to engage in some substantial cuddling, for Henry had told her that Edmund's father had more or less given permission to do so in the privacy of their town-house.
And Fanny herself? She was still contemplating how the strapping cousin she had once known, who had usually ignored her and who had pained her by his lively joking and the pressure he put her under during the time of the play, but who had seemed but overly spirited and not totally without principle, had turned into such a vicious mind. Had it always been there? Or had his habits ruined him forever?
She decided to stop thinking about him and start enjoying the sights around her, having never traveled this road before, and the feeling of sitting on the box with Henry, the view indeed better from here, and the remembrance strong in her mind of her cousin Julia once thrilled to be there with the charming Mr Crawford. It seemed ages ago, and remembering her own feelings that day, she couldn't believe how events had unfolded.
Edmund with Mary had been a distinct possibility even then, a prospect that had filled her with dread, and rightfully so as it turned out. But herself engaged to the man who played her cousins shamelessly, and who had seemed to her at that time to be the most shallow creature on earth, incapable of any better feeling, it was just stunning. Who could ever have known that in the unprincipled flirt there was hidden a man of great passion, sure, that had always been more than evident, but also of great uprightness and tender feelings?
For to Fanny it had been very clear that his anger towards Tom, whilst mostly caused by anxiety for herself, was also due to the knowledge that Tom had probably taken advantage of dependents before and would undoubtedly do so again.
Henry had turned out to be a righteous man, and thinking of his old self and the man she knew and loved to distraction now, the difference was so great that she must have show her amazement on her face, for he turned towards her for a moment with a look of mild curiosity and said: 'A penny for your thoughts, Fanny. Would you care to share your revelation with me?'
She laughed, secure of his love so not afraid to tease him a little, and said: 'I was thinking of cousin Julia on this very box, admiring the view and your personal advantages.' It was hard to see with his rather dark natural colouring, but did his colour rise for a moment? He certainly sounded ashamed when he
observed: 'That is one period in my life I'd rather not remember very accurately, how you must have loathed me.' 'Actually, I didn't care much about you one way or the other, but I was very much ashamed of my cousins.
Will they be very down on me being with you, supposing that we meet them in London?' the very idea distressed Fanny, but Henry could quiet her feelings quickly: 'I'm planning to visit places of culture, not the kind of parties they thrive on. So I guess the chances of running into them are slim, and we need not invite them for dinner as the Rushworths exceed us in rank quite decidedly. My guess is that we're safe.' This knowledge did indeed help a little, but she was still a bit unsure, not really having an idea of the true size of London, and how easy it was to avoid seeing someone there.
Chapter 16
After lunch they changed places, Mary joining her brother on the box, and Fanny sitting with Edmund. She was glad to have a softer seat, and she could see brother and sister happily chatting, though Henry always kept his eye on the horses and the road.
Edmund snuggled really close to her, it was good to see him so free of reserve, so loving towards both Mary and herself, and he observed: 'I am really glad to be away from Tom for a few days. I've seen him sink into debauchery slowly the last year, and when he had reached what I thought would be his absolute low, being in danger of losing his life when I was with him in Newmarket, he went on to prove I was wrong, that he could sink still further.'
As she had been thinking on the same subject earlier, she asked Edmund the question she had asked herself: 'Do you think he was always this unprincipled, or did his vicious habits degrade him?' Edmund looked at her in pain, and he replied: 'I always thought him overconfident and thoughtless, but his transgression was so serious, and his conduct afterwards so unfeeling and unrepentant, that I am starting to wonder if he did not always lack true sensitivity.'
A sudden, shocking though caught him: 'He did not bother you before, did he? You would have been helpless against him, him being so strong and with your feeling of inferiority?' She could calm him easily: 'No, he did nothing worse than plague me to take the role in his play, or dance with me only to escape a card-party he didn't feel like joining. Only unthinking selfishness, not true vice.'
With a sigh of relief, Edmund told her: 'Well, I hope to forget about him the coming days, I'm very curious as to what amusements your beau has in store for us, and I will be curious what realization of his error our father may have gotten into Tom's thick head by the time we return. If he doesn't feel remorse by then, I do hope Crawford may crack his skull to let some sense in.'
Seeing Fanny's look of horror, he laughed and said: 'Yes, I'm trying to change
too, it has done you a world of good to allow some uncharitable thoughts once in a while, and I'm rather enjoying them. Henry will not hurt him very much, he's far too nice, and before you take fright for him, Tom's not a match for your intended, he's actually not very active nor very brave. And now I'm done with my spoiled brother, until we go back to Mansfield Park I am determined not to think of him.'
Though Henry had tried to comfort her, Fanny could not help asking Edmund about her cousins, too: 'Will Julia and Mrs Rushworth blame me very much for being with Henry, when they wanted him so much for themselves?'
Edmund replied: 'I don't see why that should bother you, it is clear Henry loves you and no-one else, I never saw any sign of admiration in him for either Maria or Julia.
If they imagined him in love with themselves, and showed their feelings indecorously, and were then disappointed in their hopes, that is entirely their problem, not yours. But if the idea of meeting them oppresses you, I will make sure we avoid them during our stay in town. And I'll ask Mary as well, I am thinking that Henry will not want to see them anyway. But you cannot avoid them on our mutual weddings, they will be present.'
'I know that, and I hope I will be too busy to have to notice them much.
Henry has promised me a small wedding anyway, I hope it will be over soon,'
Fanny mused.
Now it was Edmund's turn to tease her back, he prodded her in her side and drawled: 'Can't wait to hit the marriage-bed with Mr Crawford, my dearest cousin?' Since this was the absolute truth, and Edmund knew it, Fanny blushed a beautiful rosy-red, and he squeezed her white hand and said in a low voice: 'I can't blame you, sometimes when he looks at you in a certain way I cannot help thinking you have a very interesting time ahead of you.
That man is just ready to burst with passion. He's not like us, is he?
Untouched?'
Thrilled to be sharing her most intimate thoughts with Edmund again, even more so without that shameful secret weighing her down, she replied: 'I'm pretty certain he isn't, though I'm also pretty certain he has not seen anyone since he proposed to me. I have worried a little about his past, where he got his, well you know what, but since the episode with Tom I am convinced he'd never take advantage of a dependent. That settled, I don't even want to know.
Maybe he will tell me, maybe he will not, but he has proven himself to me beyond doubt, and what is in the past will remain there.'
'You are still my example for a perfect woman, Fanny, your goodness just puts me to shame,' Edmund said. 'I have tried to do what you advised me to do, and it worked beyond my imagination. Mary was so happy I finally dared touch her she nearly cried, and since then we have gone a little further slowly but surely. We've kissed a few times after I got back from Newmarket, and it was good, and getting better all the time.
Thinking of Henry's passion, I still feel lacking sometimes, but when we are married I will not have to be afraid to lose control anymore. I have a feeling we will be taking another small step soon, my fat
her almost encouraged us to be intimate in his town-house.'
'Did he? That is promising indeed,' Fanny observed, 'I'm looking forward to this very much. Even in the depths of despair Henry's offer to take me to the theatre and to concerts made an impression. It made me want to live, to have that experience.' 'You didn't seriously consider dying, did you, Fanny?'
Edmund asked intently. 'When I lost every hope of your love, for some time I lost everything, and I did think I might as well die, yes. No-one cared about me, no-one except you had ever given me the slightest feeling of being wanted. It was Henry's devotion that saved me, he cared for me enough to not give up on me, to want to see me happy even if there was no gain to himself.'
The memory squeezed her throat shut so tightly, that she could only just hold back tears.
'You have been so closed to me, Fanny, why didn't you ever share your feelings with me? Even if I couldn't answer them, I would have comforted you, I would have understood. To think I might have lost you, without ever having known the danger.' Edmund was in anguish over this idea, and seeing the love he really had for her was gratifying. She could see how he could have used the knowledge of her affection to make a decision, she might even have gained his love, for it was clear it had just never occurred to him to think of his cousin as his wife.
'I couldn't face the thought of being blamed for my love, for looking above my station, for falling in love with the son of my benefactor, it was just so inappropriate.' Seeing how much the memory distressed her, he decided to change the subject to something more uplifting, although he really wanted to know all, he needed to know all that had happened, all that she had felt. She had always been the person he loved most in the world, even when first in love with Mary.
It was not right that something would come between them, even though it
would distress her a lot to tell him all of it.
He tried to explain his feeling: 'Fanny, I don't want to upset you, talking about the past, but I need to know. You were the only person I really loved until I met Mary, and I need to know exactly how you felt all these years. But it can wait until we are both married, until you have met the whole of Henry, for I am guessing that the best part of him is still waiting to be discovered on your wedding-night. Will you talk to me at a later date, tell me everything? I want to be part of your life forever, and as close as we used to be.' Of course, Fanny could not but be touched by this plea, and she promised him to tell him every particular of her life that he didn't know yet. It felt good, to have both a passionate lover and a trustworthy friend.
They changed seats once more before reaching the inn where they would spend the night, Mary eager for a softer seat, and a quiet head-to-head talk with her sister. Edmund moved to the box, looking forward to getting some useful directions on pleasing a woman from the man he considered an expert.
Henry did not seem to get tired of traveling, he was as cheerful as ever and very willing to give his friend some discreet hints about how to allow a certain amount of passion to be built up inside a man without losing control, and if stimulated too much accidentally, how to regain control without anyone noticing. He was clearly looking forward very much to the evenings at the Bertrams' town-house, making the most of Sir Thomas' encouragement to indulge in some loving attentions without breaking the boundaries of propriety.
They talked about possible outings, Henry planned to visit a park every day to allow Fanny her exercise, then maybe go to an art exhibition or a museum.
There would be music and theatre to attend to as well, and of course they could drive around town to see the sights.
Whilst they discussed the pleasures of London, Mary told Fanny in a low voice: 'He did it, your cousin finally touched me. I showed him my approval and since then he has steadily increased his attentions. I'm so happy, I knew he was not a very forthcoming man, but I started to fear he would never love me tenderly, just spiritually.'
'He certainly has become a lot looser to me,' Fanny remarked, 'I do think that is your influence, he shows his feelings more easily in a physical way. I'm certain it will all turn out well. Your brother is much more passionate, and I do suspect he has a certain experience with women that Edmund lacks, but I'm sure there is a lot of feeling in my cousin, and it will come out
eventually.'
'And you don't mind, about my brother?' Mary asked. Fanny replied: 'I have no fault to find in his manners to me, he has delivered me from despair and treated me with distinction always, how could I reproach him something I only suspect, and which has no bearing on our current situation?'
Mary nodded, then asked laughingly: 'Do you want to see your cousins when in town, show off your catch?' The very thought horrified Fanny, and of course her face showed her feelings, and Mary said: 'I'm sorry Fanny, I didn't mean to offend you. Of course you don't want to brag to your cousins, I tend not too think before I speak. For if I think about it, you must be afraid to meet them, feel their disapproval, because they are jealous. But you need not fear to run in to them my dear, London is very large and they will not even know we are there. And they only visit parties, not public theaters or parks.'
With three people who knew the ways of the city predicting she would not meet her cousins, Fanny finally started to believe it, and she managed to forget about them very thoroughly in the pleasures of the trip.
The rest of the day of travel, and the next, were spent in a similar manner, in pleasant conversation and in constant surprise at some beautiful sight or other, at least for Fanny. They reached the Bertrams' town-house in good time, and were welcomed by the butler, who showed them their rooms, after having inquired after Mr Bertram's condition and been told he was on the mend steadily.
Fanny had of course heard a lot of this house, but she had never before seen it, and Henry thought that a crying shame, evidence of the neglect that had always been her part. Bertram seemed to feel it too, as his cousin looked around in wonder, acquainting herself with the rooms she should have been long familiar with.
But Fanny was not of a disposition to feel herself neglected, she just enjoyed everything now, not looking back at the past. Henry was just glad that the house's one real disadvantage had been removed with the presence of Tom Bertram, whom he had never really liked but positively despised right now.
Of course the furniture and the decor of the rooms was very old-fashioned, and barely comfortable, but the servants were very diligent and it would do very well for a few day's enjoyment of city-life.
Fanny had a chamber really close to his own, and the others were on the same floor.
There was little staff, so they had to make do with little help, but the absence of a lot of servants in the house was a distinct advantage to Henry, for he was planning to enjoy Sir Thomas' advice on discrete intimacy to the full.
Chapter 17
As soon as they had washed off some of the dirt of the road in their chambers, they gathered in the drawing room for refreshments, and Edmund and Mary were already taking Sir Thomas' advice to heart, sitting close and holding hands openly.
Henry did not find that offensive, for he soon found a welcome as warm and as intimate with his very own Fanny, who looked very eager for such a modest creature. Sitting as close to her as he dared, he was silently enjoying the turn his life had taken, a bit tired also from two days of constant attention to the horses and the road, and he let his head rest on Fanny's shoulder.
He could feel his eyes nearly close, so incredibly happy that this was his reality, almost married to the best and sweetest girl he had ever seen, his sister engaged to marry his friend, and in London for a visit of amusement of the truest and most exalted kind. He would get a paper first thing in the morning, and see what the city had to offer this.... That was as far as his musings got, for he felt a small, warm hand on the bare skin of his back.
His passion went into overdrive, and he felt an excitement in another place that he was glad his sitting posture hid rather well, made easier by the fact that the only o
ther people in their company were engaged in their own affairs, though probably a little less forwardly.
The hand stayed put for a moment, and at the precise moment that he had adapted to the feel of it, schooling his expression to his former sleepy satisfaction, relaxing his muscles one by one, it moved again, feeling the whole of his back, his shoulders, as far as it would reach.
It explored his firm muscles, his slightly ticklish sides, the softer skin under his arms.
By now he was used to the touch, and he enjoyed it very much, the feeling itself but also the fact that Fanny was tired of waiting and dared to take the initiative for some forbidden fruits. He leaned against her, letting his sleepiness take over again, and soon he felt his eyes fall shut, still relishing her loving touch on his heated skin.
Then suddenly the hand was on his stomach. Wide awake, anxiously checking their companions, he found them totally involved in each other, talking quietly and intimately, touching as much as they dared.
He schooled his expression back to sleepiness, tried to relax, as the hand, unseen under his loose shirt, did the same as before, only on his other side.
He leaned back and tried to enjoy the caresses, but it was difficult to control his urges, he wanted so much to grab her and kiss her.
Still, he got used to this situation too and managed to give himself up to her gentle stroking, first of his tight stomach, then his chest, with its sensitive nipples and the short hair covering most of it. He managed to look at Fanny and she was enjoying herself hugely, deriving pleasure from the feel of him, but also from his strong reactions.
For some moments he was afraid she'd let that hand slide into his trousers next, however much he wanted her to do that, he was sure he'd lose every semblance of control if she did. But she didn't, fortunately she didn't dare do that in company, or maybe not at all until they were married.
Mansfield Park the Crawfords' Redemption Page 11