A/N: I now present you the chapter in which Edmund finally sees the light – please review and tell me your thoughts!


Chapter Two – Comprehension Dawns


With perhaps the exception of Fanny herself, Edmund was the last to come to know that his feelings for her had, somewhere along the line, changed from a brotherly affection to something far deeper.

In the comfortable evenings at Mansfield, Sir Thomas would occasionally glance up from his newspaper to indulgently observe the two of them sitting together, engrossed in their conversation. The smallest of smiles crept across his face as he cherished what had of late become his dearest hope. From the events of the past year, he had lost his taste for promoting marriage for the sake of wealth or ambition, and had come to value soundness of principle, sweetness of temper and goodness more than anything. He was as proud of Fanny as any father could be of his daughter, and nothing would please him more than to be able to call her his daughter in truth.

Tom, sitting at the writing desk poring over estate accounts or plans for building new cottages for the tenants (tasks he had zealously applied himself to on recovery from his illness), could not help smirking slightly as he saw them. Often he was tempted to take Edmund aside and simply point out the truth to him, but only a fear that his brother's perversity would cause this to simply lead him deeper into denial prevented him. For now he simply contented himself with watching and occasionally catching Susan's eye, for their amused glint spoke of the fact that she knew as well as he did, what Edmund didn't.

Even Lady Bertram had marked some shift in the relationship between her younger son and her niece, but where she would normally have protested, citing the reason that she simply could not do without Fanny, now she had Susan, who made almost as good a companion. In the generosity of her heart, she thought that if it must be so, it must; and if the young people could only wait until Susan had become versed in all the little duties Fanny had always performed for her, then it might not be so very bad a thing if she did leave.

However, despite everyone around them consigning them to each other, it would take something more to cause Edmund to realise the fact that this was his wish too.


It was not seeing her in a ballgown looking more lovely than he had ever seen her that did it. It was not seeing her in the plainest cotton dress and realising she was still the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen that did it. It was not being in her presence that did it. It was having to suffer her absence.

For the past week he had been kept prisoner within Thornton Lacey by the torrential rain and howling winds, unable to join his thoughts which were firmly with Fanny at Mansfield Park. Why was it that he missed Fanny so much?

Easy. Life was dull without going for walks or rides with her. Life was dull without discussing books and poetry with her. Life was dull without having her dear face to look at. Life was dull without experiencing the glow of witnessing her quiet kindness towards everyone. Life was dull without her smiles and the rare brightness of her laughter.

The thought occurred to him that his life would be so much happier if he could simply keep Fanny with him always, here at Thornton Lacey. It was such a bother having to part in the evening. It would certainly be a great deal better if she could stay with him – then they need never part.

It took him very little time after that to realise that the circumstances he had been imagining as ideal sounded very much like marriage. And then he knew himself.

He knew himself to be hopelessly in love with his cousin. He knew his happiness to be dependent on her acceptance of him. He knew himself to be the blindest fool on the face of the planet, the most confounded idiot ever to deceive himself, the most inconsiderate blockhead ever to neglect the right woman for the wrong one.

The more he thought about it, the more he found in his conduct to reprove. Every part of his mind except for his love for Fanny, was abhorrent. To ignore what was under his nose, to misguidedly pursue Miss Crawford had been bad. But infinitely worse had been the crime of having neglected Fanny not only as the man who loved her, but also as her cousin and protector – where had he been when she had been ordered about by her unreasonable aunts to the point of illness? Where had he been when she had been languishing indoors for want of exercise? Letting Miss Crawford monopolize his attention, of course.

And then there was the matter of Mr. Crawford. At the time when Fanny had most needed his support, he had sided with the rest of his family and had urged her to accept the man. Fool! To try to dispose of the loveliest and best of all creatures to such a shallow, treacherous man – how he would have lived to regret that decision if she had, due to his urging, accepted Crawford! For his eyes would have been opened eventually, both to Mary Crawford's true nature and to his own feelings for Fanny, and then he would have been unhappy indeed.

Fanny could never and would never marry Crawford now, but still – what advantage was that to him? Had he realised his own heart sooner, had he striven to be allowed the honour of Fanny's hand before she had met Mr. Crawford, he might now be happily married to her. It might not even have been very hard to make her love him; he knew she already held a warm, sisterly regard for him, and that she valued his friendship. In time he might have encouraged her to feel more. Now, due to his own blindness, Fanny had slipped out of his reach – she was in love with Crawford. He knew Fanny. While she was in love with another, senseless as it might seem to some, she would never accept him. And he had nobody else to blame but himself.

He made up his mind. He would be a friend to her. He would be there for her when she needed him. And if it took forever, he would wait for her to get over Crawford. Then, when she was ready, he would tell her of his love and leave his fate to her answer.

It was going to be hard to wait until then, he thought as he gazed listlessly out the window at the driving rain, with a sigh to trump any of the ones provoked by Mary Crawford.