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After Edmund left, Mary cried.
I was only trying to make the best of a bad situation, she reflected on her musings to Edmund. Henry was still her only brother, and also her best friend. She would not abandon him, despite his folly in running away with Mariah. She felt the need to unburden herself.
Dear Fanny,
The rumor I mentioned in my last letter turned out to be true. Henry and Mariah are fools – let them reap the whirlwind.
I’m so sorry for the hurt and pain this news will cause you. Despite what that dreadful Mrs. Norris is certain to say, what happened is through no fault of your own. You are entirely blameless and your conduct has been exemplary.
I pray that this unhappy event will not cause a breach between us, gentle Fanny. I most value your patient spirit and kind words. Thank you for your friendship.
Love,
Mary Crawford.
PS.
Edmund has rejected me. Now I am disappointed in love as well as in my family.
She reread the last sentence several times. Am I in love with Edmund? She asked herself. Or am I just like my brother, and want what I cannot have? She pondered. She got up and paced the room.
I am attracted to his quality and fixed purpose, but I have no desire to live in genteel poverty, which I let him know again and again.
I know not what to do, Mary wails.
But she found that the act of writing put a space between her and her problems, and the arrangement of words allowed her to order her mind.
She picked up another piece of paper.
Dear Uncle,
Whatever our past quarrels, I acknowledge that I owe you a debt of gratitude for taking myself and my brother in after the death of our parents.
You know full well that I loved my aunt most dearly, and the thought of being under the same roof as the usurper pains me. But I find myself in need of familial counsel.
Henry has temporarily taken leave of his senses and run away with a married woman, who it turns out was the sister of my intended, Edmund Bertram. He has since broken the connexion with me.
I know not what to do. Please advise me.
Affectionately, Your niece,
Mary Crawford
Thus these notes written and sent off by a servant, Mary decided to take a nap.
She awoke refreshed. Breakfasted a little. And then sat down to her harp, and played contentedly a piece that she knew by heart, remembering fondly how Edmund gazed at her as if enchanted as she played it for him.
Afterwards, she started working on a new composition, and the hours flew by.
A servant brought a reply from the Admiral, which she opened eagerly.
Impertinent little goose,
I read about our Henry in the society pages, and was most displeased. Rest assured that his dissipation will not harm you in making a suitable match, as any man who comes to know you will love you, but it will lessen the chances for you to move in those circles where an introduction will be made.
Upon further reflection, I am certain that you are not guiltless in this matter. You and your brother were always thick as thieves, and you would have not been ignorant of his flirtations with a married woman. Why did you allow him to continue in such a course?
My counsel is this: leave England. Men of quality are scarce because of the war; young ladies are plentiful. Travel to the southern colonies. Fortunes will be made in the Carolinas, as planters switch from tobacco to cotton. You will be able to have your pick of the young gentleman there, as you will be exotic and fresh. When the time comes, choose wisely and well, and run the decision by the memory of your beloved aunt.
I’ve invited a Captain Wentworth and his wife and the officers of the HMS Firefly over for dinner tomorrow evening. Upon amiable persuasion, they could take you, as I have it on good authority that they are carrying dispatches for the ambassador to the United States, before going to patrol the Indies. The HMS Firefly has a stateroom for transporting distinguished personages between the isles, and it may be that the Captain's new wife will travel with him. From all that I’ve heard of her, she is a gentlewoman of sound character, and you need better friends.
Your longsuffering uncle,
Admiral Crawford.
Mary read the letter several times in high dudgeon. Me to blame? Did I encourage his standing flirtation with Mariah? No - but I did not discourage it, she admitted to herself. But did I not do everything in my power to see him well married to my friend Fanny?
Perhaps she could convince Fanny to accompany her to the Carolinas, but first she needed to take the measure of this Captain, his wife, and the officers. She set about researching the ship.
***
When she entered the residence, Mary saw the Admiral surrounded by a group of naval men, listening to him tell a long winded story of some past triumph.
Uncle! She announces with delight, and rushes up to embrace him. Forgive me, she whispers in his ear. I am an impertinent little goose.
The men see the Admiral pat her on the back. I am glad we are reconciled, he whispers to her, and Mary kisses his cheek, before taking his offered elbow. She sees the complement of officers grinning at her, and returns in kind. Gentlemen, may I present my niece, Mary Crawford.
Mary, these are the officers of the HMS Firefly...
She interrupts. I have read of it. A fast frigate with two and thirty guns...
She abruptly stops talking at the shock of recognition - when she sees the footman bring in a Lt. with blond hair and blue eyes. He whispers to his captain, who nods gravely.
Lt. William Price! We shared a dance at Mansfield Park. It was at your sister Fanny’s coming out picnic. He grins widely. I do remember, Miss Crawford.
My wife sends her apologies, Admiral. She is unwell in the feminine way.
Say no more, Captain. I understand, the Admiral declaims. Now let us finish the introductions, before going to table.
Please sit next to me at dinner, Lt. Price. Mary begs William.
I would be honoured to do so. He bows, and offers to escort her to the dining room, and then seats her.
***
Where is the Firefly to be patrolling, Captain?
Our orders are to deliver a diplomatic pouch to Washington City, the capital of the Refractory Colonies, then proceed to the Indies and safeguard our merchant commerce.
Captain, perchance does your ship have a stateroom, if you needs were to carry the governor on official business between the isles?
It does, Miss Crawford.
Is it occupied for the voyage to the United Colonies?
It is not.
Mary looks at the Admiral.
Might I have your permission sir, to journey with them?
You have it, my dear Mary, if you can secure Captain Wentworth’s consent.
She looks over at him. Captain, I have been disappointed in love. It is my wish to sail to the Carolinas and there start anew, afresh. I am possessed of a modest fortune, and am able to pay for my passage, she adds.
Do you have connexions in the Carolinas, Miss Crawford?
I make friends easily, Captain Wentworth. He frowns. Mary smiles at him.
I shall be no trouble at all. I shall be like a wraith, you shall not even know that I am aboard. The officers smirk.
I highly doubt that, Miss Crawford, William says grinning at her. I have heard of your skill in playing the harp from my sister.
Will your wife be travelling with you, Captain?
You ask as if I have a choice in the matter, the Captain replies, and everyone laughs. Yes, she is resolved to accompany me and share any hardships.
Will it be her first time at sea? Yes.
Good, it will be mine too, Mary says beaming.
With all due respect, Admiral, I will not have a Jonah on my ship. I must needs ask several indelicate questions of your niece before I agree to take her on.
The HMS Firefly is your command. Ask away, Captain Wentworth, the Admiral replies.
Are you with child, Miss Crawford?
She blushes fiercely.
I am not, and my former intended and I have taken no liberties, she replies with her head down.
Captain, if I may, William intercedes. Mr. Edmund Bertram is my cousin. His character and quality is known to both me and to my dear sister, and there breathes not a finer gentleman in all of Hertfordshire. Indeed, he has recently taken orders as a clergyman, and will have an exceedingly comfortable income of 700 pounds per annum. Miss Crawford, I am doubly sorry for your loss.
Thank you, Lt. Price. You are as kind and as thoughtful as your dear sister, Fanny, whom I count my closest friend.
I still do not understand why you would want to leave England to take up residence in the slave states of the Carolinas, Miss Crawford. Captain Wentworth protests. Do you not agree that slavery is a great moral wrong?
His men nod assiduously at this observation.
Edmund broke the connexion with me when I would not disown my brother, who has behaved very badly. My uncle knows all, and it is on his advice that I sail to the Carolinas and start anew, afresh.
The Admiral nods his grave assent.
I have one more question, Miss Crawford, as I will not have a Jonah on my ship.
Are you running from God?
***
Now Captain Wentworth, I have questions for you, before I agree to set foot on your ship.
The Captain wipes his mouth with his napkin to cover his smile, and nods his assent.
What is your opinion of Captain Blithe?
Captain Blithe is a superb foul weather officer, he answers after some consideration, and his feat of seamanship can only be admired.
And yet he tormented and verbally abused his officers, and drove them to that act of ultimate desperation, Mary notes.
That is life on a ship of the line, Miss Crawford. It is a dictatorship, not a democracy. Standards must be upheld. Infractions will be punished. If you are to sail on my ship, you will see men flogged. Discipline will be strictly enforced and order maintained.
Reward is the best form of discipline, Captain Wentworth. Mary declaims.
No, Miss Crawford, it is not.
Forgive me, Miss Crawford, but does not the Good Book say spare the rod and spoil the child? William pipes up, coming to the defense of his captain.
Hear, hear, the other officers roar.
I did not say that reward is the only form of discipline, Captain Wentworth. But what would the Royal Navy be without promotions and prizes of war? (Silence)
You carry your point admirably, Miss Crawford. The Captain admits.
Pray tell, what is the application to the command of the HMS Bounty, Mary? The admiral asks.
Praise your people when they do something well, and you’ll get more of the same.
And when they err? An officer asks with raised eyebrows.
Criticize the behavior, not the person, Mary answers.
And how exactly does one do that? Captain Wentworth asks curiously.
I'm disappointed in you, Captain, and I expect better of you in the future. It was wrong to insinuate that an English gentlewoman might be a Jonah in front of your men, who will now ascribe any ill encountered on the voyage to her presence.
Everyone stares at Mary.
You have my sincere apologies, Miss Crawford. Your presence would be most welcome aboard the Firefly.
Thank you, Captain. When do we sail?