The agitation of Henry Crawford was almost more than he could bear. It had been nearly a week now, and he had yet to even catch a glimpse of Fanny since the Great Rushworth Exodus. He wished he could say that he was a strong man, capable of going about his days normally, but Fanny's absence tormented him. He watched as her dutiful servant brought meals to her and took them away later.

He was too embarrassed to admit that he had neglected his estate and tenants a bit these past days. He was even more embarrassed to admit that his estate and tenants got along well enough without him, having a more than capable steward and underlings that were used to his chronic negligence in his bachelor days.

This afternoon, six days after Fanny began her seclusion, Henry vowed to finish some correspondence that had begun to accumulate. He had managed to sit behind his desk, when a thought suddenly stuck him, and leaving his in quite a shock.

Could it be possible, that perhaps, Fanny was upset over the Maria incident?

Completely abandoning all pretense of work, he began to pace the floor.

Henry felt like a complete idiot at not considering this before. Truthfully, the matter was of little consequence for him, but Fanny may not know the complete story. That Fanny should feel betrayed and hurt because of him was a complete novel, and horrid, idea. That he loved her beyond anything else in the world was clear to him, but was it clear to Fanny?

However, this brought on a new consequence, which would mean that Fanny was not only needing her space after a traumatizing insult from her cousin, but she was avoiding him. Henry paused at this then resumed pacing. The thought that Fanny was hurt because of his tormented him more than her prolonged absence, although if she was that hurt, perhaps she cared for him. But every woman would be devastated in her situation whether she cared for her idiot husband or not. Yet, Fanny had been to gentle, and dared he think, loving towards him, calling him Henry for the first time and tending his wounds. Then again she had shown just as much gentleness and kindness to his horse. But that night…

The night he had finally taken Fanny in his arms. He had felt her soft skin and her warm breaths, a memory that eclipsed anything else he had ever experienced. She had rested her lovely head against his chest and he had ran his fingers through the sandy cascading waves of her hair. Could she have felt nothing? It seemed almost impossible to Henry that she had not felt anything, when he had felt so much.

It was here when Henry felt the most conflicted, that he stopped his pacing. He was mentally exhausted, and he had reached no suitable conclusion. The only option, it seemed to him, was to ask the lady herself. Even if he had to battle a very stubborn maid.

A knock at the door startled him into the present.

"Come in," he commanded.

A manservant stepped into his study with a bow.

"Sir, there is a visitor here for Mrs. Crawford." The man saved.

"A visitor?"

During her voluntary isolation, Fanny had roamed the halls and gardens only early in the morning, as her husband was not an early riser. Now it was early afternoon, but she indiscriminately hurried through the halls. She was unsure if she had understood Allie correctly.

"Mrs. Allen, could you please so to tea and have it sent to the drawing room?" Fanny asked as she went past the housekeeper. She backtracked with an after thought. "Would you also see to adding another place at dinner tonight?"

"Certainly, Mrs. Crawford," Mrs. Allen bowed at Fanny's retreating form. Like Allie, Mrs. Allen had a great fondness for the Lady of Everingham. In her innermost thoughts, even though she had never had fervent loyalty toward an employer like others, she admitted that she would follow and protect this Lady, regardless of her common past.

Fanny stepped gingerly into the drawing room. She spotted him facing the window. His familiar form in a different world confused her senses for a moment.

"Edmund," The word fell from her lips awkwardly.

Edmund turned, he quickly folded a letter he must have been reading and tucked it into his coat. There was something different about his aspect, something that was difficult to place place. But then he smiled. His familiar smile that was reserved only for her.

"Fanny," He stepped forward and embraced her. Shocked, Fanny tensed for a minute. He was a dear cousin, but he had never been as forward. She forced her thoughts away and returned his embrace before stepping away casually.

"This is quite a surprise," She smiled at her cousin. "You could have written so that we could be more prepared." She noted his haggard dress. "Have you been riding long?"

"Think nothing of it dear cousin," Edmund waved away her concern. "I was travelling near and I decided to visit. I have not seen you since your wedding months ago."

"We have much to speak on," Fanny motioned toward the seats in the room. Wendy, the head downstairs maid, knocked and entered with refreshments and small appetizers. "Have you not a wedding to plan for yourself?"

The statement came naturally, without the usual angst. It surprised Fanny, her outward calmness hid not terrible pain as it once did, only a small touch of sadness. She began preparing the tea things as she knew Edmund liked them.

"The wedding," Edmund paused, his serene face clouding for a moment. "Has been postponed."

"Postponed?" Fanny straightened. "Whatever for?"

Edmund raised his eyebrows at her forwardness.

"Pardon," Fanny blushed and quieted. She set his cup before him. "I am surprised and concerned. You were so happy when I read your letter not long ago."

"Mary and I …" Edmund tried to smile but a slight frown formed on his brow. "We are very much different. I knew this before we were engaged, but I believed we could resolve our differences… Fanny I have allowed Mary time to reevaluate our engagement."

Fanny gasped involuntarily. She could not begin to imagine what Edmund must feel going through this. He loved Mary. This she was as sure of as she was that she had loved him.

"Edmund, you have my full support." She said, wondering just how powerful the Crawford name was. A broken engagement was not a colossal scandal, especially if the lady initiated it, and the man was less likely to receive repercussions from it. Even so there was no harm in a powerful family name standing behind Edmund, to recommend him as an honorable clergyman.

"Mr. Crawford, ma'am," Lucas, the butler, announced. Henry stepped into the room.

Fanny trained her facial features and forced her eyes upward to her husband. She had last seen him a few days ago, but it felt much longer. She felt a small flare of anger and regret that she quickly dismissed. It was neither the time nor place. He wore the same expressionless mask he had worn during the Rushworth visit. This time, though, his eyes were hard. It frightened Fanny.

"Mr. Crawford," Edmund stood and bowed to him. Fanny was shocked to note the same mask on her cousin as he regarded Henry.

"Mr. Bertram," Henry responded politely.

"I apologize for my lack of prior notice of my intentions." Edmund settled back into his armchair when Henry took a seat beside Fanny in the settee. She wondered if Edmund could feel the tension between the couple, but then both men seemed preoccupied with each other.

"It is of no consequence," Henry said gallantly. "Any family of my wife is welcome to Everingham."

"You are too kind, Mr. Crawford." Edmund narrowed his eyes.

Henry waved away the praise. "Have you been travelling long?"

"A few days," Edmund nodded. "I had some delicate business in town. I apologize, but I must request a private meeting with you about these matters."

"Yes, of course," Henry turned to Fanny taking her hand. "I will take Mr. Bertram to my study, perhaps you may arrange dinner for our guest this evening?" He looked back at Edmund. "You will of course stay for dinner, no?"

Edmund bowed. "I would be honored."

Fanny leaned toward Henry, regretting her action as soon as she felt his proximity. "Shall I make sleeping arrangements as well? He seems fatigued and Mansfield Park is still ways away." Her voice was soft, not to keep Edmund from hearing, but because Henry's mask made her uncomfortable to ask too loudly.

His expression transformed and he gave her a small smile. It reached his stone eyes. "Yes, of course, if he agrees."

Fanny caught her breath at the closeness of their faces, pulling back to looked at Edmund. "Will you stay the night, Edmund? You need to replenish your strength and your horses can rest. We have much to discuss."

"I despise being a burden, but I would welcome a good rest after such travel." Edmund was not looking at her, but at some point behind her.

"It is no burden," Henry assured him, standing and leading Edmund from the drawing room.

Fanny remained seated after they left, looking down at the hand her husband had held and wondered why it burned and why she could feel her pulse resounding in her chest.