Mr. Bertram set off, and Miss Crawford was prepared to miss him decidedly in the meetings between the families; and on their dining together at the Park soon after his going, she fully expected to feel a melancholy difference. It would be a flat business, she was sure. Edmund would have nothing to say. The soup would be sent round in a spiritless manner, wine drank without any agreeable trifling, and the venison cut up without one pleasant anecdote about "my friend such a one."
She must try to find amusement in observing Mr. Rushworth, who was now at Mansfield. He had been visiting a friend in the neighbouring county, and that friend having recently had his grounds laid out, Mr. Rushworth returned with his head full of the subject. Eager to improve his own place in the same way, he could talk of nothing else. The subject had been already handled in the drawing-room; it was revived in the dining-parlour. Miss Bertram's attention was his chief aim; and though she showed more superiority than solicitude, the mention of Sotherton Court gave her a feeling of complacency, which made her gracious.
"I wish you could see Compton," said he; "I never saw a place so altered in my life. The approach now, is one of the finest in the country: you see the house in the most surprising manner. I declare, when I got back to Sotherton yesterday, it looked like a dismal old prison."
"Oh, for shame!" cried Mrs. Norris. "Sotherton Court is the noblest old place in the world."
"It wants improvement, ma'am. It is so forlorn that I do not know what can be done with it. I need some good friend to help me."
"Your best friend upon such an occasion," said Miss Bertram calmly, "would be Mr. Repton."
"That is what I was thinking. As he has done so well by Smith, I think I had better have him. His terms are five guineas a day."
"Well, and if they were ten," cried Mrs. Norris, "I am sure you need not regard it. Sotherton Court deserves everything that taste and money can do. If I had anything the fiftieth part of the size of Sotherton, I should be always improving. It would be ridiculous for me to attempt anything where I am now, with my little half acre. But if I had more, I should take a prodigious delight in improving and planting. We did a vast deal in that way at the Parsonage: and would have done more, but for poor Mr. Norris's sad state of health. We put in the apricot against the stable wall, which is now such a noble tree, sir," addressing herself to Dr. Grant.
"The tree thrives well, madam," replied Dr. Grant. "The soil is good; and I never pass it without regretting that the fruit should be so little worth the trouble of gathering."
"Sir, it is a Moor Park, and it cost us—that is, it was a present from Sir Thomas, but I saw the bill—and I know it cost seven shillings."
"You were imposed on, ma'am," replied Dr. Grant: "The fruit from that tree is insipid."
"The truth is, ma'am," said Mrs. Grant, pretending to whisper across the table, "that Dr. Grant hardly knows what the natural taste of our apricot is: he is scarcely ever indulged with one, for it is so valuable a fruit, that what with tarts and preserves, my cook contrives to get them all."
Mrs. Norris, who had begun to redden, was appeased. Mr. Rushworth began again. "Smith's place is the admiration of all the country; and it was nothing before Repton took it in hand. I think I shall have Repton."
"Mr. Rushworth," said Lady Bertram, "if I were you, I would have a pretty shrubbery."
Mr. Rushworth was eager to assure her ladyship of this, and tried to say something complimentary; but, between admiring her good taste, and his having always intended the same, and professing his attention to the ladies’ comfort, but meaning one lady especially, he grew puzzled; and Edmund was glad to put an end to his speech by a proposal of wine. Mr. Rushworth, however, had still more to say on the subject next his heart. "Smith has not much above a hundred acres. Now, at Sotherton we have seven hundred; so that I think we need not despair. There have been two or three fine old trees cut down, and it opens the prospect amazingly, which makes me think that Repton would certainly have the avenue at Sotherton down: the avenue from the west front to the hill, you know," turning to Miss Bertram.
"Oh! I do not recollect it. I really know very little of Sotherton."
Fanny, sitting beside Edmund, said to him in a low voice—
"Cut down an avenue! What a pity! Does it not make you think of Cowper? 'Ye fallen avenues, once more I mourn your fate unmerited.'"
He smiled. "I am afraid the avenue stands a bad chance, Fanny."
"I should like to see Sotherton before it is cut down; but I do not suppose I shall."
"Have you never been there? Unluckily, it is too far for a ride. I wish we could contrive it."
"Oh! it does not signify."
"I collect," said Miss Crawford, "that Sotherton is an old place of some grandeur. In any particular style of building?"
"The house was built in Elizabeth's time,” said Edmund, "and is a large brick building; heavy, but respectable, with many good rooms. It is ill placed, in one of the lowest spots of the park. But the woods are fine, and there is a stream, which might be made a good deal of. Mr. Rushworth is quite right, I think, in meaning to give it a modern dress, and I have no doubt that it will be done extremely well."
Miss Crawford listened, and said to herself, "He is a well-bred man; he makes the best of it."
"I do not wish to influence Mr. Rushworth," he continued; "but, had I a place to fashion, I should not put myself into the hands of an improver. I would rather have an inferior degree of beauty, of my own choice."
"That would not suit me. I have no eye for such matters; and had I a place of my own, I should be most thankful to any Mr. Repton who would undertake it; and I should never look at it till it was complete."
"It would be delightful to me to see its progress," said Fanny.
"I consider improvements as the greatest of nuisances. Three years ago the Admiral, my honoured uncle, bought a cottage at Twickenham for us to spend our summers in; and my aunt and I went down to it quite in raptures; but being excessively pretty, it had to be improved, and for three months we were all dirt and confusion. I would have everything complete, shrubberies and flower-gardens, and rustic seats: but it must be done without my care. Henry is different; he loves to be doing."
Edmund was sorry to hear Miss Crawford, whom he was disposed to admire, speak so freely of her uncle. It did not suit his sense of propriety, and he was silenced, till induced by further smiles to put the matter by.
"Mr. Bertram," said she, "I have tidings of my harp at last. I am assured that it is safe at Northampton; and has probably been there these ten days, in spite of the solemn assurances we received to the contrary." Edmund expressed his pleasure and surprise. "The truth is, that our inquiries were too direct; but this morning we heard of it in the right way. It was seen by some farmer, and he told the miller, and the miller told the butcher, and the butcher's son-in-law left word at the shop."
"I am very glad that you have heard of it, by whatever means."
"I am to have it to-morrow; but I could hire no wagon in the village to convey it."
"You found it difficult, in the middle of hay harvest, to hire a horse and cart?"
"I was astonished to find what a piece of work was made of it! I thought it would be only ask and have. Guess my surprise, when I found that I had been asking the most unreasonable thing in the world; had offended all the farmers in the parish!"
"You could not be expected to have thought of it; but you must see the importance of getting in the grass. In harvest, it must be quite out of our farmers’ power to spare a horse."
"I shall understand all your ways in time; but, coming down with the London maxim, that everything is to be got with money, I was a little embarrassed by the sturdy independence of your country customs. However, I am to have my harp to-morrow. Henry, who is good-nature itself, has offered to fetch it in his barouche."
Edmund spoke of the harp as his favourite instrument, and hoped to be allowed to hear her. Fanny had never heard the harp at all, and wished for it very much.
"I
shall be most happy to play to you both," said Miss Crawford; "for as long as you like to listen: probably longer. Mr. Bertram, if you write to your brother, tell him that my harp is come: and that I shall prepare my most plaintive airs for his return, as I know his horse will lose."
"If I write, I will say whatever you wish; but I do not foresee any need to write."
"What strange creatures brothers are! You would not write to each other but upon the most urgent necessity, and in the fewest possible words. You have but one style among you. I know it perfectly. Henry, who is in every other respect exactly what a brother should be, who confides in me, and will talk to me by the hour together, has never yet used a second page in a letter; and often it is nothing more than—'Dear Mary, I am just arrived. Bath seems full, and everything as usual. Yours sincerely.' That is a complete brother's letter."
"When they are far from their family," said Fanny, colouring, "they can write long letters."
"Miss Price has a brother at sea," said Edmund, "whose excellence as a correspondent makes her think you too severe."
"At sea? In the king's service?"
Fanny would rather have had Edmund tell the story, but his determined silence obliged her to relate her brother's situation: her voice was animated, but she could not mention the number of years that he had been absent without tears in her eyes. Miss Crawford civilly wished him an early promotion.
"Do you know anything of my cousin's captain?" said Edmund; "Captain Marshall? You have a large acquaintance in the navy, I conclude?"
"Among admirals, large enough; but," with an air of grandeur, "we know very little of the inferior ranks. Post-captains may be very good sort of men, but they do not belong to us. Of various admirals I could tell you a great deal: of their flags, and their pay, and their bickerings and jealousies. Certainly, my home at my uncle's brought me acquainted with a circle of admirals. Of Rears and Vices I saw enough. Now do not be suspecting me of a pun, I entreat."
Edmund again felt grave, and only replied, "It is a noble profession."
"Yes, it is well enough; but it is not a favourite profession of mine."
Edmund reverted to the harp, and was again very happy in the prospect of hearing her play.
The subject of improving grounds, meanwhile, was still under consideration among the others; and Mrs. Grant addressed her brother.
"My dear Henry, have you nothing to say? You have been an improver yourself, and Everingham’s natural beauties are great. Such a happy fall of ground, and such timber! What would I not give to see it again?"
"I fear you would be disappointed;" was his answer; "you would be surprised at its insignificance; and, as for improvement, there was too little for me to do: I should like to have been busy much longer."
"You are fond of that sort of thing?" said Julia.
"Excessively; but I had not been of age three months before Everingham was completed. My plan was laid at Westminster, a little altered at Cambridge, and at one-and-twenty executed. I envy Mr. Rushworth for having so much happiness yet before him. I have been a devourer of my own."
"Those who see quickly, will resolve quickly, and act quickly," said Julia. "You should assist Mr Rushworth with your opinion."
Mrs. Grant agreed warmly; and as Miss Bertram gave the idea her full support, Mr. Rushworth requested the favour of Mr. Crawford's assistance; and Mr. Crawford was quite at his service. Mr. Rushworth then began to propose Mr. Crawford's coming over to Sotherton, when Mrs. Norris interposed.
"Why should not more of us go? Why should not we make a little party? Here are many that would be interested in your improvements, my dear Mr. Rushworth; and, for my own part, I have long wished to wait upon your good mother again; I could sit with Mrs. Rushworth, while the rest of you walked about and settled things, and then we could dine at Sotherton, and have a pleasant drive home by moonlight. I dare say Mr. Crawford would take my two nieces and me in his barouche, and Edmund can go on horseback, you know, sister, and Fanny will stay at home with you."
Lady Bertram made no objection; and every one gave their concurrence, excepting Edmund, who said nothing.
CHAPTER 7