Jane Austen's Mansfield Park: Abridged

by Emma Laybourn

The young people were pleased with each other from the first. The Miss Bertrams were too handsome themselves to dislike any woman for being so too, and were as much charmed as their brothers with Miss Crawford’s lively dark eye, clear brown complexion, and general prettiness. Had she been tall, full formed, and fair, it might have been more of a trial: but as it was, there could be no comparison; and she was allowably a sweet, pretty girl, while they were the finest young women in the country.

  Her brother was not handsome: no, he was absolutely plain; but still a gentleman, with a pleasing address. The second meeting proved him not so very plain: he was so expressive, and so well made, that one soon forgot he was plain; and after a third interview, he was no longer allowed to be called so by anybody. He was, in fact, the most agreeable young man the sisters had ever known. Miss Bertram's engagement made him the property of Julia, of which Julia was fully aware; and before he had been at Mansfield a week, she was quite ready to be fallen in love with.

  Maria's notions on the subject were more confused. She did not want to see or understand. "There could be no harm in her liking an agreeable man—everybody knew her situation—Mr. Crawford must take care of himself." Mr. Crawford did not mean to be in any danger! the Miss Bertrams were worth pleasing, and he began with no object but of making them like him. He did not want them to die of love; but he allowed himself great latitude on such points.

  "I like your Miss Bertrams exceedingly, sister," said he, as they returned from a dinner visit; "very elegant, agreeable girls."

  "I am delighted to hear you say it. But you like Julia best."

  "Oh yes! I like Julia best."

  "But do you really? for Miss Bertram is in general thought the handsomest."

  "Miss Bertram is certainly the handsomest, and I have found her the most agreeable, but I shall always like Julia best, because you order me."

  "I shall not talk to you, Henry, but I know you will like her best at last."

  "Do not I tell you that I like her best at first?"

  "And besides, Miss Bertram is engaged. Remember that, my dear brother."

  "Yes, and I like her the better for it. An engaged woman is always more agreeable. She feels that she may exert her powers of pleasing without suspicion. All is safe with her: no harm can be done."

  "Mr. Rushworth is a very good sort of man, and it is a great match."

  "But Miss Bertram does not care three straws for him; that is your opinion. I do not subscribe to it. I am sure Miss Bertram is very much attached to Mr. Rushworth. I could see it in her eyes, when he was mentioned. I think too well of Miss Bertram to suppose she would ever give her hand without her heart."

  "Mary, how shall we manage him?"

  "Talking does no good. He will be taken in at last."

  "But I would not have him taken in; I would not have him duped."

  "Oh dear! let him stand his chance and be taken in. Everybody is taken in at some time or other."

  "Not always in marriage, dear Mary."

  "In marriage especially. With all due respect, my dear Mrs. Grant, there is not one in a hundred who is not taken in when they marry. It is, of all transactions, the one in which people expect most from others, and are least honest themselves."

  "Ah! You have been in a bad school for matrimony, in Hill Street."

  "My poor aunt had certainly little cause to love the state; but I know many who have married in the expectation of some good quality in the person, who have found themselves entirely deceived, and been obliged to put up with exactly the reverse. What is this but a take in?"

  "My dear child, I cannot quite believe you. You see but half. You see the evil, but you do not see the consolation. There will be little disappointments everywhere, and we are all apt to expect too much; but those evil-minded observers, dearest Mary, who make much of a little, are more deceived than the parties themselves."

  "Well done, sister! When I am a wife, I mean to be just as staunch myself."

  "You are as bad as your brother, Mary; but stay with us, and Mansfield shall cure you both, without any taking in."

  The Crawfords were very willing to stay. Mary was satisfied with the Parsonage as a home, and Henry equally ready to lengthen his visit. He had come, intending to spend only a few days; but Mansfield promised well. It delighted Mrs. Grant to keep them both, and Dr. Grant was well contented to have the society of a pretty young woman like Miss Crawford; while Mr. Crawford's being his guest was an excuse for drinking claret every day.

  Miss Crawford acknowledged that the Mr. Bertrams were very fine young men, and their manners, particularly those of the eldest, were very good. He had been much in London, and had more liveliness and gallantry than Edmund, and must, therefore, be preferred; and, indeed, his being the eldest was another strong claim. She had felt a presentiment that she should like the eldest best. She knew it was her way.

  Tom Bertram was the sort of young man to be generally liked, for he had easy manners, excellent spirits, a large acquaintance, and a great deal to say; and the reversion of Mansfield Park, and a baronetcy, did no harm to all this. Miss Crawford soon felt that he and his situation might do. She looked about her, and found almost everything in his favour: a real park, five miles round, a spacious modern-built house, well placed and well-screened, and wanting only to be completely new furnished—pleasant sisters, a quiet mother, and an agreeable man himself—with the advantages of being prevented from gambling by a promise to his father, and of being Sir Thomas hereafter. It might do very well; she believed she should accept him; and she began accordingly to interest herself about the horse which he was going to run at the races.

  These races were to call him away soon; and as the family did not expect him back for many weeks, it would bring his passion to an early proof. Much was said on his side to induce her to attend the races, and eager schemes were made for a large party, but it was no more than talk.

  And Fanny, what was she doing all this while? and what was her opinion of the newcomers? Few young ladies of eighteen could be less called on to speak their opinion than Fanny. In a quiet way, she paid her tribute to Miss Crawford's beauty; but she continued to think Mr. Crawford very plain, in spite of her two cousins having proved the contrary.

  "Pray, is Miss Price out, or not?" said Miss Crawford, as she was walking with the Mr. Bertrams. "I am puzzled. She dined at the Parsonage, with the rest of you, which seemed like being out; and yet she says so little, that I can hardly suppose she is."

  Edmund replied, "I will not undertake to answer. My cousin has the age and sense of a woman, but the outs and not outs are beyond me."

  "And yet, in general, nothing can be more easily ascertained. Till now, I could not have supposed it possible to be mistaken as to a girl's being out or not. A girl not out has always the same sort of dress: looks very demure, and never says a word. You may smile, but it is so, I assure you; and it is very proper. Girls should be quiet and modest. But the alteration of manners on being introduced into company is frequently too sudden. They sometimes pass in such very little time from reserve to confidence! One does not like to see a girl of eighteen so immediately up to everything when she was hardly able to speak the year before. Mr. Bertram, I dare say you have met with such changes."

  "I have, but this is hardly fair. You are quizzing me and Miss Anderson."

  "No, indeed. I do not know who you mean. But I will quiz you gladly, if you will tell me what about."

  "Ah! You must have had Miss Anderson in your eye, in describing an altered young lady. You paint too accurately for mistake. Edmund, you have heard me mention Charles Anderson. When he first introduced me to his family, his sister was not out, and I could not get her to speak to me. I sat an hour one morning waiting for Anderson, with the mother in and out every moment, and I could hardly get a word from the young lady—she screwed up her mouth, and turned from me with such an air! I did not see her again for a twelvemonth. She was then out. She came up to me, claimed me as an acquaintance, and talked and laughed till
I did not know which way to look. I felt that I must be the jest of the room, and Miss Crawford, it is plain, has heard the story."

  "A very pretty story. It is too common a fault. Mothers certainly have not got quite the right way of managing their daughters. I do not know where the error lies. I do not pretend to set people right, but I do see that they are often wrong."

  "Those who show the world what female manners should be," said Mr. Bertram gallantly, "are doing much to set them right."

  "The error is plain enough," said the less courteous Edmund; "such girls are ill brought up. They are given wrong notions from the beginning. There is no more real modesty in their behaviour before they appear in public than afterwards."

  "I do not know," replied Miss Crawford hesitatingly. "I cannot agree. It is much worse to have girls not out give themselves the same airs as if they were. That is quite disgusting!"

  "Yes, very inconvenient indeed," said Mr. Bertram. "It leads one astray. The demure air tells one what is expected; but I got into a dreadful scrape last year. I went down to Ramsgate with a friend last September. My friend Sneyd—you have heard me speak of Sneyd, Edmund—his father, mother, and sisters were there, all new to me. We went to meet them, and found them on the pier: I made my bow, and attached myself to one of Mrs Sneyd’s daughters, walked by her side, and made myself agreeable; the young lady perfectly easy in her manners, and as ready to talk as to listen. I had not a suspicion that I was doing anything wrong. They looked just the same: but I afterwards found that I had been giving all my attention to the youngest, who was not out, and had excessively offended the eldest. Miss Sneyd has never forgiven me."

  "Poor Miss Sneyd. I feel for her; but it was the mother's fault. But now I must be satisfied about Miss Price. Does she go to balls? Does she dine out everywhere?"

  "No," replied Edmund; "I do not think Fanny has ever been to a ball. She stays at home with my mother."

  "Oh! then the point is clear. Miss Price is not out."

  CHAPTER 6