A/N: Happy New Year, everyone! Hope you like this chapter. Now for some emotional blackmail – my birthday's coming up in a few days (I'm not joking, it really is), and the best present I could get would be reviews from everyone who's reading this. Would love to hear from any and all of you!


Chapter Four – Advice


Time did not lessen Edmund's pain and anguish, and for the next few weeks after his disastrous conversation with Fanny, he avoided Mansfield Park for the most part, spending a large portion of his time alone at Thornton Lacey. His excuse had been that as Christmas was fast approaching, his duties in the parish had increased, and to some extent it was true. He found himself busier than usual, but was distracted through it all. Had Fanny at this time been his betrothed, he would have found no difficulty in being a frequent visitor at Mansfield – but as matters stood, he had determined it best to avoid the place.

And yet... and yet on the occasions that he had gone there, she had seemed so delighted to see him, had seemed to take such pleasure in his company, the more for its being rarer. He had been confused, agitated and even hopeful, before her behaviour became clear to him. She might not ever be able to love him, might not ever be persuaded to marry him, but she valued his friendship, and still had a sort of habitual regard for him which made her sorry to be deprived of his company.

He relented on his self-imposed exile and was once more frequently at Mansfield. Such smiles, and such conversation were not to be resisted. Even if being with Fanny was painful in one sense due to the knowledge that her affections were forever beyond his reach, in every other sense it was everything that he could ever want. He would take whatever he could get; if friendship was all she could offer, then so be it. He would be her friend, and would love her quietly.

He would watch her quiet interaction with his family, would observe with pleasure their increasing dependence on her company and her judgment, would observe the soft glow of the firelight on her hair, would observe the light in her eyes as she perused that accursed book of sonnets once more, would appreciate the slender curve of her–

'Edmund?' He started, and dragged his gaze away from Fanny to see his father observing him with something suspiciously like amusement in his eyes. 'May I have a word with you, in private?'

He nodded dumbly, too preoccupied to ponder the reason, silently following his father to his study. Had he had a thought to spare to what his father might want with him, he might have predicted it to be something about the parish, or perhaps a request for advice about how to deal with the matter of Maria and Crawford, whose affair though ended, still had not died down as a subject of gossip. The last thing he expected was a discussion of Fanny.

For some time, Sir Thomas expounded her virtues, and Edmund could only silently agree, at a loss as to why he was hearing this. Finally his father looked at him, with an expression that could only be called wistful. 'There's a girl who's made her way to my heart, sure enough.' He paused. 'Nothing would please me more than to be able to call her my daughter.'

Edmund turned away for a moment to compose his features. His father misunderstood the action, and stepped around to face him once more, his expression now beseeching. 'I'm not saying you should marry her right away, Edmund; but consider it – accustom yourself to the idea. Don't you think you could love her if you tried?'

He laughed bitterly. If only that were the problem. 'There's no call for that,' he said finally. 'That's already done, but it's too late – she's as good as told me so.' He pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed heavily. 'She would never have me.'

His father's eyes widened. 'Did she refuse you?'

He shook his head slowly. 'I didn't ask her outright – but from something she said, I know... she could never...' He swallowed hard. 'I have only myself to blame.'

Sir Thomas said no more for a time, but simply placed a bracing hand on Edmund's shoulder. Presently he spoke again. 'If you were to take my advice, I would say you should ask her.' As Edmund's mouth opened in protest, he cut him off. 'If she refuses you, wait awhile, then ask again. Show her that you are constant, and you might eventually win her.' Edmund slowly nodded, processing this advice.

Leaving him standing as if glued to the spot, his father began to make his way out. At the doorway, he turned. 'Don't let her slip through your fingers for want of courage, Edmund,' he said. 'Do anything but that.'


'I can't believe I'm saying this, but I need your advice.' Edmund stood stiffly, hands clasped behind his back. Try as he might, he couldn't prevent himself from squirming a little under his older brother's smirk and incredulous raised eyebrow.

'My advice?' Tom's grin widened. 'I never thought this day would come – the day you ask me for advice instead of ramming it down my throat!'

Edmund tried not to roll his eyes as he sat. 'Please, be serious, Tom.' He sighed heavily as he sat. 'I need to know how to ask Fanny to marry me.'

Tom laughed outright. 'And you think I'm experienced in the phrasing of such a question? If you would marry her first and then come to me for advice, I could be of a little more help – stay!' For Edmund, with a noise of disgust, had risen to leave. 'Alright, I'll help you.' He quickly composed his features to hide any hint of amusement.

Edmund sat again, rather unwillingly. Tom had been his last resort as a port of advice, but he really did not know who else to ask. Rather to his surprise, under Tom's more serious expression of sympathy, he found himself confessing his fears. 'I have no idea what to say to her.' He ran a hand through his hair in agitation. 'Knowing me, even if I did have any chance with her, I'd find some way to ruin it.'

Tom looked thoughtful for a moment. Then he began to speak. 'You know Shakespeare?' Edmund nodded. 'Fanny loves to read him – all women seem to love the man. Why?'

Edmund looked mystified. 'Because his works are insightful, original and well-written?'

Tom looked ready to give up on him. 'Because he's a romantic. He writes about love, beauty and lovely weather as if that's all he thinks about.' This was a sentiment which Edmund did not entirely agree with, but he was in no position to argue, so he said nothing. 'I'm not saying,' continued Tom, 'that you should recite poetry at her. No, the wording should be all your own – but you should try to get the essence of Shakespeare's romanticism in your proposal.'

Edmund opened his mouth to speak, but Tom cut him off. 'How, you ask?' He grinned as Edmund shut his mouth again. 'Easy – what do you love most about Fanny?'

Edmund didn't have to think. 'Her kindness towards everybody, her infallible moral standards, her keen intelligence, her sound judgement –'

Tom gave a long-suffering sigh. 'Edmund, no. That's all wrong – this is why you need my help. Fanny's beauty should be the thing upon which you first wax eloquent. In your mind you should list each feature: eyes, mouth, nose, ears, complexion, hair... you understand? And then find something romantic to say about each.'

Edmund nodded, trying to store all this in memory. 'And then what?'

'And then, you should tell her you love her,' Tom said. Edmund began to feel that this proposal business might actually be doable after all; at least this piece of advice seemed to be something he could see himself putting into practice. But then as Tom continued, his conviction of his own ignorance in such matters strengthened. 'But don't say it just like that. You should compare your love for her to other things.'

'Other things?' Edmund had not felt this stupid since studying Latin grammar at school, years ago.

Tom rolled his eyes and then began to explain slowly as if to a child. 'You know, for example: "I love you like Aunt Norris loves money" or "I love you like Yates loves acting".'

Edmund observed his brother through narrowed eyes for a moment, but Tom's expression gave nothing away. He looked completely serious. 'And then what?'

'You ask her to marry you, of course! But –' Edmund cringed. He knew there had to be a 'but'; so far this proposal business seemed nothing if not complicated. '– don't say something boring like "Will you marry me" or "Will you be my wife". You've got to be more creative than that – set yourself apart from the others. Be original.'

Edmund only just prevented himself from crying out in frustration. 'How?' he managed through gritted teeth.

'Well, you could say something like "When I die, will you be my widow?" or – my personal favourite – "Will you give me the right to divorce you if you run off with Crawford too?"'

There was a long silence.

'Any questions?' Tom asked innocently, after a few minutes had passed in this manner. Edmund shook his head silently, and then head spinning with all this brotherly advice, he turned and left the room.

As soon as his brother was out of hearing range, Tom slumped over his desk, breathless with laughter. He loved Edmund and Fanny, and wanted nothing more than for the two of them to finally get together. But he loved his fun as well, and the opportunity had been too good to resist. Of course he never would have done it unless he were almost certain that Fanny would accept Edmund no matter how pathetic his proposal was.