And Edmund could not answer, for he was quietly weeping as well, and clutching the child to his chest.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Lady Delingpole declared herself unsurprised that in the end Mary Crawford Bertram gained everything she wanted. Edmund Bertram could not preserve his son’s respectability without also saving the mother.
In the space of a fortnight, Sir Thomas Bertram and his lady received letters informing them of the death of their brother-in-law, the removal of their niece Fanny to Portsmouth, the exchange of one bridegroom for another by Julia, the reconciliation of their son Edmund with his wife, and the acquisition of another grandson!
Mary Bertram sent them a long, dutiful, and affectionate letter, with a miniature portrait of young Thomas, which attested to his complete resemblance to his father. Nothing of course could repair Sir Thomas’s opinion of his daughter-in-law, but the revelation of an heir presumptive, when it had otherwise appeared that the baronetcy must pass to their cousins in Bedford Square, kept him from expressing himself so often and so volubly as he might have done.
Julia Bertram Price and her husband, Commander Price, plying the waters between Ireland and England together aboard the Protector, were as happy and in love as it is humanly possible to be, and in fact regarded themselves as the happiest couple in the world.
Julia, it must be confessed, struggled a little with wounded vanity when she learned Mr. Meriwether’s affection for her was not unconquerable. Not four months after she dashed his hopes, he led Margaret Fraser to the altar! The new Mrs. Meriwether, valued for herself, indulged and petted, was a very happy woman, and what is more, she made her husband very happy also. His contentment was increased by knowing he gave his bride a more loving home than the one he took her from.
John Price kept up with his wrestling lessons and continued in his ambition to be a judicial clerk one day, an aspiration which Mr. Harriott did not discourage.
Mrs. Laetitia Blodgett penned a short and despairing note to her niece Honoria: You cannot imagine the difficulties into which I am plunged! After dismissing Miss Price, I thought we should do very well with Mrs. Bellingham—but you know what happened there. Then we engaged a new instructress, an older woman, and paid her much more than ever we had paid Miss Price, but I had to turn her off for drinking! The students are grown absolutely wild, and Mr. Edifice and I can hardly keep them in order for five minutes altogether...
Edmund Bertram’s departure from Thornton Lacey was the means of providing a living for his good friend and old school-fellow Richard Owen, the struggling curate. Mr. Owen was thereby able to provide a home to his widowed mother and unmarried sisters.
Mary Bertram regretted her husband’s over-generosity in the matter of Mr. Owen’s salary. She thought one hundred pounds a year would be more than ample, and Edmund offered more than twice that amount! And the house as well! But she magnanimously kept her thoughts to herself.
Through the interest of Lady Delingpole, Edmund Bertram started a new life in Ireland as headmaster of a boys’ school. Despite owing his position to the patronage of the Delingpoles, Edmund Bertram soon established himself as a well-respected headmaster. He also enjoyed the wider circle of acquaintance and the variety of diversions which life in Belfast afforded him, which put him in danger of having to agree with his wife; his talents, personableness, and industry, in fact fitted him for a wider sphere than a country parsonage.
Mary Bertram revelled in the society and elegancies of her new home—she was a more prominent figure on the smaller stage of Belfast, than she had been in London.
Their little boy Thomas, a remarkably fine-looking and clever child, was the delight of them both. Mansfield Park remained, for the time being, the preserve of Lord Delingpole and his horses and hounds but Mary always felt a thrill of pride and anticipation when she thought of the day when little Thomas would take his place as Sir Thomas Bertram. In the meantime, a thickening of her figure betrayed the impending arrival of a little brother or sister, which also interfered with her ability to reach the furthest strings on her harp.
Aunt Norris left Portsmouth and returned to Mansfield, not comprehending that her disapproval of William Gibson did more to incline her niece to marry the writer, than her endorsement could ever have done.
Fanny trusted in her own estimation of Mr. Gibson. She prized his integrity, his adherence to principle, his disdain for hypocrisy and cant, and his genius as a writer. Most especially, she loved and admired the warmth, frankness and generosity of his character—even if he tended to impetuosity at times. His boldness would strengthen her timidity; her caution might add reflection, where it was truly warranted, to his impulses.
Fanny could not offer Mr. Gibson the innocent purity of a first love, of a newly-awakened heart. Other people, she knew, loved a second time. But Edmund was tied to her by an invisible cord of feeling, a cord never to be severed.
Hers was an affectionate heart, needing only an object to love—as Mrs. Gibson, she would have someone to whom she could devote herself—someone who in turn, esteemed and truly delighted in her company. After a childhood of feeling herself to be an encumbrance—unwanted—either at Mansfield or Portsmouth, this was a promise of felicity beyond her expectations.
Between her private daydreams about travelling on an extended honeymoon, and her reflections on a future world where
