She gasped, for it was the first time he had called her by her Christian name.
“Mary, tell me truthfully, have you lied to me?” Words failed him, and he looked at her in anguish.
Mary hesitated. Should she show resentment at the question, or should she appear wounded? She decided on a show of anger at first. It was a point of pride with her that she did not resort to tears as often as did most other women, and she felt it to be good policy also, as to cry too frequently inevitably led to disgust and weariness, at least so far as she had observed with her friends and their lovers and husbands.
“Mr. Bertram—you are insinuating something so improper—so indecorous—that I can hardly comprehend—words cannot express….” Mary clasped her hands together and walked about the room, feeling his eyes follow her. “I say again, there must be some explanation. Pray, let us wait for an explanation from Maria before making vile accusations. I had not thought you capable of it.”
“Miss Crawford,” he said gently. “Did you, or did you not, go to a concert last Tuesday afternoon with my sister and Mrs. Fraser? Was she not to have been your chaperone?”
“I? I—who can recall?” She laughed lightly. “When I am not in your company, I hardly care where I am or who I am with.”
“I believed you did,” he continued, in the same gentle but remorseless tone, “because, as you may recall, you told me of the concert before I went away, and that you and Maria were to attend.”
“Ah yes! Yes, I do recall now,” Miss Crawford’s reply was rapid. “Now I understand you. Due to the crush of people, we were compelled to sit apart, I a few rows ahead of Maria, so I could not observe her. I looked for her during the interval, but did not find her. We were reunited after the concert.”
“But did you not also say that Mrs. Fraser attended with you?”
“I don’t recall.” Was it time to weep yet? Mary asked herself. No, wait a moment.
“Not recall? I asked you if Mrs. Fraser enjoyed the concert not two minutes ago.”
Mary was silenced for a moment, trying to remember exactly what she had said. She thought she had only said ‘we’, and had not mentioned Mrs. Fraser by name in her reply, but was she certain? Not waiting for her reply, Edmund pressed his point:
“Mary, are you in league with your brother to arrange secret assignations with my sister? Have you conspired to help your brother seduce her? Can your morals possibly be so corrupted?” Edmund looked at her as though he might well cry himself.
Now was the time! Tears welled up in her dark eyes, one perfect tear slowly traced down one cheek. To her relief, she saw Edmund visibly waver.
“That you could even begin to suspect me—that you could give voice to such foul insinuations—oh, Edmund, my heart is broken.”
But what to say next?
“Yes” —the chin wobbled, the voice wavered— “I did withhold some information from you—but it was not my brother, it was Maria—Maria who asked me to say that I was at a concert with her. Out of friendship and love for her, I did not question where she went! I should never in a thousand years have suspected that Maria would behave so foolishly! If I had, I do assure you...but must we assume the worst? Perhaps they enjoyed being together, simply talking together, without the constant chaperonage of Mrs. Norris—pardon me, but to be alone with the one you love, is delightful above all things, to confide in him who holds your heart—”
He looked at her, aghast. “Now I know that you can look me in the face, Miss Crawford, and tell me falsehoods. It is impossible for me to unlearn this knowledge.” He looked as though he wanted to say more, a great deal more, but he turned, and slowly made his way to the door.
Both resentment and tears had failed her. I will stake my last like a woman of spirit, she thought. No cold prudence for me. I am not born to sit still and do nothing. If I lose the game, it shall not be from not striving for it.
“Edmund,” she pleaded, running after him and placing her hand confidingly in his. “Edmund, I must tell you something, I must breach the bounds of decorum and speak to you from my heart. If you asked me—if you had asked me to meet you in secret, I would deceive Mrs. Fraser, my friends, my brother, anyone, to be with you. I could not resist you. There. I have told you the truth. I love you. I love you. Will you judge me, and Maria, so very harshly, or will you understand that we are young and in love and we cannot help ourselves? Are you so cold?”
She stood on her tiptoes, placing her hands on his chest, imploring. He closed his eyes in pain, and gently but firmly grabbed both of her upper arms, and she feared he was going to set her aside and walk out the door. She brushed her lips against his cheek, trailing to his ear. “And they are engaged to be married, Edmund—oh, Edmund, ‘tis better to marry than to burn,’” she murmured. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him closer—she felt his entire body stiffen for an instant, then—thank heavens! —he yielded. His eyes were full of pain as he stroked her face with one finger, then traced the swell of her lower
