But—but—deceit was deceit, and falsehood was falsehood. This was, undoubtedly, the chief argument against agreeing to Mr. Crawford’s proposal. But there were others—she instinctively shrank from the idea with such true maidenly modesty as made her feel almost ill, and in addition, there was the sorrow of leaving her new friends in Bristol. In all probability she would never see Mr. Gibson again. She was truly fond of Caroline and Edward and flattered herself that her gentle affection helped to shelter them from all that was unpleasant and unhappy in the pronounced lack of harmony between their mother and father, which the advent of Henry Crawford had done nothing to improve.
But, on the other hand, if Fanny were to have the handsome allowance Mr. Crawford promised her, she would have an opportunity to assist her brothers and sisters. She did not doubt that she would see little of her sham husband—his motive in proposing this scheme was to secure his freedom—so he would be in London and Bath and all the fashionable watering places while she, the titular wife, stayed at Everingham in seclusion, away from the wondering eyes of the world.
The clocks were striking two in the morning as she dimly realized she was tempted to accept Henry Crawford’s offer—perhaps this is how the gamester feels when he is convinced that he will win back his lost fortune, she surmised. Perhaps everyone who stoops to some wrongdoing thinks they have very good reasons for doing it! She saw herself living in comfort and seclusion, able to save up more monies in a year than she could in a dozen years as a governess. She saw herself attaining some measure of independence, the independence she dreamt of. But then she contemplated herself looking Edmund in the face and telling him that she was Mrs. Crawford, and she was again wide-awake and pacing the floor in her dressing gown.
The sun appeared on the horizon and she thought she had faced the temptation and faced it down, and resigned herself to staying with the Smallridges, with only a tranquil conscience to console her, when another thought occurred to her—if she could, by this sacrifice, benefit Maria Bertram and her family, could she not benefit another, infinitely dearer to her heart?
Mr. Crawford had supposed that the offer of being mistress of Everingham, even if in name only, was enough inducement for Fanny to quit her post as governess. But, as he sought to benefit from this arrangement, could she not do likewise? Could she not benefit her own brother, William?
The household was beginning to stir when Fanny gasped at a new thought—could she meet the Crawfords in audacity, as regarded taking care of her own best interests and of those she loved? In a wild flight of bravado, she yielded—she resolved—she told herself, that the prize she would obtain, was worth whatever she might have to pay.
Henry Crawford returned, true to his time, and sought another private conference with Fanny. He noted that although her eyes were a little red, she was pale and composed.
“Well, madam, what have you to say to me this morning?”
“Mr. Crawford, among our acquaintance, who would know that we are not really husband and wife?”
“My sister only. You will be introduced to everyone else, my friends and my servants, as Mrs. Crawford, and I need hardly add, treated by me with all the respect due to you.”
Now came the time! Fanny steeled herself to look into his eyes, and mildly but firmly recited the short speech she had just been practising before the mirror. “I have a condition, Mr. Crawford. You have met my brother William. You are acquainted with his excellent qualities. He has no interest to help him further his career. Sir Thomas has been very kind to him, but my uncle has no influence at the Admiralty. Please introduce William to your uncle and ask him to use his influence to get William made lieutenant. If William sends me a satisfactory account of his meeting with your uncle, I will enter into this false marriage with you for so long as you require.”
She shivered, and blushed, then saw with gratification that Crawford was regarding her with surprise and, she thought, a degree of respect. It was as though he was looking at her for the first time.
“I say again, is this Miss Price? By heaven, I think running away from home has done a great deal for you. I agree to your terms. But, as soon as my errand is accomplished, you must be ready to leave Keynsham Hill. I cannot have my wife working as a governess. With your permission, my sister and I will take our leave and I will set about immediately to fulfill my part of the bargain. And, my dear Miss Price, please,” he added with a faint smile, “consider yourself an engaged woman and do not enter into any other entanglements in my absence. Also, it were best that you continue to communicate nothing to the Bertrams at this time. Rely on me for making the necessary communications.”
Fanny nodded her agreement and after taking her hand and examining the delicate little fingers as though to judge the size of wedding ring he must purchase, Crawford bowed and withdrew, leaving Fanny to exult in the hope that, while she was a monstrous sinner for lying to the world, she might be the means of helping a beloved brother to that long deserved, long delayed, promotion.
The stamina of youth, and the agitation produced by the recent turn of events, enabled Fanny to attend to her duties, despite her sleepless night, to a degree that surprised even herself. The possibility that she might soon be leaving Caroline and Edward inclined her heart to them even more tenderly. At last, after the children were put to bed, and despite her lack of sleep, Fanny wrapped herself
