Morning came too soon for the Bertram family following the evening of the ball. In fact, the ladies ignored it completely and continued their slumber into the early afternoon. Even Fanny did not rise until noon.
She greeted the day with a confused, but positive composition. Independent from marriage, she wished to keep Tom as a friend, and she missed having someone to speak with in the household. Now with the pressures of the ball gone, she felt she could explain her feelings to him.
Unbeknownst to her, the whole of London was in a ruckus and could not contain itself with the gossip that inflated with every retellings. Unfortunately, these tales she would not be able to ignore as she had up until now.
Approaching the drawing room, Fanny caught sight of Tom within, a very stern look on his face. She braced herself for whatever it was that was bothering him. She wanted very much to ease the tension between them from their dance last night.
As she moved closer, Sir Bertram came into view as well. For a moment she feared they were having an important conference, but they were in the front drawing room instead of a more private room. Sir Bertram was speaking with someone to his other side.
Coming into full view, she saw Mr. Crawford of all people.
He saw her first and stood quickly, locking eyes with her in a way she did not recognize. Tom quickly followed suit, and Sir Bertram after. Fanny blinked in confusion from the doorway as the three gentlemen stood in full attention.
"Good morning, Fanny," Sir Bertram finally greeted her and the other two echoed the sentiment. She gave them her best curtsy and wanted nothing more than to excuse herself. "Please take a seat, Fanny. There is something we need to speak about."
Fanny nervously took the chair furthest from the three men.
"You are a bright girl, Fanny." Sir Bertram rubbed his chin. "I have come to trust your opinion."
It was everything she could do to keep from furrowing her brows at that strange comment.
"Mr. Crawford came calling this morning, to ask you on a carriage ride in Hyde Park." Sir Bertram said blandly.
Tom stiffed, but looked at her with curiosity. Mr. Crawford watched her hopefully.
This was ridiculous. Why would Mr. Crawford invite her on a carriage ride?
"I can go fetch Julia," Fanny began to stand. It could only mean all four were going out.
"No, Fanny," Mr. Crawford's lips twitched with a contained smile. "The invitation is only for you this afternoon."
Shock heated her face as she realized the implications. She understood why Sir Bertram had said he trusted her opinion. She was being watched carefully by the three men in the room.
In her life there had been few times her opinion and choices were of any consequence. Her parents dictated her childhood and her Bertram relations the rest of the years. Her mind now rushed back and forth over the simple request. She weighed the appropriateness, the opinion of her uncle and cousin, as well as what anyone else seeing them would think.
Taking all that into consideration, the obvious answer was no.
She prepared to politely express just that, when a small thought at the edge of her mind nudged nervously. The fact of the matter was that despite all the implications, she wanted to go.
She looked, if a little regretfully, at her cousin, unsure how he would feel about it.
Upon reception of her glance, his face loosed the tension it had gained over the silence. He smiled and gave her a half nod.
Not in permission, but in dismissal of her concern.
"Mr. Crawford, if you give me a few moments I will prepare myself to join you." Fanny finally spoke.
Fanny stood as she spoke, and did not catch the grin that broke out on his face.
A carriage ride was not uncommon at Hyde Park. An open carriage with two young people was expected even, and provided the ton with more food for speculation. However, a carriage that contained two previously thought affianced young people was unheard of and, quite frankly, fed the flame that had already begun the night before.
A lady had observed their dance at the ball. Then another, their intimate conversation and subsequent muttering between Sir Bertram and Henry Crawford. By morning, all of London knew that Mr. Crawford, one of London's most eligible bachelors and rumored fiancé of the famed Miss Croft, was courting Miss Price, a mysteriously quiet relation of the Bertrams and betrothed to their eldest.
While the whole of London was twittering nonstop about them, the aforementioned allowed a silence to stretch between them as Mr. Crawford pulled them along in his beautiful carriage. A silence as painful as those at the beginning of their aquaintenship.
Fanny looked about at the trees and general park before her. She had no nice umbrella to keep the sun at bay, so she relied on her bonnet both to shield her from the mid afternoon sun and Mr. Crawford's gaze. Sally was in the back as a reluctant witness, for Fanny could not conceive being alone with him.
"The weather seems to have favored us today." Mr. Crawford mentioned.
"It is sunny," was all Fanny could contribute.
"It is rare to have these days in London,"
"From what I have witnessed, you're right."
There was another uncomfortable pause.
"Miss Price, have I offended you?" Mr. Crawford finally asked.
She should have been mortified at his bluntness, but, honestly, anything was better than the awkwardness and she was becoming used to these conversations with him.
"You have not, Mr. Crawford," This time she dared a glance at him.
He caught her and shared a smirk.
"Then why are you so shy with me now?" He prodded.
"Well, I…" There really was no reason to. They had established themselves as reasonably good friends. They had been fine the night before.
She realized this was all his doing, with the strange requests and odd visits. Otherwise, she would be enjoying the lovely day instead of having to scavenge her brain for the next thing to say.
"I am simply trying to rationalize your behavior, Mr. Crawford," Fanny told him finally. "You have been acting strange."
"Indeed, I have," Mr. Crawford seemed to become more animated with the conversation. "I was hoping you would have inferred, just as all of London has."
She gave him but a blink.
"Of course, you are much too selfless and self-deprecating to conclude my reasoning."
She was unsure if he was complimenting or insulting her, so she only narrowed her eyes at him.
"You know that your face is very expressive," He trailed off. "Even when you say little, I can see what you must be feeling."
Fanny gave him what she hoped was an annoyed look.
"Yes, right," Now he turned back to his horses, which were beautiful beasts in their own right. "I believe I owe you an explanation."
This they could both agree on.
"When I first met you, I admit I did little to gain your good favor. I was distracted and too immature."
She remembered the darker days where he and Maria openly flirted just before her marriage. The awkward situation no one else noticed. She had been in love with Edmund during that time, and he with Mary.
"Then after my sister's wedding, we were staying in Mansfield Park, closer than ever. And we slowly became acquainted, which was when you became the most fascinating lady I have ever spoken with."
Fanny's frown deepened the more he spoke, confused as to what he was saying.
"When we parted, many realizations were made known to me." He was very obviously avoiding her face now in a surprising moment of bashfulness. "First, I was a fool and needed to modify my behavior. I could not bear to live beneath your standards. Second, I missed you terribly, your conversations and you as a whole. Lastly, I was in love with you."
It was good that he was looking shyly away from her, because she had been feeling her face heat this entire time. When he spoke those last words, they resounded as if they were at the end of a tunnel.
It was impossible.
She was not hearing correctly.
It was a dream.
Or…
She did not know what she was feeling as all sorts of emotions flashed and swirled.
He waited for her reaction, and she wondered if jumping from a moving carriage was a viable option.
"Is that a smile?" Mr. Crawford marveled when he gave her a glance.
She quickly hid what had indeed been a smile.
She did not know where it had come from. And she blushed that he had seen it.
"Well that gives me enough encouragement to ask, then," He was smiling now, his shyness gone.
"Ask what?" She had not meant her voice to go as high pitched. And it embarrassed her more than the smile he caught. What could he say that could be any worse?
"If I may court you?" He whispered loudly, he never stopped smiling.
She thought again of the moving ground beneath them.
She was in a panic.
He hated giving her so much confusion, but these confessions were never easy. He knew at least that she would not like an audience. Although the maid in the back may not agree at the adequate level of privacy, or the people in the park staring openly at them as they pass, already drawing their own conclusions.
He tried to give her space as she processed, but she looked very lovely this morning. She wore a seafoam green gown that made her soft brown eyes look more like hazel. He could not help but want to keep looking at her.
He had never spoken about love as seriously as he had just confessed. It was torment of his own to express himself and bare his emotions just like that. Yet he was here.
"Tom," She said softly.
The happiness abandoned him, leaving him cold.
He gave a sigh. He was afraid of this, but he knew what she would say next.
"He has proposed," She finally looked at him completely, openly. "I cannot hurt him."
Her words, while expected, stabbed through the fantastical haze he had been creating. While infatuations had been commonplace for Henry in the past, this raw emotion called love and it's disappointing companion, heartbreak, were unfamiliar. And painful.
While the magnitude did not compare, the closest he had ever felt to this was his mother's passing ten years prior. It was the most immediate comparison in its realness and the vulnerability he felt.
However, unlike that wretched circumstance, he still had the power of choice in this matter. He seldom backed out of a challenge.
He took note of the delightful day that contrasted so horribly with the returned tension between them. The greenery had brightened with the early morning drizzle, and shone from the rays of light that finally illuminated the grey landscape. His recently brushed mares galloped cheerfully, happy for the exercise. He had chosen them specifically because they complimented Miss Price's temperament in their gentleness.
She was still facing him.
Looking down at his lapel, he took the little rose he had placed there this morning. He had been ready far too early and had added the accessory on a whim. He held out the flower to the pretty girl beside him. He seldom backed out of a challenge, but it had never involved someone precious to him, and her feelings.
"I understand," He said when she took the flower. The brush of her gloved fingers rendered him stunned for a moment.
He attempted a smile, but Miss Price's face was swimming in pain. He felt sick knowing that he had caused it, but there was something more. The regret and gentleness was so clear that he felt his own expression change to match hers, and he wondered if he had made a mistake.