#FreeFanny

Edmund Bertram had certainly never thought that he would see Miss Crawford, or her brother, ever again. Indeed, if they had not met by chance it is certain that everything would have turned out quite differently. The circles that they moved in, especially upon his taking of orders and residence in the Thornton Lacey parsonage, were so distinct and removed from the notice of the other as to never imagine that the two families would, by pure chance, come to meet. Had Edmund not gone into town with his brother, who begged the excuse of business for a chance to once again see his dear friends, Edmund might never have laid eyes upon that woman. The friends of Tom were near enough to the circle of the Crawfords that at a particularly large ball, which Tom determined that they must attend, Edmund suddenly found himself, during a ramble in the garden, before that person who had once been his dearest object.

It had only been a single year since the events that had caused his absolute separation from Miss Crawford and her affections and when he saw her, there was such a return of regard that he could not help to approach her. She received him in her usual manner, which he had in not expected. He had thought she would be cold. She was as womanly, spirited, and beautiful as she had ever been to him. While she must have known, she was bold enough to ask after the health of the very brother she had once hoped for the passing of, and Edmund stumbled through his replies.

“How does your brother?” asked he, though the question had to have been wrong, given the state of his lost sister.

“He is very much the same, he is here,” Mary said, with some small sadness perhaps, “Though he makes his home at Everingham now. I must think that he still mourns the loss of Miss Price.”

That Henry still thought of Fanny was a thing of interest to Edmund, for he still thought of Miss Crawford. The two of them walked in the shrubbery, which was not yet dark on a long day in late spring, and spoke of everything except what was most on each of their minds, on the calamity which had long separated them. Edmund did not wish to dwell on it longer and Mary, knowing that it could not be a fond remembrance on either side, held her tongue.

It was discovered, in the course of this conversation, that Mary was in fact staying at the very house where the ball was held. She usually stayed with her sister in town, now that they had moved, but the host was a particular friend, and Mary was spending a few weeks with her. Mary was quick to regret that she had not brought with her the harp that Edmund had always loved. He was quick to join her in regret, when she revealed that the owners did have a fine instrument, if he would like to hear her play.

He would. And then made their way inside, though not to the loud rooms that held the ongoing party, for the instrument was not there, but to a small parlor where Mary could sit by a window, in the fading sunlight, and play for him. The song brought remembrances that he had tried to forget and for her, feelings that had never quite been resolved. What happened following might be imagined, when they left the small parlor and found their way into another unoccupied area of the house. 

It was that day that Mary learned that her picture of a man of character, a man whom she had always imagined to be completely unlike her brother or uncle, was indeed of the same base materials. Edmund, from that day forward, was sufficiently out of her head. With new determination, she set out to find some idle heir apparent, who, if without principles, must be no different than any other man. What had softened her jaded heart was no more and she faced the world again much as she had, with matrimoney merely an object, and no high minded ideals of what the man ought to be.

For Edmund the feelings were different, for while he did entirely cease to care for Miss Crawford, for what she had allowed to occur, despite his own participation, he felt for some time nearly overwhelming guilt at his actions. The next two days he begged off engagements with his brother and dwelt deeply on the breach of morals. He was mortified, ashamed, and sorry. He had no right to seek council or friend, and in time, when he returned to his duties at the parish; he felt that nothing could be done. He would not seek any further acquaintance or possibly, if it was even required, forgiveness, he would carry on as if nothing had happened.

Four months later, Edmund received a not unexpected letter and a hasty marriage was announced. Mary Crawford, her 20,000 pounds, and her coming child were all moved to Thornton Lacey. Sir Thomas felt all the mortification of circumstance and would have cut Edmund off if he had the heart to lose another child. Fanny mourned for Edmund’s loss and fall from grace, but in time she would recover. In time she would begin to search for a man with the upright principles and kind heart that she had thought Edmund to be in possession of….

For more short stories, go here

For my crossover romance, check out Prideful & Persuaded

For my Mansfield Park variation, here Unfairly Caught