Mansfield Park
quite as well how to save her own as to spend that of her friends.
Having married on a narrower income than she had been used to look
forward to, she had, from the first, fancied a very strict line of
economy necessary; and what was begun as a matter of prudence, soon
grew into a matter of choice, as an object of that needful solicitude
which there were no children to supply. Had there been a family to
provide for, Mrs. Norris might never have saved her money; but having
no care of that kind, there was nothing to impede her frugality, or
lessen the comfort of making a yearly addition to an income which they
had never lived up to. Under this infatuating principle, counteracted
by no real affection for her sister, it was impossible for her to aim
at more than the credit of projecting and arranging so expensive a
charity; though perhaps she might so little know herself as to walk
home to the Parsonage, after this conversation, in the happy belief of
being the most liberal-minded sister and aunt in the world.
When the subject was brought forward again, her views were more fully
explained; and, in reply to Lady Bertram’s calm inquiry of “Where shall
the child come to first, sister, to you or to us?” Sir Thomas heard
with some surprise that it would be totally out of Mrs. Norris’s power
to take any share in the personal charge of her. He had been
considering her as a particularly welcome addition at the Parsonage, as
a desirable companion to an aunt who had no children of her own; but he
found himself wholly mistaken. Mrs. Norris was sorry to say that the
little girl’s staying with them, at least as things then were, was
quite out of the question. Poor Mr. Norris’s indifferent state of
health made it an impossibility: he could no more bear the noise of a
child than he could fly; if, indeed, he should ever get well of his
gouty complaints, it would be a different matter: she should then be
glad to take her turn, and think nothing of the inconvenience; but just
now, poor Mr. Norris took up every moment of her time, and the very
mention of such a thing she was sure would distract him.
“Then she had better come to us,” said Lady Bertram, with the utmost
composure. After a short pause Sir Thomas added with dignity, “Yes, let
her home be in this house. We will endeavour to do our duty by her, and
she will, at least, have the advantage of companions of her own age,
and of a regular instructress.”
“Very true,” cried Mrs. Norris, “which are both very important
considerations; and it will be just the same to Miss Lee whether she
has three girls to teach, or only two—there can be no difference. I
only wish I could be more useful; but you see I do all in my power. I
am not one of those that spare their own trouble; and Nanny shall fetch
her, however it may put me to inconvenience to have my chief counsellor
away for three days. I suppose, sister, you will put the child in the
little white attic, near the old nurseries. It will be much the best
place for her, so near Miss Lee, and not far from the girls, and close
by the housemaids, who could either of them help to dress her, you
know, and take care of her clothes, for I suppose you would not think
it fair to expect Ellis to wait on her as well as the others. Indeed, I
do not see that you could possibly place her anywhere else.”
Lady Bertram made no opposition.
“I hope she will prove a well-disposed girl,” continued Mrs. Norris,
“and be sensible of her uncommon good fortune in having such friends.”
“Should her disposition be really bad,” said Sir Thomas, “we must not,
for our own children’s sake, continue her in the family; but there is
no reason to expect so great an evil. We shall probably see much to
wish altered in her, and must prepare ourselves for gross ignorance,
some meanness of opinions, and very distressing vulgarity of manner;
but these are not incurable faults; nor, I trust, can they be dangerous
for her associates. Had my daughters been _younger_ than herself, I
should have considered the introduction of such a companion as a matter
of very serious moment; but, as it is, I hope there can be nothing to
fear for _them_, and everything to hope for _her_, from the
association.”
“That is exactly what I think,” cried Mrs. Norris, “and what I was
saying to my husband this morning. It will be an education for the
child, said I, only being with her cousins; if Miss Lee taught her
nothing, she would learn to be good and clever from _them_.”
“I hope she will not tease my poor pug,” said Lady Bertram; “I have but
just got Julia to leave it alone.”
“There will be some difficulty in our way, Mrs. Norris,” observed Sir
Thomas, “as to the distinction proper to be made between the girls as
they grow up: how to preserve in the minds of my _daughters_ the
consciousness of what they are, without making them think too lowly of
their cousin; and how, without depressing her spirits too far, to make
her remember that she is not a _Miss Bertram_. I should wish to see
them very good friends, and would, on no account, authorise in my girls
the smallest degree of arrogance towards their relation; but still they
cannot be equals. Their rank, fortune, rights, and expectations will
always be different. It is a point of great delicacy, and you must
assist us in our endeavours to choose exactly the right line of
conduct.”
Mrs. Norris was quite at his service; and though she perfectly agreed
with him as to its being a most difficult thing, encouraged him to hope
that between them it would be easily managed.
It will be readily believed that Mrs. Norris did not write to her
sister in vain. Mrs. Price seemed rather surprised that a girl should
be fixed on, when she had so many fine boys, but accepted the offer
most thankfully, assuring them of her daughter’s being a very
well-disposed, good-humoured girl, and trusting they would never have
cause to throw her off. She spoke of her farther as somewhat delicate
and puny, but was sanguine in the hope of her being materially better
for change of air. Poor woman! she probably thought change of air might
agree with many of her children.
CHAPTER II
The little girl performed her long journey in safety; and at
Northampton was met by Mrs. Norris, who thus regaled in the credit of
being foremost to welcome her, and in the importance of leading her in
to the others, and recommending her to their kindness.
Fanny Price was at this time just ten years old, and though there might
not be much in her first appearance to captivate, there was, at least,
nothing to disgust her relations. She was small of her age, with no
glow of complexion, nor any other striking beauty; exceedingly timid
and shy, and shrinking from notice; but her air, though awkward, was
not vulgar, her voice was sweet, and when she spoke her countenance was
pretty. Sir Thomas and Lady Bertram received her very kindly; and Sir
Thomas, seeing how much she needed encouragement, tried to be all that
was conciliating: but he had to work against a most untoward gravity of
deportment; and Lady Bertram, without taking half so much trouble, or
speaking one word where he spoke ten, by the mere aid of a
good-humoured smile, became immediately the less awful character of the
two.
The young people were all at home, and sustained their share in the
introduction very well, with much good humour, and no embarrassment, at
least on the part of the sons, who, at seventeen and sixteen, and tall
of their age, had all the grandeur of men in the eyes of their little
cousin. The two girls were more at a loss from being younger and in
greater awe of their father, who addressed them on the occasion with
rather an injudicious particularity. But they were too much used to
company and praise to have anything like natural shyness; and their
confidence increasing from their cousin’s total want of it, they were
soon able to take a full survey of her face and her frock in easy
indifference.
They were a remarkably fine family, the sons very well-looking, the
daughters decidedly handsome, and all of them well-grown and forward of
their age, which produced as striking a difference between the cousins
in person, as education had given to their address; and no one would
have supposed the girls so nearly of an age as they really were. There
were in fact but two years between the youngest and Fanny. Julia
Bertram was only twelve, and Maria but a year older. The little visitor
meanwhile was as unhappy as possible. Afraid of everybody, ashamed of
herself, and longing for the home she had left, she knew not how to
look up, and could scarcely speak to be heard, or without crying. Mrs.
Norris had been talking to her the whole way from Northampton of her
wonderful good fortune, and the extraordinary degree of gratitude and
good behaviour which it ought to produce, and her consciousness of
misery was therefore increased by the idea of its being a wicked thing
for her not to be happy. The fatigue, too, of so long a journey, became
soon no trifling evil. In vain were the well-meant condescensions of
Sir Thomas, and all the officious prognostications of Mrs. Norris that
she would be a good girl; in vain did Lady Bertram smile and make her
sit on the sofa with herself and pug, and vain was even the sight of a
gooseberry tart towards giving her comfort; she could scarcely swallow
two mouthfuls before tears interrupted her, and sleep seeming to be her
likeliest friend, she was taken to finish her sorrows in bed.
“This is not a very promising beginning,” said Mrs. Norris, when Fanny
had left the room. “After all that I said to her as we came along, I
thought she would have behaved better; I told her how much might depend
upon her acquitting herself well at first. I wish there may not be a
little sulkiness of temper—her poor mother had a good deal; but we must
make allowances for such a child—and I do not know that her being sorry
to leave her home is really against her, for, with all its faults, it
_was_ her home, and she cannot as yet understand how much she has
changed for the better; but then there is moderation in all things.”
It required a longer time, however, than Mrs. Norris was inclined to
allow, to reconcile Fanny to the novelty of Mansfield Park, and the
separation from everybody she had been used to. Her feelings were very
acute, and too little understood to be properly attended to. Nobody
meant to be unkind, but nobody put themselves out of their way to
secure her comfort.
The holiday allowed to the Miss Bertrams the next day, on purpose to
afford leisure for getting acquainted with, and entertaining their
young cousin, produced little union. They could not but hold her cheap
on finding that she had but two sashes, and had never learned French;
and when they perceived her to be little struck with the duet they were
so good as to play, they could do no more than make her a generous
present of some of their least valued toys, and leave her to herself,
while they adjourned to whatever might be the favourite holiday sport
of the moment, making artificial flowers or wasting gold paper.
Fanny, whether near or from her cousins, whether in the schoolroom, the
drawing-room, or the shrubbery, was equally forlorn, finding something
to fear in every person and place. She was disheartened by Lady
Bertram’s silence, awed by Sir Thomas’s grave looks, and quite overcome
by Mrs. Norris’s admonitions. Her elder cousins mortified her by
reflections on her size, and abashed her by noticing her shyness: Miss
Lee wondered at her ignorance, and the maid-servants sneered at her
clothes; and when to these sorrows was added the idea of the brothers
and sisters among whom she had always been important as playfellow,
instructress, and nurse, the despondence that sunk her little heart was
severe.