dowager could not have died at a worse time; and it is impossible to help wishing that the news could have been suppressed for just the three days we wanted. It was but three days; and being only a grandmother, and all happening two hundred miles off, I think there would have been no great harm, and it was suggested, I know; but Lord Ravenshaw, who I suppose is one of the most correct men in England, would not hear of it.’

‘An afterpiece instead of a comedy,’ said Tom. ‘Lovers’ Vows were at an end, and Lord and Lady Ravenshaw left to act My Grandmother by themselves. To make you amends, Yates, I think we must raise a little theatre at Mansfield, and ask you to be our manager.’

The idea seized the party.

‘Let us be doing something,’ said Crawford. ‘Be it only half a play, an act, a scene; what should prevent us? And for a theatre, what signifies a theatre? We shall be only amusing ourselves. Any room in this house might suffice.’

‘We must have a curtain,’ said Tom. ‘A few yards of green baize for a curtain, and perhaps that may be enough.’

‘Oh, quite enough,’ cried Yates, ‘with only just a side wing or two run up, doors in flat, and three or four scenes to be let down; nothing more would be necessary on such a plan as this. For mere amusement among ourselves we should want nothing more.’

I was startled, for such an undertaking would involve a great deal of expense at a time when the estate could little afford it, besides taking the carpenter from his regular duties at a time when he could not be spared. But Tom waved my doubts aside and was soon pressing the merits of a comedy, whilst my sisters and Crawford preferred a tragedy.

There was so much argument I began to breathe easily again, for I thought they would argue so much over the play that nothing would come of it after all. But in this I was mistaken, for when we were in the billiard room this evening, Tom declared it to be the very size and shape for a theatre.

‘If we move the bookcase away from the door in my father’s room, it can be made to open, and as it will then communicate with our theatre in the billiard room we can use it as a greenroom.’

‘You are not serious?’ I asked him.

‘Not serious! Never more so, I assure you. What is there to surprise you in it?’

‘We cannot make free with my father’s room,’ I objected.

‘Why not? What does it matter, when he is not here to see it?’

My thoughts ran to wine stains on the carpet, white rings on the desk — for I believed Yates to be capable of putting a hot cup down on the polished wood — and all the attendant evils of carelessness, but Tom would not listen.

I spoke to him of our reputation and our father’s absence but he only said, ‘Pooh! You take everything too seriously, Edmund. Anyone would think we were going to act three times a week till my father’s return, and invite all the country! And as to my father’s being absent, it is so far from an objection, that I consider it rather as a motive; for the expectation of his return must be a very anxious period to my mother; and if we can be the means of amusing that anxiety, and keeping up her spirits for the next few weeks, I shall think our time very well spent, and so, I am sure, will he. It is a very anxious period for her.’

As he said this, we looked towards our mother who, sunk back in one corner of the sofa, the picture of health, ease, and tranquility, was just falling into a gentle doze. I could not help giving a wry smile, and Tom had the grace to laugh.

‘By Jove! this won’t do,’ he cried, throwing himself into a chair. ‘To be sure, my dear mother, your anxiety — I was unlucky there.’

‘What is the matter?’ she asked, half-roused. ‘I was not asleep.’

‘Oh dear, no, ma’am, nobody suspected you! well, Edmund, ’ he continued, ‘but this I will maintain, that we shall be doing no harm.’

Nothing I could say would sway him; no concern for Maria and Julia’s reputations, for if word of it got out they would be regarded as fast; nor considerations of our father’s wishes, for he would surely not wish us to take such liberties with his house whilst he was away; nor thoughts of the upheaval and expense.

‘I know my father as well as you do; and I’ll take care that his daughters do nothing to distress him. Manage your own concerns, Edmund, and I’ll take care of the rest of the family,’ he said.

‘Don’t imagine that nobody in this house can see or judge but yourself. Don’t act yourself, if you do not like it, but don’t expect to govern everybody else.’

He walked out of the room and I sat down by the fire, feeling exceedingly low, for I was sure one thing would lead to another and I feared that, before long, we would find ourselves embroiled in a major undertaking. And I was responsible, for I had promised my father I would look after affairs in his absence. What would he feel if he returned to find the profits of the estate spent on something so frivolous, when he had just spent two years in Antigua in an effort to mend the family fortunes?

Fanny followed me and sat down beside me.

‘Perhaps they may not be able to find any play to suit them. Your brother’s taste and your sisters’ seem very different, ’ she said.

‘I have no hope there, Fanny,’ I said with a sigh. ‘If they persist in the scheme, they will find something. I shall speak to my sisters and try to dissuade them, and that is all I can do.’

She agreed that this would be my best choice of conduct. Tomorrow, then, I must try to dissuade my sisters from acting, and hope it puts an end to the scheme.

Friday 23 September

I did my best to dissuade Maria and Julia from putting on a play this morning, but they would not listen to me.

‘Of course the estate can bear the expense,’ said Maria.

‘I am persuaded Rushworth would not like you to act,’ I said, trying to sway her.

‘He must learn I have a mind of my own,’ she returned.

Julia was no easier to persuade, for although she thought Maria had better not act, as for herself, there could be no objection to it.

At that very moment Henry Crawford entered the room, fresh from the Parsonage, calling out,

‘No want of hands in our theatre, Miss Bertram. No want of understrappers: my sister desires her love, and hopes to be admitted into the company, and will be happy to take the part of any old duenna or tame confidante, that you may not like to do yourselves.’

Maria looked at me as much as to say, ‘Can we be wrong if Mary Crawford sees no harm in it?’

I was obliged to acknowledge that the charm of acting might well carry fascination to the mind of genius; and to think that Miss Crawford, as ever, was the most obliging young woman. She, at least, was blameless, for she did not know how my father’s affairs stood, and could not be expected to know that any additional expense, coming at such a time, was very undesirable. My aunt expressed a few reservations when Tom told her of the scheme and I hoped, briefly, that this would dampen his enthusiasm, but he and Maria joined forces and soon talked Aunt Norris out of her objections, and the play became a settled thing. I must now make it my concern to limit the scope of the production so that it does as little harm as possible.

Saturday 24 September

Tom lost no time in calling the estate carpenter to the house, despite the fact that Jackson was needed to finish mending the fences blown down in last week’s strong winds. Tom told him to take measurements for a stage.

‘And when you have done, there is a bookcase in my father’s room that needs moving,’ he said. I reminded Jackson about the fence, and bid him see to it as soon as he was free, but if Tom is to continue as he has begun, he is going to make my life very difficult over the weeks to come.

‘And now for the baize. Where are we to get it, Aunt?’ asked Tom.

‘Had you better not wait until you have decided on a play?’ I asked him.

‘Details,’ he said, with a wave of his hand.

‘You must send to Northampton,’ said Aunt Norris. ‘They have quite the finest baize in the county; I saw it there the last time I went. It was of a superior quality, and they had just the shade we are looking for.’

Friday 30 September

The green baize has arrived, my aunt has cut out the curtains and the housemaids are busy sewing them, but no play has as yet been decided upon. At least I have had the fences repaired, for I forbade Christopher Jackson the house until the work was done.