Twenty minutes passed, and Fanny began to be surprised at being left so long, and to listen anxiously for their steps and voices. At length she heard voices approaching; but it was not those she wanted. Miss Bertram, Mr. Rushworth, and Mr. Crawford were before her.
"My dear Fanny, how comes this?"
She told her story. "Poor dear Fanny," cried Maria, "how ill you have been used! You had better have stayed with us."
Seating herself with a gentleman on each side, Maria resumed their conversation, discussing the possible improvements with much animation. Nothing was fixed on; but Henry Crawford was full of ideas, and whatever he proposed was immediately approved, first by her, and then by Mr. Rushworth, who scarcely risked an original thought of his own.
After some minutes, Miss Bertram, observing the iron gate, expressed a wish of passing through it into the park, that their views and plans might be more comprehensive. It was the best way of proceeding, in Henry Crawford's opinion; and he saw a knoll not half a mile off, which would give them a view of the house. Go therefore they must to that knoll; but the gate was locked.
Mr. Rushworth wished he had brought the key; he had been very near to bringing the key; he was determined he would never come without the key again; but this did not remove the present evil. They could not get through; and it ended in Mr. Rushworth's declaring that he would go and fetch the key. He set off accordingly.
When he was gone, Maria addressed Mr Crawford. "Sincerely, do not you find the place worse than you expected?"
"No, indeed. I find it grander, more complete in its style, though that style may not be the best. And to tell you the truth," speaking rather lower, "I do not think that I shall ever see Sotherton again with so much pleasure as I do now. Another summer will hardly improve it to me."
After a moment's embarrassment the lady replied, "You are too much a man of the world not to see with the eyes of the world. If other people think Sotherton improved, I have no doubt that you will."
"I am afraid I am not so much the man of the world as might be good for me. My feelings are not quite so light as is the case with men of the world."
There was a short silence. Miss Bertram began again. "You seemed to enjoy your drive here very much this morning. I was glad to see you so well entertained. You and Julia were laughing the whole way."
"Were we? Yes, I believe we were; but I have not the least recollection at what. Oh! I believe I was relating to her some ridiculous stories of an old Irish groom of my uncle's. Your sister loves to laugh."
"You think her more light-hearted than I am?"
"More easily amused," he replied, smiling. "I could not have hoped to entertain you with Irish anecdotes during a ten miles' drive."
"Naturally, I believe, I am as lively as Julia, but I have more to think of now."
"You have, undoubtedly. Your prospects, however, are fair. You have a very smiling scene before you."
"Do you mean literally or figuratively? Literally, I conclude. Yes, certainly, the sun shines, and the park looks very cheerful. But unluckily that iron gate, that ha-ha, give me a feeling of restraint and hardship. 'I cannot get out,' as the starling said." As she spoke, and it was with expression, she walked to the gate: he followed her. "Mr. Rushworth is so long fetching this key!"
"And for the world you would not get out without the key and without Mr. Rushworth's authority, or I think you might easily pass round the edge of the gate, here, with my assistance; I think it might be done, if you really wished to be more at large, and did not think it prohibited."
"Prohibited! nonsense! I certainly can get out that way, and I will. Mr. Rushworth will be here in a moment; we shall not be out of sight."
"Or if we are, Miss Price will tell him that he will find us on that knoll."
Fanny, feeling all this to be wrong, could not help making an effort to prevent it. "You will hurt yourself, Miss Bertram," she cried; "you will tear your gown; you will be in danger of slipping into the ha-ha. You had better not go."
Her cousin was safe on the other side while these words were spoken, and, smiling with the good-humour of success, she said, "Thank you, dear Fanny, but I and my gown are alive and well, and so good-bye."
Fanny was again left alone, and with no pleasant feelings, for she was astonished at Miss Bertram, and angry with Mr. Crawford. By taking a circuitous and very unreasonable direction to the knoll, they were soon beyond her eye; and for some minutes she had the little wood all to herself.
She was again roused by sudden footsteps: somebody was coming at a quick pace down the walk. She expected Mr. Rushworth, but it was Julia, who, hot and out of breath, and with a look of disappointment, cried out, "Heyday! Where are the others? I thought Maria and Mr. Crawford were with you."
Fanny explained.
"A pretty trick, upon my word! I cannot see them. But they cannot be far off, and I think I am equal to as much as Maria, even without help."
"But, Julia, Mr. Rushworth will be here in a moment with the key. Do wait for Mr. Rushworth."
"Not I, indeed. I have had enough of the family for one morning. Why, I have but this moment escaped from his horrible mother. Such a penance as I have endured, while you were sitting here composed and happy! You always contrive to keep out of these scrapes."
This was a most unjust reflection, but Fanny could allow for it, for Julia was vexed. She therefore only asked her if she had seen Mr. Rushworth.
"Yes, he was hurrying away as if upon life and death, and could just spare time to tell us his errand."
"It is a pity he should have so much trouble for nothing."
"That is Miss Maria's concern. I am not obliged to punish myself for her sins. The mother I could not avoid, but the son I can get away from."
And she immediately scrambled across the fence, and walked away. Fanny now sat in dread of seeing Mr. Rushworth; she felt that he had been very ill-used.
He joined her five minutes after Julia's exit; and though she made the best of the story, he was evidently greatly mortified. His looks expressed his extreme surprise and vexation, and he walked to the gate and stood there, without seeming to know what to do.
"My cousin Maria charged me to say that you would find them at that knoll."
"I shall not go," said he sullenly; "I see nothing of them. By the time I get to the knoll they may be somewhere else. I have had walking enough."
And he sat down gloomily by Fanny.
"I am very sorry," said she.
"I think they might have stayed for me," said he.
"Miss Bertram thought you would follow her."
"I should not have had to follow her if she had stayed."
Fanny was silenced. After a pause, he went on—"Pray, Miss Price, are you such a great admirer of this Mr. Crawford as some people are? For my part, I can see nothing in him."
"I do not think him at all handsome."
"Handsome! Nobody can call such an undersized man handsome. He is not more than five foot eight. In my opinion, these Crawfords are no addition at all. We did very well without them."
A small sigh escaped Fanny here.
"If I had made any difficulty about fetching the key, there might have been some excuse, but I went the very moment she said she wanted it."
"Nothing could be more obliging, I am sure, and I dare say you walked as fast as you could; but still it is some distance, you know; and when people are waiting, every half minute seems like five."
He got up and walked to the gate again. Fanny thought he was inclined to relent, and she said, therefore, "It is a pity you should not join them. They expected to have a better view of the house from there, and will be thinking how it may be improved; and nothing can be settled without you."
"Well," said he, "if you really think I had better go: it would be foolish to bring the key for nothing." And letting himself out, he walked off.
Fanny's thoughts were now engrossed by the two who had left her so long ago, and getting quite impatient, she resolved to go in search of them. She fol
lowed their steps along the bottom walk, and had just turned up into another, when the laugh of Miss Crawford caught her ear; a few more windings brought them before her. They were just returned from the park, and they had been into the very avenue which Fanny had been hoping the whole morning to reach, and had been sitting down under one of the trees. This was their history. It was evident that they had been spending their time pleasantly, and were not aware of the length of their absence.
Fanny was assured that Edmund had wished for her very much, and that he should certainly have come back for her, had she not been tired; but this was not sufficient to ease the pain of having been left a whole hour, when he had talked of only a few minutes, nor to banish the curiosity she felt to know what they had been talking about all that time; and she felt depressed as they returned to the house.
As they reached the bottom of the terrace, Mrs. Rushworth and Mrs. Norris appeared at the top, just ready for the wilderness. Mrs. Norris had been too well employed to move faster; for the housekeeper had taken her to the dairy, told her all about their cows, and given her the recipe for a famous cream cheese; and they had met the gardener, with whom she had made a most satisfactory acquaintance, for she had set him right as to his grandson's illness, and he had shown her his choicest plants, and presented her with a specimen of heath.
They all returned to the house together, to lounge away the time till the return of the others, and the arrival of dinner. It was late before the Miss Bertrams and the two gentlemen came in, and their ramble did not appear to have been productive of anything useful. By their own accounts they had been all walking after each other, and the meeting which had taken place at last seemed to have been too late to re-establish harmony. There was gloom on the faces of Julia and Mr Rushworth. Mr. Crawford and Miss Bertram were much more gay, and Fanny thought that he was taking particular pains to do away any resentment of the other two, and restore good-humour.
They sat down to table, and then it was a quick succession of busy nothings till the carriage came to the door. Mrs. Norris, having obtained a few pheasants' eggs and a cream cheese from the housekeeper, was ready to lead the way.
Mr. Crawford, approaching Julia, said, "I hope I am not to lose my companion, unless she is afraid of the evening air in so exposed a seat." The request had not been foreseen, but was very graciously received, and Julia's day was likely to end almost as well as it began. Miss Bertram was a little disappointed; but her conviction of being really the one preferred comforted her, and she received Mr. Rushworth's parting attentions as she ought. He was certainly better pleased to hand her into the barouche than to assist her in ascending the box.
"Well, Fanny, this has been a fine day for you," said Mrs. Norris, as they drove through the park. "Nothing but pleasure from beginning to end! You ought to be very much obliged to your aunt Bertram and me for contriving to let you go. A pretty good day's amusement you have had!"
Maria was just discontented enough to say, "I think you have done pretty well yourself, ma'am. Your lap seems full of good things, and here is a basket of something knocking my elbow unmercifully."
"My dear, it is only a beautiful little heath, which that nice old gardener would have me take. Fanny, you carry that parcel for me; take great care of it: it is a cream cheese. Nothing would satisfy that good old Mrs. Whitaker, but my taking one of the cheeses. I stood out as long as I could, till the tears almost came into her eyes. That Mrs. Whitaker is a treasure! I can manage the basket very well."
"What else have you been sponging?" said Maria.
"Sponging, my dear! It is nothing but four of those beautiful pheasants' eggs, which Mrs. Whitaker would quite force upon me. She said it must be such an amusement to me, as I lived quite alone, to have a few living creatures. It will be a great delight in my lonely hours to attend to them."
It was a beautiful evening, and the drive was pleasant; but when Mrs. Norris ceased speaking, those within were altogether silent. Their spirits were exhausted; and to determine whether the day had afforded most pleasure or pain, might occupy the thoughts of almost all.
CHAPTER 11