Miss Price's Decision

by Eliza Shearer

  “If I discover that what you say is a fabrication, or if I hear the faintest of gossip concerning any of the topics you heard us discuss today, I assure you that you will not be in that position long.”

  “You have my word.”

  Without peeling his steely eyes away from me, Mr Cole reached out just inside the room and took a pair of leather gloves. I realised that he must have come to fetch them when he had run into me.

  “You had better mean what you say. Now, you may go.”

  I almost ran down the corridor and up the flight of stairs until I reached the safety of my aunt’s room. Only with the door firmly closed behind me, surrounded by the soothing sound of Lady Bertram and pug’s gentle snores, I managed to finally steady my heartbeat.

  Chapter 5

  When I woke up the following morning, my first thoughts were for my back, which was aching after a night spent in the window seat. It appeared that no amount of cushions could make up from the lack of a proper bed. Very soon, however, my mind darted back to the events from the previous night and my encounter with Mr Cole. I immediately felt my cheeks burn with embarrassment.

  Lady Bertram was still asleep. Careful not to disturb her, I left her bedchamber and went upstairs to change. The little attic room was stifling, but at least I was on my own. As I washed and dressed, I could not help but think of Mr Cole’s first request upon finding me. A shiver ran down my spine at the thought of what might have happened, had I been a lowly servant devoid of friends. I rubbed my face with soap, as if with the gesture I could erase the memory of his smell of alcohol, tobacco and sweat.

  Soon, another unpleasant realisation replaced my initial thought. Even if Mr Cole confirmed that I was indeed a relation to the Bertrams and companion to my aunt, I had no guarantee that he would consider me deserving of his respect. His perception may well be that, by watching family members, I was breaking the trust that my more fortunate relatives had placed in me. I felt panic rise inside of me. What would happen to me if Mr Cole told Mr Yates about our encounter? I shut my eyes and tried to slow down my breath. There was little I could do. I could only cling to the hope that the matter would be soon forgotten, and that I would never see the man again.

  Downstairs, the front entrance was wide open and a cold breeze came up from the front steps. Nevertheless, a stale atmosphere permeated every corner of the house. Everywhere I looked there were servants brushing carpets, dusting fireplaces, polishing silver and cleaning wax stains. In the breakfast room, my uncle was in the midst of his repast, reading the neatly folded papers. I asked him if he had enjoyed the previous night, and he considered his response for a few moments.

  “I am not sure that I have a definite answer. The guests were mostly young people from very good families, and some of the men displayed a reasonable grasp of politics, although their opinions were as far removed from mine as they could be.”

  “Perhaps those gentlemen were less well informed than you give them credit for.”

  “I do not think so, Susan. I believe it was merely proof of the chasm existing in the current Parliament, and in a way, I am glad that it is no longer my battle. I am beginning to feel too old.”

  “Oh, sir, do not say that! A man is as young as he allows himself to feel. You still have many years ahead of you!”

  “You are kind, but I am not blind to the advancement of time. The only thing I would like to see before I expire is Tom happily married and settled at Mansfield Park. He is not getting any younger, either, and he needs an heir.”

  I remembered Mr Yates’ words about my cousin’s affections being already engaged to a lady of his acquaintance that belonged to his Gloucestershire circle of friends, so I opted to change the subject, lest I betray myself by saying the wrong thing.

  “Are Mr and Mrs Yates not up yet?”

  “The butler has discreetly informed me that, after this kind of gatherings, they are rarely awake before midday.”

  “Oh.”

  “I can tell you that they had a splendid time. Mr Yates, fuelled by much drink, ended up on top of a chair, giving a nonsensical speech about the rights of the common man, while Julia was dancing until the small hours with as much eagerness as a young girl in her first ball. What they need to stop this nonsense is children,” Sir Thomas added with determination.

  Perhaps aware that he had said too much, he focused on his papers and did not speak for the rest of the time we were sat at the breakfast table.

  After a whole day spent in bed, Lady Bertram was feeling much better and we spent the morning in the second drawing room. Seeing her so rested and in good spirits, I suggested going for a walk, but she said she preferred to stay in the house. I suspected that she did not want to leave in case Julia came to spend time with her, for on a few occasions she mentioned how much she was looking forward to Julia’s retelling of the previous evening.

  The clock struck twelve. My cousin had not yet made an appearance and, seeing that my aunt was beginning to look rather melancholy, I took it upon myself to change her spirits. La Belle Assemblée did not fail to deliver, and she seemed to pull away from any dark thoughts for a while. I felt a surge of affection towards her. To think that Mr Cole had the power to disgrace me and strip me from my aunt’s life was frightening. I pushed the thought aside, and continued to read to her until she fell asleep.

  I looked out the drawing room window, which was at the front of the house. The sun had finally made an appearance and the little shrubbery that grew along the black railings was particularly lush and verdant, perhaps as result of the abundance of water from the previous night. I smiled. This time I was prepared. From my dress pocket I extracted the old leather pouch where I kept my drawing materials. I had left the tattered portfolio upstairs, as it was too bulky, but found some usable material in the heap of paper that the footman had brought to light up the fire, and happily began to sketch the greenery growing by the window.

  While my hand was busy depicting the thick leaves and their woody stems, my mind wandered to the events from the previous night prior to my disagreeable encounter with Mr Cole. Mr Bingley had struck me as a kind-hearted man, and he appeared to be very much in love. Who was the lucky lady, and why did his friend object to the attachment? Mr Darcy had looked so guilty when the subject had been breached. I sighed, not for him, but for the vivid memories that his looks had triggered. After five years, my remembrance of Jamie’s features was fading, but this handsome stranger had redrawn them for me.

  At that moment, the door opened without a knock to warn me, and Julia stormed into the room. In spite of the excesses from the previous night, she looked radiant in her elegant day dress. She frowned as soon as she saw me and I felt my back tense up.

  “Is Mamma sleeping?”

  “Yes, she is. My aunt is well rested, however, and very much looking forward to seeing you.”

  “And what are you doing in the meantime?”

  “I was sketching the shrubbery that sits at the front of the house.”

  To my surprise, Julia grabbed the old leather pouch I had carelessly left on the table. She observed it intently, then pointed her finger at me.

  “Where did you steal this from?”

  “I found it in the nursery in Mansfield Park. It looked as if it was of no use to anyone, so I thought…”

  “This was a present from my dear father to my sister when she turned ten years old. It is a family keepsake, a much prized souvenir and certainly not something you are welcome to. I sincerely hope that you have not been helping yourself to whatever it is that you find lying around the Park.”

  I felt a rush of blood to the head at the accusation and stood up. I had never been this close to her before. She was tall, but not so tall that I could not look at her in the eye. She winced.

  “I shall not demean our family by giving your implication any consideration,” said I with my chin up, and as calm a voice as I could muster. “However, I kindly ask you to allow me to retrieve my drawing materials before restor
ing the pouch to you.”

  Julia pursed her lips.

  “I do not think I shall grant your request. I dare guess that you also found them in the nursery and, therefore, they are not yours by right.”

  I bit my lip. I could have cried, but I did not want to give Julia that pleasure. With trembling hands, I opened the pouch, extracted Mary’s silver knife and handed Julia the leather pouch and its precious belongings to her.

  “What are you keeping for yourself? How dare you after what I have just said?”

  “It’s the silver knife that belonged to my dead sister.”

  Clutching it, I narrowed my eyes, prepared to defend my rightful property. Julia shrugged her shoulders and slid the tatty pouch in the pocket of her dress, while I shook with indignation and a deep sense of injustice for the second time in the space of just a few hours. Before walking out, Julia glanced in the direction of Lady Bertram. She was fast asleep, her work on her lap and the little dog at her feet.

  “Tell my mother I had to go on a few errands this afternoon, and that I shall see her at dinner,” said Julia, without looking at me. “Mr Yates will be home and he will be very pleased to see her and my father.”

  After Julia was gone, all that was left on the table was a pile of scraps of paper. I took the sketch I had been working on when my cousin interrupted me; it had a solitary, half-drawn rosebush. I clasped my jaw, crumpled the paper and threw it in the fire and clasped Mary’s knife in my hands, close to my heart.

  Lady Bertram awakened from her nap shortly afterwards and I had to tell her that Julia would not see her that afternoon. My aunt’s face betrayed her deep sadness upon hearing the news, and although I suggested for the second time that day that we get some fresh air, she again refused. For the remainder of the afternoon she sat in the drawing room, looking out of the window and refusing to move, lest Julia come home early.

  I was busy finishing my hair in the small attic room when the first bell announced that dinner would soon be served. Doing my toilette in my circumstances was a complicated affair. The only mirror in the room, which was hanging precariously from a nail on one of the walls, was tiny. Because of this, I could only see bits of my hair and face at a time, and so it was taking me longer than usual to arrange my curls. I determined to speak to someone about my sleeping arrangements, for I was dreading my second night with Murphy, when she entered the room.

  “Do you need a hand, miss?”

  “I think I am managing just fine,” I mumbled.

  Murphy lingered by the door, transferring her weight from one foot to the other while observing me in silence with her bovine eyes. The bell rang in the distance; I was late.

  “Miss…”

  “Would you mind if we spoke later, Murphy? I am afraid I am in a bit of a rush.”

  Murphy left the room in a huff. I took a deep breath, finished arranging my curls as best as I could and rushed downstairs. Mr and Mrs Yates were already in the dining parlour. It was the perfect moment to bring up the issue of my sleeping arrangements. Perhaps Julia would be more amenable in the presence of her husband.

  “Allow me to mention a matter that is causing me some concern,” I began, but Julia began to speak completely ignoring my words.

  “Dear cousin, your hair is looking rather wild! Are you quite alright?”

  “I did not wish to be late,” I replied, flustered. “But precisely about that…”

  “You will, of course, remember my husband, Mr Yates.”

  “I am delighted to see you again, Miss Price,” said he. “I have heard a great deal about you of late.”

  Julia raised an eyebrow and I felt rooted to the spot. I immediately understood that my cousin had not mentioned me to her husband. His source of information must be Mr Cole.

  “It is such a pity that you were not able to join us last night,” Mr Yates added. “I understand that you were keeping my dear mother-in-law company.”

  “You are too good, Mr. Y.,” said Julia to her husband as she entwined her arm in his. “Even if Mamma had been well, Susan would have never attended a ball. Fanny certainly never did, not in all my time in Mansfield Park. She always knew her place.”

  “Fanny? Who is Fanny?”

  “Mr Y.!” said Julia, her good humour back. “Fanny is Mrs Bertram, my brother Edmund’s wife. We went to their wedding a few years ago, remember?”

  “Yes, but why on Earth would I know her Christian name?”

  “I cannot believe your words!” exclaimed Julia in mock horror. “You met Fanny at Mansfield Park when we were engaged in the theatricals, remember? She was my mother’s companion at the time.”

  “I was too busy falling in love with you, my dear.”

  “You are such a flatterer!” blushed Julia with delight.

  “It is perfectly true. I do not remember your cousin Fanny at all, although I recall many other details to an astonishing degree. I can still picture the exact shade of green baize the curtain was made of, and would be quite prepared to say my lines as Baron Wildenheim with little preparation, should I be required to do so. Perhaps the theatricals made such an impression on me because of the sheer number of events worthy of attention taking place at the same time. What was the name of the young lady your brother Edmund was infatuated with?”

  I winced at Mr Yates’ casual remark. As devoted to his family as Edmund was, I remembered well his faltering voice and melancholy looks around the time of my arrival in Mansfield Park. In the weeks of turmoil that followed, and in spite of Fanny’s silence, I saw and heard enough to understand that my cousin’s pain was not just the result of Maria and Julia’s behaviour. In any case, those events were irrelevant now. There was no need for Mr Yates to mention Edmund’s long lost love for a woman who was not his wife.

  Nevertheless, Julia was clearly enjoying the conversation.

  “Mr Y.! You are quite incorrigible. You do not recall Fanny because she was never part of our little company. She thought our harmless amusements beneath her, believing them to be a source of depravity and all imaginable evil.”

  Mr Yates chuckled, but immediately addressed me.

  “Miss Price, please excuse my wife’s frankness. Take it as a demonstration of our trust and confidence in your discretion.”

  “Do not mention it, Mr Yates,” I said, not quite knowing where to look.

  “Please give my regards to your sister,” continued he, “although be so kind not to comment on the fact that I have quite forgotten about her. In my experience, ladies do not tend to appreciate candour when it comes to first impressions. And, once more, allow me to regret your forced absence last night. It is touching to hear that you were kindly and diligently by Lady Bertram’s side at all times.”

  He said this with a raised eyebrow and a hard smile on his thin lips. I nodded and coloured deeply, praying that his words were not a veiled reference to my abrupt encounter with Mr Cole.

  “I must say, at least Susan seems to have more conversation than her sister,” said Julia addressing her husband, as if I were not present. “Fanny was always very timid and quiet.”

  “You are so polite, my dear Mrs Y. I call such people dullards.”

  I clasped my hands tightly in front of me and clenched my teeth while Mr and Mrs Yates shared a conniving smile. I did not doubt that, had my uncle or aunt been with us, her words would have been very different.

  Sir Thomas and Lady Bertram soon made an appearance and the rest of the evening was much more sedate. I felt too defeated to attempt to mention my sleeping arrangements, so I chose to follow the general conversation, saying little and interrupting less. The talk between my uncle and his son-in-law was strained, if perfectly civil. Their mutual dislike was eased by the manners of the former and the theatrical talent of the latter. As for the ladies, Julia did not move from her mother’s side, making up for her absence during the day with continued demonstrations of affection towards Lady Bertram. My cousin also systematically disregarded every attempt I made to contribute to the conve
rsation, but Lady Bertram appeared so happy with her daughter’s attentions that for once I decided to follow Fanny’s example, smile sweetly and say nothing.

  The only moment of disquiet in what was a mostly unremarkable evening came as I was retiring for the night. I bid goodnight to my uncle, aunt and cousin, but when I caught Mr Yates’ eye, I almost gasped. He was looking at me with the cold eyes and twisted smile of those who know themselves to be in possession of the secrets of others. I felt my shoulders tighten and my breath become shallower, and it took all of my self-possession to look composed. I went to bed with my insides in a knot, praying that Mr Yates would not share with his wife the circumstances of my encounter with Cole, for that would give her even more power over me.

  Chapter 6

  Murphy’s comings and goings woke me up well past midnight, and then again before dawn. Her temporary responsibilities as Lady Bertram’s maid were much less arduous than her usual tasks at Mansfield Park, but her hours were almost as long. Sharing such small quarters with her gave me the small consolation that, compared to the realities of a maid, I had a very easy life. I tried to go back to sleep, but unpleasant thoughts about Mr Cole and Mr Yates plagued me, and the only way to be rid of them was to dress and begin my day.

  After a breakfast of bread and ham, I went into Lady Bertram’s bedchamber to help her prepare for the visit with the physician. Murphy was already there, braiding my aunt’s hair with clumsy gestures that gave away her inexperience and lack of confidence. I tried to ignore the urge to help her and opted instead to address my aunt.

  “I hope you have had a good night.”

  “Yes, I did. I enjoyed Julia’s conversation very much. She was always a cheerful, pretty child, and it is delightful to see her charms put to good use in her role as society hostess. But are you well, Susan? You look indisposed. It must be the London air. Sir Thomas says it is foul and unhealthy.”