London Belle By Nadine Sutton, Part II

The two sisters had also had their differences over the Henry affaire…  Catherine Grant had forgiven her half-brother at first, because she believed he was in love with Mrs Rushworth.  Had he wed Maria, after the divorce, she could have tolerated it.  She would still have felt that her half-brother had behaved badly and that Mrs Rushworth had behaved scandalously, but she would have tried to excuse it and tolerate his wife at least in private.  However as a clergyman’s wife she could never have wholly excused a remarriage.

However, when Henry and Maria had not married, she and Dr Grant had been very shocked and had utterly refused to meet him. In the end, the lovers had parted and Maria had returned to her father’s care. Sir Thomas had received her, but he would not try to rehabilitate her socially or let her live permanently at Mansfield.

Now, the young Mrs Rushworth was divorced, living sadly in a country village, miles from anywhere. She naturally had no place in society. All she had was her aunt, Mrs Norris who had gone with her as her companion. As the scandal unfolded, Catherine had said firmly that it was improper for Mary, as a young unmarried woman, to spend time with her brother, who had behaved so shockingly. 

The ladies went to the Richmond ball at a reasonable hour.. but it was much like others, in spite of the grandeur of the occasion.  Mary did not enjoy it as much as she had hoped.  Catherine did not seem to make any effort.  She simply stood or sat, looking sad and  tired.  Mary herself did not have as many partners as usual. 

Emily came to talk to her and told her about some young captain she had fallen in love with, and Mary tried to seem interested.  They did not stay as long as usual and were at home and in bed by 3 o’clock…

The following morning, in spite of her late night, Mary went out riding early.  She returned to the house for breakfast.  Her sister had not left her room, but had written a note to remind her younger sister that she would not be in for dinner. 

Mary sat down to breakfast alone. She wondered again why it seemed so important to Catherine to go and dine with Mrs Brinsley, her friend’s mother.   She herself had no invitation for the evening, and would have to dine alone.  The only engagement she had was to walk in the Park later with her friend Sophie. 

Miss Sophia Lawrence was still unwed… She was also the daughter of a family whose country estate was only a few miles away from Mansfield Park.  She and Mary had become friends a few years ago, when she had gone to live with Dr and Mrs Grant.  Sophie had been amongst the Bertrams’ social circle.  Mary had never found the Bertrams’ set of country friend very interesting.  However, Sophie had been an exception.  She was light-hearted and an amusing talker.  She enjoyed private theatricals, which was one of Mary’s favourite divertissements. Naturally, she was more sophisticated than an innocent chit like Emily - it was more fun to talk to her.

Mary found it hard to settle to any occupation that morning.  She tried to read, or sew, but nothing entertained her for long.  She was glad when Miss Lawrence arrived with her maid.  They set off for the Park together.  As they walked, she told her friend of Catherine’s odd behavior.

“It is very strange, Mary dear. Perhaps it is her age?  She is not so young and she may feel that she is rather old for social events such as balls that go on till the morning.”

“I can’t understand her wanting to visit old Mrs Brinsley.”

“No indeed.  But I must tell you, my dear, that I have news from home.  My aunt Dorothy has written from Garfield House…”

Mary bit back an impatient noise…

 “Mrs Edmund Bertram, that Missish creature that was Fanny Price...”

Mary stiffened and her hands gripped hard on the strings of her reticule.  Oh no, it wasn’t that she still had tender feelings for Edmund. All that had passed. Yet still, it was hard to hear the name of the shy country mouse who had supplanted her...

“Aunt Dorothy wrote me, that last week, Miss Fanny – or as she is now Mrs Edmund Bertram, has been brought to bed of a boy…”

Mary felt a pang.  It wasn’t that Edmund had a son, by another woman.  It was the sadness of knowing herself to be still unwed…

She forced a smile.

“Why, that is good news.  Edmund will have a little clergyman to bring up. I am sure that he will want all his sons to enter the church.”
Sophie giggled.  She had never cared for the serious minded younger son of Sir Thomas Bertram.  She went on with a smile, “Yes and I should say that the Reverend Edmund will be a bishop one day, indeed.”

Mary gave an answering grin. 

“Still it is good to hear that he and his little wife are happy. They must be, with a fine young son and having moved to the Mansfield Rectory when Dr Grant died.  The living at Thornton Lacy was not a rich one.  He now has a decent income, and he and Fanny will be close to Sir Thomas and Lady Bertram.  They will like that.”

Sophie patted her friend’s hand.  “I cannot imagine how he chose Fanny Price over you, Mary.”

“Oh I was not meant to be a parson’s wife, Sophie.”

Sophie laughed a little. “Perhaps not. I could not see you reading to the cottagers and doling out soup to the old women. Or making baby clothes for the poor…“

“No indeed.  And Edmund would expect me to dress in sober colours.  Grey or black gowns.   I would have to read my Bible every day.   No, I could not bear such a life, never going to London, never seeing anyone fashionable again.  But – he is a good man.”

Mary’s voice softened. She had become disillusioned with Edmund - still, his goodness had once attracted her.  She had found him prudish and tiresome.  She had been angered by his disapproval, by his acting as if she were an immoral woman.  They had parted unhappily, with his being shocked and horrified by her.

She had also been hurt when she had heard, about six months later, that he was now getting married. All the same, they had cared for each other, once, and she still felt a little regret about him.

Sophie laughed.  “I don’t know why you ever liked him, Mary.  I’ve always thought him a bore and a prig.  I remember how he looked with disapproval at me when I was imitating one of the gardeners.  He loves these yokels and did not care for my mocking them -as he puts it.   But Carson had a thick strong accent, and what harm was there in my making a little fun of it?”

Mary told herself that for the sake of her own self-respect, she must not show a sad face, though she had been pained by knowing that he had found consolation so soon after they had parted.

Sophie asked “Do you regret not marrying him?”
“Oh, dear, no, it could not be, when Henry eloped with that foolish Maria. Sophie, you know it was impossible then for me to marry her brother, when she was living as my brother’s mistress.”

“I suppose not…”