What if the Aylmer’s cottage had really bad landscaping? Henry finds a different passion.
Maria brought Henry to her bedroom at the Aylmer’s cottage and was playing suggestively with the ties on her gown, chosen specifically for its ease of removal.
Henry looked at her for a moment, and seemed about to smile, when his gaze was entirely captured by something disagreeable out the window. He frowned.
“What paltry prospect is this!” he declared, with a hand towards the glass, “Why, that humble building is entirely blocking my view of the pleasure grounds.”
“There is a more pleasing prospect you might gaze upon,” said Maria in earnest.
Not hearing her, Henry continued, “It must be moved, and a tree planted in its stead. Three trees, I daresay. A cottage cannot have enough shrubs.”
(This cottage, I will inform you dear readers, could have contained about six of the Dashwood’s cottages without much difficulty, but when one is rich, the greatest enjoyment in the world is pretending that one’s second (or indeed third) home is quaint.)
“I must speak to my friend Aylmer!” Henry cried and ran out of the room. Leaving Maria disappointed, glaring at the offending woodshed.
When Maria next found Henry he was in the dining room, drawing up some plans for improvement of the grounds.
“Mr. Crawford,” she said sternly, “this is meant to be a visit of pleasure not business.”
“What greater pleasure is there than being busy?” Henry replied, not raising his eyes from his work. “Now tell me what you think of this plan?”
Had Maria been in a humour to appreciate truly excellent landscaping, she would have been delighted, but she had no time for anything of that nature. She looked at it carelessly and said, “There is far more to appreciate in doors.”
Henry leapt from his chair, “You are entirely right, madam!” He instantly quitted the room. Maria followed him in great perplexity. He dashed from room to room, checking the prospect from each window and occasionally stopping to either admire or censure the furniture.
“Mr. Crawford!” Maria said uselessly. He was beyond her power to command. She went back to her room, cursed the woodshed, and gave up for the day.
Henry arrived early the next morning, at an hour too early for visiting, and was instantly at work. Mr. Alymer and his lady were convinced that their house and grounds were absolutely a horror and they were willing to commence the improvements with all haste. The woodshed was raised; several nurseries were toured; and some plants purchased from them. A book of plans was laid out on the table and constantly amended by Henry’s hand.
Maria was left in confusion and dirt, wasting her precious days watching Henry advise the labourers, make alterations to the plan, and spend long hours with Aylmer deciding on the best course of action. She could no more lure him to her room than she could fly. Rushworth was going to be back in a few days! If she was going to seduce Henry, it needed to be done quickly.
She decided the most romantic thing she could do would be to invite him to a picnic, which also had the advantage of being out of doors. Maria dressed with extreme care, she packed every food that he liked, and set out her blanket in what she judged was the most complete area of the lawn. Henry appeared and she called him over. He ran towards her with most encouraging speed.
“Mrs. Rushworth what have you done!” he cried, nearly throwing her aside and ripping the blanket from the ground. “The young delicate grasses cannot survive such cruel treatment! How could you do such a thing; what possessed you? I must insist that you ask my permission before doing something so rash again.”
Maria, mortified and disappointed, did not try to compose her face. She pouted and crossed her arms.
Henry looked at her for a few minutes, and then said, “If you are that desperate to sleep with me, I can come inside after I repair the damage here.”
Maria smiled and skipping, took her little basket back towards the house. She went to her bedroom, undressed, and sat looking out the window for Henry’s return. She was forced to admit that without the woodshed, her prospect was much better and she had a clear view of him on the lawn. He spent about a quarter of an hour inspecting the young plants that she had damaged, then a labourer approached him and he was off to another section of the grounds. Maria became worried after an hour passed, she began to get cold after another thirty minutes, and after two hours she was dressed and in the drawing room. She did not see Henry until dinner.
“Mr. Crawford,” she whispered, “did you forget our ‘appointment’?”
“Oh, yes, there is so much to do! And I am sorry, it is rather awkward-” he paused.
“What!” Maria demanded in extreme exasperation.
“The window in your bedroom needs to be replaced, to better appreciate the views. Unfortunately, there is no other room in the house that can receive you.”
Maria wanted to scream at him, but instead, with the greatest command of countenance, she commanded her maid to pack her room and departed without delay for London.
Henry stayed in Richmond for six months, improving every cottage he laid eyes on. He was soon established as a very accomplished landscape designer and he travelled the country plying his trade.
In the summer, Mary Crawford returned to Mansfield Parsonage, and since the affair had never occured, she married Edmund. As a wedding present, Henry carried out every possible improvement at Thornton Lacey and paid for it himself. Mary was annoyed, because it took three summers, but the place did look very well once he was done.
As her brother never renewed his interest in Fanny, Mary took her to the assemblies in Northampton and she married a respectable clergyman only fifteen miles from Mansfield Park. With Edmund and Susan nearby, William advancing in his career, and a loving husband, Fanny was perfectly happy.
Henry never married and lived so seldom at Everingham that when Edmund and Mary’s eldest son came of age, he was installed as the heir and resident of Henry’s estate. It was the finest, most beautiful estate in the whole of England. Young Edmund’s only fear was that he would not be able to maintain it properly. There was a living will several yards long detailing the maintenance of the various shrubberies and wildernesses.
Maria and Rushworth lived a long and miserable existence together. The chief of their complaints lay in their grounds at Southerton, which Henry refused to improve because Maria “Did not take such matters seriously.” And they were forever the laughingstock of the country.
For my Mansfield Park variation, here Unfairly Caught
For more short stories, go here
For my crossover romance, check out Prideful & Persuaded