“And what brings you to London, Mrs. Crawford?” said Mr. Meriwether once his wife temporarily exhausted her store of solicitude for Maria. “May I be of service to you in any matter of business? Do you have an agent in town?”
“Oh! You are kindness itself, Mr. Meriwether. Indeed, I am looking to set up my own residence. But I am sure my cousins will assist me, there. Still, should you know of any likely property—”
“How wonderful! Are you here for the season?” interjected Margaret. “You must dine with us! Say you will dine with us tomorrow!”
Maria was surprised—exceedingly surprised, by Margaret’s warmth and her hospitable overtures. Her first inclination was to draw back, to declare herself engaged, or plead some other excuse, but the fact was that Maria was very much unsure about her attempt to make a social entrée in London. She knew she would not be welcome everywhere—some degree of notoriety clung to her name, for she had married a man on his deathbed and given birth to his heir two months later. Therefore she decided to accept the invitation, and she parted cordially with them at Bedford Square. Her intention was to acknowledge the Meriwethers in future no more than the barest civility required. Their shared history was exceedingly awkward, but more than that, there was the objection that Mr. Meriwether’s wealth came from trade, and Margaret, while lively, cheerful, and obliging, was often tedious. These were indisputable faults, and the aversion arising from them was quite natural.
But the dinner party was elegant, the Meriwethers’ acquaintance were numerous and none could be objected to on the score of rank or breeding. After several dinners and outings in their company, Maria had to allow that the Meriwethers possessed qualities which, in justice, she must acknowledge. Margaret’s sunny temperament, her solicitude, her avowed admiration of Maria, never varied or failed. Mr. Meriwether was a man of sense and there was nothing to blush for in his manners.
In the following weeks, Maria found herself to be continually obliged to Margaret Meriwether for many flattering little attentions and useful introductions. The patronage, for so it must be called, of Mrs. Meriwether was of inestimable value in Maria’s efforts to establish herself in London society.
Maria had never lacked courage or resolution—she would have attempted to gain a foothold in London had she known nobody at all—but she could not deny that the Meriwethers smoothed her path. In addition, Mr. Meriwether insisted on helping her negotiate a five years’ lease for a town house. The dwelling was not so grand, nor so well situated as her taste and ambition might dictate, but was one which her income might support and which she need not be ashamed of. Thus she was able to take her leave of Bedford Square, and the chilly hospitality of her cousins, within a month of her arrival in London.
Margaret entered warmly into all the pleasure and bustle of helping Maria furnish and decorate her new abode and helped her find a good cook. Indeed Margaret’s absorbed interest in all of Maria’s doings was almost oppressive at times, but against this, Maria placed the consideration that she had no carriage, while Margaret owned an elegant vehicle which was always available to convey her friend Mrs. Crawford anywhere she might need or wish to go.
When the time came that Maria was ready to receive guests in her home, the Meriwethers were her first and most frequent visitors.
Maria next resolved to confront her most daunting challenge—to gain the favour of her late husband’s uncle, Admiral Crawford. The possibility of healing the breach between her family and the admiral was exceedingly remote, for the old man despised the entire tribe of Bertrams and blamed them collectively for his nephew’s death, yet Maria felt she must make the attempt for the sake of her son.
Her little son Henry had but two living relatives on his father’s side; Edmund’s wife, Mary, and Mary’s uncle Admiral Crawford. Maria and Mary had once been on friendly terms, but the tragic events around Henry’s death, and Maria’s resentment of Mary for her unkind treatment of Edmund, had created an estrangement. They maintained a very brief, very correct correspondence, remembering birthdays and holidays and trading compliments about Maria’s little Henry and Mary’s little Thomas, but there was no confidence or intimacy between the two.
Because of the probability of failure, Maria did not intend to confide her plans to any of her new acquaintance in town. She did not allow for the pertinacity of Margaret Meriwether, who was always asking how she did, where she went and where she might like to go. Such direct, frank and solicitous enquiries could hardly be ignored, not without sounding aloof. Once she understood, Margaret immediately put her carriage, and herself at Maria’s disposal. Such a daunting visit should not be conducted without a friend to support her, Margaret declared. “I do not know the Admiral, but I recall Mary Crawford—that is, Mary Crawford as was, for she is now your brother’s wife—I recall Mary Crawford speaking of the Admiral. I declare he must be a most frightening old gentleman! For Miss Crawford—Mrs. Bertram that is—she is not someone to be easily put down.”
“I know of the Admiral’s reputation, and for that reason, I would not dream of forcing his acquaintance upon you, Margaret,” Maria assured her, “We shall not attempt a visit. We shall only leave my card.”
“Oh! But depend upon it,” said Margaret stoutly, “I should go with you to pay the call, if you desire it.”
“I should not ask it of you, and Mr. Meriwether would not like it, either, for you see, the Admiral keeps a mistress.”
“In his very home? My gracious! Oh, indeed, we cannot—I would never—you would not. So, you will wait for him to call upon you?”
The plan was carried into action, the carriage
