Henry: To Prove Himself Worthy (Other Pens, Mansfield Park Book 1)

by Leenie Brown

  “Evelyn, we must be going.” Mrs. Barrett stood, and her daughter followed suit. “It was a pleasure,” she said to Mrs. Kendrick. “But we will not overstay our time and keep you from your other caller.” She gave Henry a sweeping look. Her lips curled in displeasure.

  The action made Henry bristle. “I am not contagious,” he muttered.

  The lady’s expression changed from assessing to one of shock.

  “You looked as if I might cause some ill to befall your daughter,” Henry explained, settling back into his chair and crossing one foot over the other. The lady expected him to be a cad, so he might as well conduct himself with the nonchalance of one. “I assure you I will not. Miss Barrett is lovely, but not the sort of lady to tempt me away from my single life.” He smiled. “And that is what I seek ─ a wife. And, might I add, since it is likely that it will be discussed in my absence, I do not intend to be the sort of gentleman to take a wife lightly or my vows to her as anything less than sacred.”

  “Is that so?” Mrs. Barrett asked in surprise.

  “Shocking, is it not?” Henry replied.

  “Indeed, it is,” said Mrs. Kendrick with a stern look at Henry.

  Henry inclined his head in acceptance of her reproach. “I have erred quite remarkably on that account,” he admitted.

  “You most certainly have,” Mrs. Kendrick agreed. “But it might be best not to lead with such declarations when calling on young ladies.”

  “I only wish Mrs. Barrett and her daughter to know I mean them no harm, so that when we meet again, they can feel at ease.” It was part of the plan he had formulated last night as he sat before the hearth with only a bottle of wine to keep him company. He would not shy away from acknowledging his errors. It had been uncomfortable to be direct with Mary, but had he continued to thrust and parry with her and Lady Stornaway, he would have likely found himself unable to refuse an invitation to some gathering and would, therefore, find himself in precisely the position he wished to avoid.

  “I shall keep that in mind,” Mrs. Barrett replied. “You will not fault me, however, for being skeptical of your words.”

  Henry brushed at a wrinkle on his sleeve. “I should fault you if you did not.”

  “Then we have an understanding,” said Mrs. Barrett. “And if you should require a partner for a country dance and will promise to walk no further with Evelyn than the dance floor, I will allow you to dance with her.”

  It was Henry’s turned to be startled.

  “Mr. Linton and Mrs. Kendrick have, I assume, given you leave to call on Constance, and I trust their judgment more than I trust your words.” She pulled on her gloves as she added. “I have been a friend of Mrs. Kendrick for many years, Mr. Crawford, and I appreciate directness. However, I will keep watch at soirees and in the paper.”

  Henry smiled and nodded. “If there is any indiscretion on my part — beyond what I have already committed — I shall not approach your daughter.”

  Mrs. Barrett tapped her nose and then extended a hand to her daughter. “We do have other calls, dear.”

  Evelyn dutifully took her mother’s hand, and they took their leave.

  Constance stared at Henry as her friend departed. This was not the Henry she knew. She knew a gentleman who was charming to a fault, who was always saying or doing whatever might be most pleasing to any lady in the room. He was the sort of gentleman who avoided declaring any of his own actions as overly bad. They might be ill-thought-out or a small folly, but they were never an error of a remarkable size. She had always enjoyed Henry’s company, but she had never found him the least bit compelling — annoying, prevaricating, and amiable despite his faults — he had been all of those things, but never compelling — until now.

  “I have come to a conclusion,” Henry began in an attempt to lay out his true intentions for calling on the ladies at Linton House today.

  “That you shall offend everyone you meet who looks at you with a wary eye?” Mrs. Kendrick’s eyes danced with amusement.

  “No, well, perhaps,” Henry’s fingers drummed a pattern on the arm of the chair in which he sat. “I suppose it might come to that. But my intention is to avoid hiding my folly. I dare say it is a well-known story from the looks I received last night and from Mrs. Barrett just now. What point is there in denying my part in the seduction? I was led astray but not unwillingly.”

  “Must you speak so directly?”

  “I apologize, Miss Linton,” Henry smiled at the lovely blush on Constance’s cheeks. His former self would have considered how he could make those cheeks so beguilingly flushed again and again; however, his present self only paused for a moment to admire her beauty before continuing. “I did not come to discuss the particulars of what has happened in the recent past, although they are the foundation for my request of you.”

  “Your request?” Constance repeated his words, her brows drawn together and her lips slightly pursed.

  Again, Henry took a moment to admire her before replying. She was remarkably charming.

  “Yes, I seem to be at a loss on how to proceed in society as a respectable fellow. I know very well how to be a cad and libertine, but I have pitifully little idea how to be the sort of gent that a lady of good character and strong morals would wish to take on as a husband. Therefore, I would greatly appreciate your assistance.” He held her bewildered gaze for a moment before looking to Mrs. Kendrick.

  “I know no other lady of exemplary character who might be allowed to help me.” He paused and drew a deliberate breath to stop the small clenching he felt in his chest. There was one lady of exemplary character who, at one time, would have likely helped him learn all he needed to know to be worthy of her, but at that time, he had not been so willing to learn as he was now. It had, unfortunately, taken the crushing of his own heart at his own hands to make him willing to learn. Mary had always said that Fanny Price would be the making of him, and she would be, for it was the loss of her that saw him here, now, hoping with all that remained of his fragile heart to be given the assistance he needed.

  Constance blinked and looked from Henry to her aunt and back, her hand rested on her heart which was beating a steady and somewhat rapid rhythm. “You think I can help you learn how to be a husband?”

  Henry nodded. “You are a lady of good character, so you should know what someone such as yourself would wish for in a husband. You could point out my shortcomings, and we could devise a way for me to overcome them.”

  He leaned forward in his chair and turned his attention to Mrs. Kendrick. “Trefor has helped me learn much about running my estate, and he could likely aid me with this, too. However, I should think the information would be more reliable coming from a lady.”

  “You have no ulterior motives?” Mrs. Kendrick held Henry’s gaze. “I do not need to fear for my charge’s virtue or heart? You are a charming rascal, and she would not be the first to fall victim to your enchantment.”

  “I promise you,” Henry begged, “I would never attempt anything with Miss Linton.”

  “Why not?” The words flew from Constance’s mouth before she could think better of them.

  “Constance!” her aunt chided. “Do you wish to be seduced and ruined?”

  Constance wished to be swallowed by the settee on which she sat or to fall through the floor or to simply disappear. Speaking of seductions was not something she wished to do with anyone, especially not her aunt and Mr. Crawford! But she had allowed her words to run faster than her thoughts, so now she must explain them or face a lecture on the dangers of gentlemen like Henry Crawford.

  “I did not mean I wished to be seduced.” Constance kept her voice soft, and her eyes on her clasped hands in her lap. “I was merely wondering if there was some defect in me that would make me less worthy of a gentleman’s consideration.” There were defects. Plenty of them. She preferred reading to dancing. She liked to speak of things of importance rather than just the weather and who was wearing what and doing this or that. She liked to know and u
nderstand the working of an estate and its books. She was curious about how crops could be improved or flocks strengthened. Added to this, she was known to speak her mind too freely and contradict people. None of these traits recommended her as a desirable, biddable wife.

  “There is no defect in you, Miss Linton,” Henry said, placing a reassuring hand for a moment on Constance’s until her aunt cleared her throat and gave him a stern look. “I would not have asked for your assistance if I had not thought you were perfection personified. It is true,” he stressed to Mrs. Kendrick, who was looking at him skeptically. “I am not flattering her.”

  “Then why would you not consider me?” She had not thought her cheeks could get any warmer, but she was wrong, for they felt as if they were about to burst into flames as she realized how her question might sound. “I do not mean consider me for a seduction, but just consider me as someone you would court and marry — not that I wish for you to court or marry me.” She clamped her mouth shut before she could explain her way into some other situation that would require even more explanation.

  Henry couldn’t help the way his mouth curled in pleasure at seeing her so flustered. “Your brother,” he replied simply. “I will not deny that I find you attractive, but I would rather like to keep my life and all my body parts whole.”

  “Oh.” She dared not look up at him. He found her attractive? It was not that she thought herself unappealing, but she had not supposed a gentleman such as Henry would give a lady such as herself a second thought. “You do not find me too outspoken or bookish?”

  Henry sighed. “Fanny was bookish,” he said softly, causing Constance to look up at him.

  There was a sadness in his eyes that caused her heart to ache for him. “You loved her?”

  He nodded and then shrugged. “Not enough, I suppose.”

  “I should like to hear your thoughts on that,” Mrs. Kendrick said. “As Trefor tells it, you had proposed marriage to this girl, and yet, you say you did not love her enough.” She rose and went to the door. “The decanter of sherry,” she said to Atkins.

  “This call is going to require something stouter than tea,” she said in explanation to Henry and Constance, “for I am considering allowing you to help this poor unfortunate soul, against my better judgment.” She held up a hand to forestall any comments from either her niece or Henry. “I am not agreeing to help; I am merely considering.”

  She returned to her seat and looked at Henry expectantly. “I believe the explanation of your statement will sway me one way or the other, and if it is as I suspect, and you are perceptive enough to realize it, then my consideration shall become a tentative agreement.”

  Henry’s brows furrowed. “I am not certain I understand your meaning.”

  Mrs. Kendrick waved the comment away. “It will become clear eventually. Proceed.”

  Henry rose and paced to the window. He knew that proposing such an idea as being told where his failings were would require some fortitude to listen to criticisms. He had not considered that he would be required to speak of Fanny. However, he seriously doubted that he could find another lady of Fanny’s caliber to accept him if he did not secure some assistance. So, drawing a deep breath and releasing it in a rush of air, he began. “If I had loved Miss Price enough to prove my worthiness as a husband, I would have gone to Everingham to please her rather than staying in town to attend a party to please my sister.”

  “True,” Mrs. Kendrick agreed.

  “Miss Price and her happiness should have been my focus.”

  “And it was not?” Mrs. Kendrick asked.

  Henry shook his head. “Obviously not.”

  Mrs. Kendrick motioned for the tray containing the decanter and glasses to be placed on the table next to her chair. “We will not be receiving any more callers today, Atkins,” she said as she dismissed the butler. “You say obviously not, Mr. Crawford, but to delay a trip to please a sister seems a reasonable thing.”

  Henry blew out another breath. He had thought that very thing when the idea had been proposed to him by Mary. A short delay was not of any great significance, after all. He had gone over these things in his mind a dozen or more times, chiding himself for his foolishness, as he came to terms with having lost Fanny.

  “I did not attend the party just to please Mary. I was curious. I wanted to see how Mrs. Rushworth was getting on with her husband.” He shook his head. “He was an oaf compared to her, so I expected to find her miserable.”

  “That is rather uncharitable, is it not?” Mrs. Kendrick asked.

  “Oh, indeed, it is, I suppose. But Mrs. Rushworth was so lively and quick, and Mr. Rushworth was so ─ not.”

  Mrs. Kendrick shrugged. “Unequal marriages are not so uncommon. One often chooses the most prudent choice. I assume Mrs. Rushworth accepted Mr. Rushworth for his wealth?”

  Henry nodded slowly. “She knew it was her duty to marry well, but she would have refused him had another put forth an offer ─ even if his standing was slightly less.”

  Mrs. Kendrick’s smile was knowing. “But you did not offer for her. Why?”

  Henry shrugged. He had known Maria wanted him to make an offer. It was not as if she had been backward in her attentions nor had she dissembled about her preference for him over Rushworth. Her words, her looks, the small touches, and the passionate embraces in various hidden corners had spoken loudly of her desire for Henry. However, to him, she was a dalliance, a lady with whom to have a bit of fun. It was heady having a beauty such as Maria Bertram, who was promised to another, so much in his power. “I did not wish to marry.”

  “Why?” Constance covered her mouth with her hand. She had intended to sit quietly and just observe, but once again, her tongue had been faster than her better judgment.

  “I will venture that Mr. Crawford was enjoying his status as a single young gentleman and did not wish to be parted from his carefree pursuit of pleasure.”

  Henry felt his face warm under Mrs. Kendrick’s stern glare.

  “But he proposed to Miss Price.”

  “That he did, my dear, but again, I will hazard a guess that Mr. Crawford’s heart was not engaged in regards to Miss Bertram nearly so much as his desires were.” Mrs. Kendrick poured a small glass of sherry for her niece. “However, with Miss Price, who was likely more circumspect and did not fan those flames of desire in the fashion that I suspect Miss Bertram did, there was time enough for Mr. Crawford’s heart to begin its work on his mind. It was then that he began considering marriage.”

  Henry accepted the glass Mrs. Kendrick handed him. “That is true,” he admitted. “It was simple enough to engage Miss Bertram’s affections. Miss Price was more determined to not be affected by my charms.” He took a sip of his drink. “I do not believe her capable of being swayed by the charms of any gentleman who was not her cousin.” His lips turned downwards in a scowl.

  Mrs. Kendrick’s brow rose. “Do I hear jealousy?”

  Henry shrugged. He had been ─ no — he was jealous of Edmund Bertram. “Why should I not be jealous? The man has all that I had hoped to attain.” He turned toward the window. “Edmund had always had it though. Fanny’s heart was not free to love another so long as her cousin remained single.” He shook his head at himself. “It is also my fault that he was not happily wed to someone other than Fanny.” He watched carriages pass on the road outside as the room fell into silence for a few moments.

  How foolish he had been to suppose that a dalliance such as he desired when he sought to make the cold and off-putting Mrs. Rushworth once again the warm and welcoming Miss Bertram could be concealed and quickly forgotten after the moment of pleasure had passed. Pleasure! What a heinous word! Promising delight and delivering sorrow!

  He turned back toward Mrs. Kendrick. “I sought only to please myself. I desired, so I pursued. I wished to be the smile on Mrs. Rushworth’s lips instead of her husband.” He huffed at his own shameless behaviour. “It was a game — one last game before I took up the mantle of responsibili
ty I knew I should have worn all along.” To his surprise, Mrs. Kendrick wore a smile when he finally lifted his eyes to her.

  “As I thought. You are not lost entirely to your reprehensible ways.” She drained the liquid from her glass. “And I think you are already in possession of the most important pieces of knowledge you need.” She filled her glass again. “Ladies are not play things. Love and marriage are not trifling matters with which to sport.” She lifted the decanter in an invitation to fill Henry’s glass again, but he declined.

  Henry nodded and sank into the chair he had first taken upon entering the room. It had been a lesson hard learned. The scars of it would likely not heal for some time. “Will you allow Miss Linton to help me to learn how to treat a lady properly? Please?”

  Mrs. Kendrick’s brows drew together and her lips pursed as she gave Henry a long assessing look, before draining her glass of sherry in one large draught. She shook her head and huffed as she looked toward the ceiling as if she was struggling to understand herself. “Yes,” she said after she had lowered her eyes to his. “Do not make me regret this decision.”

  Chapter 4

  “Crawford,” Linton greeted the next afternoon as he entered the sitting room where Henry was waiting for Constance. “What brings you to my house again today?”

  “Do try to sound civil,” Aunt Gwladys chided from her corner. “Remember that Mr. Crawford is your friend.”

  Linton raised a brow at his aunt. “I remember precisely who Crawford is, and I see his curricle in front of my house and wish to know why.”

  “He is taking Constance for a drive at my request.” Aunt Gwladys spared only a glance up at her nephew from her stitching. “Do you not remember that Constance and I are helping Mr. Crawford learn to be a proper gentleman?”

  “You said you were going to instruct him on how to treat a lady.”

  “And we are.”

  “By sending Constance out in his curricle with him?”