Chapter Two

It is not to be supposed that Nature gives its mortals so much leisure to indulge in meditations of their happiness (or lack thereof) as is implied; indeed, it would be a sad hindrance to the smooth working of the world as we know it, if Memory were not allowed to be weakened by newer pursuits and ideas, and men and women alike, permitted to exist in a state of unchanging perspective.

Edmund was, likewise, assisted in his resolution to dwell less on reminiscences of Mary Crawford by his duties towards his parishioners and his family; and being forced to exert himself to appear even marginally cheerful in their presence, it is to be expected that his spirits would be improved somewhat, even in their absence. He could not be supposed to have left off all thoughts on the subject, and his conversations with Fanny still held the thoughtful tenor of philosophising about past events, but it is believed that there was a general decrease in the despondent nature of his speech.

Fanny, her own spirits in the state of satisfaction brought about by the knowledge of being needed and useful to all those who were important to her, by the very contentment of being returned to Mansfield Park, did much to increase his comfort. Listening to him with sympathetic concern, her thoughts so alike his in every aspect – was it any wonder that he should feel consoled, partially, from the very knowledge that another existed whose temperament was so like his? He would brood over his differences of opinion with Mary, but while Fanny was present, those considerations seemed gradually to lead to the contemplation of her own excellent character - that steadiness of principle, which had not wavered despite the coercion of all those around her (in the case of that fateful play) , that unfailing judgement, which had not blinded her to the faults in Henry Crawford's character, despite such marked attentions as he had shown her, and which may have swayed a more experienced woman than a mere girl of eighteen – naïve and guileless – that Fanny had been! Edmund's affection and respect for her increased with this observation, as is natural in such a case; when one has been so highly mistaken in discerning the truth, another's success at the same endeavour is calculated to inspire admiration, unless pre-biased by feelings of envy and resentment.

He had plenty of occasions for reflections of this sort; the narration of a certain Thursday's activities would probably convince the reader of the same. They were seated in the parlour; Edmund had his newspaper, Susan was winding up a few balls of thread for Lady Bertram, and Fanny was reading aloud to her. Lady Bertram was in low spirits; her sister Norris being gone a week now, to join her estranged niece in her isolation, and Fanny had chosen Chaucer, with an intention to cheer her spirits with droll poetry. The words of Sir Thopas' tale were uttered quietly enough in her voice, perhaps to avoid disrupting his concentration, but Edmund was so less interested in the political news and advertisements offered, that his attention was more often on her calm tones than not. She may not have been as skilled as Henry Crawford in the performance, but the emphasis on the exaggerations of the piece was well maintained, and Edmund looked up at a quiver of laughter in her voice, as she related the absurd description of that knight. Her eyes met his in shared amusement, and though her countenance may not have been equal to that of Mary Crawford's in expressing the emotion of archness, the merriment in her eyes seemed to strike Edmund as equally, or probably, more pleasurable; aware as he was, that her entertainment had no foundation in another's ridicule.

As the poets have shown us, it is more probable for a young man, or woman, to lose their hearts on laying eyes on a member of the opposite gender for the first time, than to be smitten with one whom they have known all their life; the reader will recall that this was, indeed, the intention behind Fanny's being brought up alongside the Bertram children from a young age, by the ingenuity of Sir Thomas and Mrs Norris. Fanny had proved them false, however, with her partiality for her cousin, but it is assumed that Edmund, having succumbed once to that emotion by the novelty of acquaintance, was possibly delayed in understanding his own changing feelings for Fanny, by the constraints of that principle.


A/N: Does it seem like Edmund is a tad bit, um, less self-possessed in this story? It's intentional - I believe every good hero in love to be a little less confident, a little nervous, when compared to his normal self. ;)

What'd you think of this chapter?

Thanks to Lucky4Sam and Vee22 for reviewing! :)