9 April, 1831

Mansfield Parsonage

Dear Jamie,

It is the day after the ball, and I am in my chamber with strict instructions to rest. Mama is always greatly fatigued after a ball, and she does not want my health to be impaired. However, I am not the least bit sleepy, and writing to you is more restful than attempting to sleep when I would much rather be outside enjoying the fresh air, or talking last night over with Lucy.

Besides, I have so very much to tell you! This will be a long, detailed letter, so brace yourself, Jamie.

Everyone from Mansfield Park and Parsonage, except Aunt M, of course, attended the ball, and Sir Thomas even included Lucy and Mr. Fulke as part of the family party, insisting on conveying them with us in his carriages. I will spare you the details of our dress, merely stating that I was in my silver-green silk, Mama in dove grey, Aunt B in powder blue, and Lucy looking perfectly beautiful in a rose-coloured satin. Oh! Miss C wore crimson, shockingly inappropriate for a woman of her age.

Richard gallantly asked Lucy for the first dance, and while I was dreading waiting for a partner, Mr. Fulke came to my rescue and asked me! I warned him that I am a dreadful dancer, but he merely smiled.

"I know," he said, quite cheekily. "I watched some of your practices with Lucy."

"Why!" I gasped. "We thought we were alone in the house."

"Oftentimes I would hide in my study and watch," he confessed. "I know it was terrible of me, but I couldn't resist. The gales of laughter coming from the parlour were too delightful."

Lucy and I had spent more time laughing at my mistakes than actually dancing!

Mr. Fulke himself is a marvellous dancer—light and graceful on his feet—and while dancing with him I didn't feel anywhere near as clumsy as I normally do. I acquitted myself admirably through that first dance, and then Richard spoiled it all by coming to do his duty by me and criticizing my every step, so that of course I stumbled worse than ever.

"Good lord, Cass, how does a woman get to be seventeen years of age and not know how to dance?" he asked me in disgust.

"I don't know," I snapped back at him. "How does a young man reach twenty-one years of age and not know how to speak politely to his cousin?"

We glared at each other for a few moments and then burst into laughter. However irritating Richard is, he is always willing to laugh at himself (and everyone else).

Despite Richard making me look like even worse of a dancer than I truly am, I did not lack for partners. Papa even danced with me once, which made me feel like I was five years old—but in a good way. He even got a bit misty-eyed toward the end, telling me how proud he was of me, and how I had grown up to be such a lovely young woman.

Sir Thomas also paid me a compliment, telling me how "dashed nice" I looked, but he spoiled it by immediately following up with, "Remarkable! Quite remarkable!" He kept saying how remarkable it was until Aunt B jabbed him in the ribs with her fan.

She told me I looked quite nice, as well, and then asked in an agitated whisper if my gloves were fresh. I assured her that Mama would never let me leave the house with dingy gloves, and she retired, reassured.

Miss C spent the evening flirting with all the men, married or not, while we Bertrams tried to pretend we didn't know her. Even Richard finds her abominable, asking when Papa and Mama were going to tell her to leave.

"I fear they never will," I answered mournfully. "Papa is too kind, and Mama too gentle. I am afraid She is here until She decides to leave."

He frowned terribly, but was distracted a moment later by a charming young thing fluttering her eyelashes at him.

Miss Cooke was there, but despite Aunt B's best efforts, Richard only danced once with her. He danced three times with Lucy, however!

Lucy was one of the most popular ladies at the ball, I am proud to say. Her sweet nature and lovely face make her quite sought-after, and her exquisite dancing only helps. During one of the few dances I sat out, I watched her fly about the room like a butterfly and wished I could be so effortlessly graceful—or even that graceful with an effort!

I must have sighed, for the next thing I knew, Mr. Fulke was at my elbow, inquiring if anything ailed me. I did not know how to tell him my thoughts without sounding petty, so I smiled and said no, nothing at all.

"Now then, Miss Bertram," he scolded me lightly, "I thought we agreed to always speak truth to each other?"

Though he spoke jestingly, I felt a pang at my cowardly attempt to equivocate, so I spoke up boldly. "The truth is, Mr. Fulke, that I dearly wish I could be more like your sister. She is both good and beautiful, and I, alas, am neither."

"Lucy is a rare gem," he agreed, "but I do not think you give yourself enough credit, Miss Bertram."

"Now who is being insincere?" I challenged him.

His eyes were perfectly serious as he answered, "I assure you, I am quite sincere."

He vanished into the crowd then, leaving me puzzled. Did he mean that I am more good than I thought, or more beautiful? Either idea seems nonsense to me!

Unfortunately, Miss C happened to be standing nearby when we were talking, and now she tapped me with her fan.

"You sly minx!" she laughed. "I knew you had a tendresse for the curate. He is quite handsome, isn't he?"

"Mr. Fulke is my friend," I answered impatiently, annoyed to feel a blush rising to my cheeks. "Nothing more. I am only seventeen, Miss Crawford, hardly old enough to think of marriage."

"Marriage, perhaps, but little flirtations can start at any age!" she said.

I gave her my best imitation of Aunt de L's icy glare. "I do not approve of flirting," I said coldly, and walked away in a rage.

It is most unfair. I have so been enjoying Mr. Fulke's friendship, but now I am all worried. What if others besides Her think we are flirting? I know all too well how quickly rumours can begin in a place like this, and how seriously they can damage one's reputation. I care very little for my own reputation, but I do care for Papa's—and for Mr. Fulke's, when it comes down to it. Now I don't know how to act around him—should I behave as though we are still friends, or would it be more proper to step back and be merely civil?

And why is it so unreasonable that men and women should be friends, without the bother of romance and intrigue? Why does everyone assume that there cannot be genuine, disinterested friendship between the genders? If Lucy and I can be friends, there is no natural, logical reason why her brother and I cannot—and yet people assume that there must be something more to it.

And, most infuriating of all, I even find myself wondering if Mr. Fulke intends more than friendship, with his enigmatic compliment! If even I cannot tell if our friendship is disinterested, how can I expect the rest of the world to see it so?

Perhaps I simply have not received enough compliments in my life to take one at face value.

Back to the ball—despite my outrage at Miss C, as long as I avoided her I managed to enjoy the rest of my night. Mr Fulke did not come near me again until it was time to go home and we were simply part of the crowd, so I did not have to fret over the meaning behind his words.

Richard sat out one dance with me, to my astonishment. Then he started discussing Lucy, and I realized he had an ulterior motive. He raved about her "alabaster brow" and "raven locks" and "sea-green eyes." (Lucy does have unusual-coloured eyes—sea-green is perhaps the best way to describe them, though I would have likened them more to a moss-green.) He said she "had the most perfect, dainty figure he'd ever seen in a woman, and how does someone like that come to be free? She is free, is she not, Cass?"

I told him that to my knowledge, Lucy was unspoken for, but I very much doubted she would ever consider leaving her brother.

"Nonsense!" Richard laughed. "Don't tell me any woman wouldn't abandon her nearest and dearest for a chance to get married! Besides, as Lady of Mansfield Park she would still be close to her brother."

He had not intended to speak so bluntly, for he suddenly turned dark red and threatened to cut off my hair if I repeated his words to anyone.

I tartly reminded him that I was not given to gossip, and he was far more likely to let people know he was considering matrimony than I was, for he is perfectly incapable of keeping a secret!

"I'm not really ready to marry," he said, looking alarmed. "Dash it, I've got my whole life ahead of me. I have no intention of burdening myself with a wife yet, no matter how pretty she is." He gave his infamous sideways smile. "If I were to consider it, however, Miss Fulke would be the one."

I did not hesitate to tell him that Lucy is far too good for the likes of him; if all he can see in her is her beauty, he is missing what makes her so special: her clever mind, her sweet spirit, her good heart …

He laughed and tweaked my nose as if I was ten years old again!

(By the way, I do not fear for my hair in relating this to you, for Richard knows I tell you everything, and he trusts your discretion far more than his own.)

Aside from all these interesting conversations, the ball was about as I had expected: many girls giggling and acting quite silly; many men responding in kind; many chaperones ignoring their charges in favour of the supper table; and much clumsy dancing on my part. Thankfully all the gentlemen with whom I danced (except Richard) were too polite to make comment on my dubious skills, but I noticed more than one limping after we finished.

It is a great burden to be born clumsy! No amount of training ever truly overcomes it. Thankfully I managed to avoid tearing my gown, though my gloves were in such a dreadful state by the time we got home I had to throw them out. That, of course, has nothing to do with clumsiness, but Aunt B always says she can tell who is a proper young lady and who is not by the state of her gloves.

I noticed that Lucy's were as pristine when we dropped her and Mr. Fulke off as they were when we picked them up!

I have had the most marvellous thought, Jamie. If only you could fall in love with Lucy, and she with you! You would be sure to appreciate her beyond her appearance, and she would be just the one to encourage you and draw you out of your shell. You two would suit each other far more than Richard and Lucy ever could, and I would not have to hate your wife!

Really, it is an ideal situation.

You know I am teasing you, Jamie; I loathe those who are always "making matches." You may marry whomever you please, whenever you please, and I shall support you in it, even if she is a filthy fishwife you found on the docks!

Besides, I am in no hurry to lose my dearest friend—my dearest female friend, that is—even to one as worthy as you.

Taking it all in, I am glad Aunt de L convinced Mama and Papa to let me go. It was an entertaining night, and aside from Miss C, enjoyable. However, I do not think I am in any danger of turning into a butterfly who flits from social engagement to social engagement. One ball in a season is plenty for me, thank you very much! I would much rather spend an evening in intelligent conversation—or, if that is impossible, in reading a good book by the fire, with a plate of scones and a cup of tea by my side.

Speaking of which, I believe I shall stop writing now and procure myself those very items. Staying up so late last night has made me exceedingly hungry today—what would Aunt B think!

Yours, tiredly,

Cass.