Chapter Text
Thaddeus Rushworth left the study of Sir Thomas Bertram discombobulated. The engagement was off. It had been too hastily entered into, Mariah's father had explained. His daughter had come to feel that their temperaments were incompatible, and wished for an immediate separation rather than a drawn out estrangement.
Your carriage awaits, sir. I took the liberty of ordering it made ready and having it brought around.
The baronet gestured toward the door, indicating the interview was over.
Rushworth walked in a daze through the mansion, doors opening for him, seemingly of their own volition.
He entered his carriage and as soon as the door was closed, it took off, not even waiting for his instructions.
And that was when he realized that everyone knew – everyone was privy to his humiliation.
What had he done wrong?
Had Mariah not liked Sotherton? She had only to say the word, and he would have remade it for her.
No. It was not that.
It was the Crawfords.
She had broken their engagement at the instigation of her cold and heartless father. It would be ever so neat, the two families intertwined with the older sister marrying the brother, and the younger brother marrying the sister.
All had been fine and dandy before the Crawfords showed up at Mansfield Park.
Then the tour of Sotherton - the four of them went sneaking off, leaving him alone with Miss Price.
Then the play, where Mariah and Henry were cast as lovers. He should have objected, and claimed that part as his own.
What else should he have done differently?
He glances out the window and sees a woman riding side saddle, off in the distance, paralleling the carriage.
Could it be that Mariah had changed her mind?
Stop the coach. He yelled at his driver.
The footman got down and opened his door.
Rushworth exited the carriage and waved, his heart now full of hope.
The horsewoman changed course and made her way over to them at an easy canter.
As she rode closer, Rushworth noted that it was Fanny Price.
He liked Miss Price. She was quiet, and a good listener. And he needed someone to talk to right now. She was patient and kind and sensible. He admired that she had refused to act in that damn play. If only he had also said no, instead of getting carried away with the infectious enthusiasm of Tom Bertram and the costume changes and speeches to be memorized.
She slowed her horse to a walk and rode up to him.
He saw that she was smiling. He didn’t think he’d ever seen her smile before. It was a lovely smile. Genuine. Happy to see him.
Hello, Mr. Rushworth. Such a wonderful day!
I’m glad we met, Mrs. Price, as it will give me a chance to take my reluctant leave of you, as one who was always kind to me.
I don’t understand, Fanny says puzzled. Why are you saying goodbye?
Sir Thomas has broken my engagement with his eldest daughter - at her request.
Fanny looks down and shakes her head slowly.
Of course, it is her decision, and she is free to marry whom she will, and I must respect it, even though I wish I could understand what I have done wrong and seek to remedy the situation.
I’m so sorry, sir. Fanny tells him. I can only imagine what you are feeling right now.
It is very painful, Miss Price. To make it worse, I believe the whole house knew of it even before the event.
I have never been so humiliated in my life as when I walked out of that study and to my carriage.
I didn’t know. No one told me. Fanny says softly, with a compassionate look on her face as she gazes down at him.
As one who has been so constant and devoted, you deserve better, Mr. Rushworth.
What do I tell my mother when I get back to Sotherton? he asks plaintively, looking up at her like a lost boy.
Perhaps we could walk together for a spell, sir. Fanny answers. We will come up with a suitable explanation.
She frees her leg from the pommel and sits sideways on her horse. He lifts up his arms to catch her as she jumps down, but the hem of her dress catches and suddenly her bottom half is completely exposed, her dress above her head as he sets her down on the ground.
He immediately releases her and steps back to give her space to free her dress, which she tries to no avail.
Help me, she pleads.
What do you want me to do? He asks in stunned consternation, as he looks down and sees white silk stockings - and more.
Lift me up so I can free my dress. She whines frantically.
He grabs her bare waist only to feel her her body jump at his touch, and then he heaves her up mightily into the air, and for an instant finds himself staring directly at her hair pie, her milky white thighs, and what was between them.
Then her freed dress descends and he immediately sets her down, and kneels to extricate his hands from under the hem of her dress.
I have never been so embarrassed in my entire life, she admits with her head down, her face burning hot - too shocked to cry.
No one will speak of this, Miss Price. My men value their livelihoods too much, he says without so much as a glance over his shoulder.
However, the news of my broken engagement will soon be the talk of the town, as it will be announced in the papers. Speculation will then run rampant in all the parlors hither and yon.
Please - might we still walk together, Miss Price?
Perhaps you would be so kind as to give me your thoughts on what to do, and how best to break the news to my mother.
Fanny takes several deep breaths as she regathers her composure. Then wordlessly takes his arm and they walk down the lane together – heading away from Mansfield Park.
I did not thank you for coming to my aid. Allow me to do so now, Mr. Rushworth.
Please, Miss Price, do not mention it, he rejoins, his face now blushing at the remembrance of what he had seen.
They walk further along in silence, the coach and her horse trailing along at a respectful distance.
What is the opposite of love, Mr. Rushworth? She eventually asks.
Hate, he answers bitterly. I cannot bring myself to hate Mariah, but I do hate Crawford for stealing her away from me. Even before that play, he had been scheming his way into her heart. How I hate him!
I love Edmund, Fanny interrupts.
Rushworth looks over at her - startled by this admission.
I hate Edmund too, she allows sadly. I fear that love and hate are two sides of the same coin. I love him far far more than I hate him, but there are moments…
What moments, Miss Price?
I hate him for not seeing through Miss Crawford and her designs to take him away from his true calling, she seethes. I hate him for not standing up for me when the others abuse me. I hate him for not seeing that I love him so much.
And I'm afraid, Mr. Rushworth. I’m afraid that my love will soon be without hope, and then there will be only hate on both sides of that coin.
<silence>
There are things I hate about Mariah that I’ve never spoken aloud, Rushworth eventually admits.
<long pause>
And I never will. But I expect that I will also carry around that two sided coin until I hear that she has married Crawford. Then I will chuck it like a skipping stone across the Thames, and become indifferent.
Become indifferent? Fanny asks skeptically. Do you really think that is possible?
It follows, does it not, that indifference must be love’s opposite, he muses. So that is what I shall strive for. You have helped me immensely, Miss Price!
Thank you for listening to me, sir. It is so good to have someone so stalwart to confide in, Fanny replies.
And speaking of skipping coins, my brother told me a story about General Washington, how he was able to skip a silver dollar across the Potomac River.
I do believe that you would be capable of the same, sir – you lifted me up like I weighed nothing.
Rushworth grins at this compliment, but then blushes once more at the intimate recollection.
What does your brother do for a living? He hastily inquires.
William is a midshipman on the HMS Firefly, a fast frigate with two and thirty guns.
She winces suddenly.
What?
I just thought of your stately avenue of oaks at Sotherton being turned into ships planks and timbers.
Please don’t have them cut down, sir. She pleads. Leave them for future generations to enjoy, I beg of you.
If the thought gives you pain, Miss Price, then they shall not be cut down - unless there be a national emergency that necessitates their use. Rushworth hedges.
Fanny smiles at him.