Fanny was invited to the table with the Bragges, and was secretly amused to note how perfectly their names accorded with their natures, for the Bragges were inclined to speak only of their own affairs. Whatever new topic was introduced, it was sure to be quickly turned back into an anecdote concerning themselves, with both husband and wife vying to be the foremost speaker, and sometimes both speaking together, he to his end of the table and she to hers. Having only to listen and observe, Fanny also came to see that Mrs. Smallridge was almost silent in their company, and not merely because the only way to join a conversation with the Bragges was to interrupt them emphatically, but because Mrs. Smallridge’s sullen countenance hinted that she interpreted the praise the Bragges bestowed on themselves as condescension toward their hostess.
Fanny was astonished when she understood that her mistress was anxious and self-conscious when in company. That anyone but herself, let alone a handsome, well-married woman of eight-and-twenty, could feel unease among others, was a revelation. With the self-centredness of youth, Fanny had thought only she felt awkward when called upon to converse with people of fashion. Unlike Fanny, however, whose timidity took the form of self-abasement, Mrs. Smallridge assumed a false air of hauteur when in company, which had at first deceived her governess into thinking her chilly and proud.
Upon further reflection, Fanny concluded that the source of Mrs. Smallridge’s unease arose from the fact that she was the daughter of a tradesman, and in marrying Mr. Smallridge she felt herself to be at a disadvantage in education and manners.
This better understanding inclined Fanny’s heart sympathetically toward her mistress, and while she took no liberties, she was better able to bear with and understand Mrs. Smallridge’s habitual reserve.
One evening, only a few days after their trip to Bristol, Mrs. Butters entered the nursery where Fanny was sitting and stitching on her new grey dress. “Here is a little something for you, Miss Price, from my friend Mr. Gibson. He has collected some of his poetry and his writings on the slave trade and asked me to submit them to you for your comment.” Fanny, blushing, began to anxiously disclaim all abilities as a critic, at the same time reaching eagerly for the proffered parcel.
“Of course you are no literary expert, Miss Price, and I am tolerably certain that Mr. William Gibson, a man who has been to Cambridge and who can speak Latin and Greek, does not wait anxiously upon the judgements of an eighteen-year-old girl. When a man asks you to comment on his writing, you can be pretty sure he means, that your admiration would not come amiss. He doesn’t want you to write up a review for the London Gazette.”
Fanny began to apologize for being so apologetic, then checked herself as Mrs. Butters laughed and left the room. She felt chastened indeed but perceived that Mrs. Butters’ intentions were kindly meant, as always. Fanny meditated on whether she tended to be excessive in her self-abasement, and whether her frequent disclaimers and professions of humility were always necessary. She had enough self-knowledge to understand she had acquired the habit because of the disapproving scrutiny of her Aunt Norris, who so frequently accused her of trying to put herself forward, who reminded her that “wherever she was, she must be the lowest and the last.” From the time of her arrival at Mansfield Park at the age of ten, she had imbibed the notion that she was only residing there on sufferance, and if she displeased anyone, she would be sent packing back to Portsmouth in disgrace. Given her sensitive nature, it was not to be wondered at that she had lived in perpetual fear of causing offence. But among new acquaintance, perhaps she appeared as someone who exaggerated her own humility, and therefore was set down as one who, far from being truly humble, was actually full of self-consequence! Being among a new set of people enabled her to perceive herself through different eyes.
She thought again—how was it that she thought? —of Mr. Gibson’s twinkling dark blue eyes, alight with intelligence and humour, and wondered if she would meet him again soon. Propriety forbid their establishing a direct correspondence with one another. But she felt, very sensibly, all the compliment of his sending her a package of his writings, and his promptness in so doing told her that she had remained in his thoughts after their brief meeting. When she read his poems and articles carefully, she imagined hearing them read aloud to her, and she could with pleasure recollect the sound of his voice.
Her budding friendship with Mr. Gibson could only be named as friendship, as her heart was, and would always be, entirely Edmund’s. Nevertheless, it was pleasant to form such a friendship and very gratifying indeed that he thought well enough of her, to desire her acquaintance!
* * * * * *
The family at Mansfield Park at last received Fanny’s letter from Bristol. All of the apologies and protestations contained therein, however, did her no service in the eyes of Mrs. Norris, who condemned her for ingratitude and want of respect in terms so severe that even Lady Bertram was moved to remonstrate with her sister—as Fanny was always
