Author's Notes: This story was written for May/June 2023 Never Complained Before theme at A Happy Assembly, though it wasn't written until December 2023. Admittedly, there's more anger than complaining, but I still think it qualified. In any event this very short piece takes place at the end of Chapter 32 and the beginning of Chapter 33 of Mansfield Park, when Fanny is forced to once again reiterate her refusal to Henry Crawford, who just won't take no for an answer, and she's really had enough.

Gratitude is Not Enough

"And I should have been very much surprised had either of my daughters, on receiving a proposal of marriage at any time which might carry with it only half the eligibility of this, immediately and peremptorily, and without paying my opinion or my regard the compliment of any consultation, put a decided negative on it. I should have been much surprised and much hurt by such a proceeding. I should have thought it a gross violation of duty and respect. You are not to be judged by the same rule. You do not owe me the duty of a child. But, Fanny, if your heart can acquit you of ingratitude—" [Sir Thomas Bertram, Mansfield Park, Chapter 32]

Ingratitude, ingratitude, ingratitude. The word had echoed in her mind for a night and a day. She always had to be grateful. Always. But even if she was, somehow, she never seemed to be grateful enough. There was always something she did not do quickly enough or determined enough. And she tried, she tried. But surely this was too far. No gratitude would call for this sacrifice to a man of no principles. And to have to hear her Aunt Norris call her selfish through half of dinner exacerbated the headache she had been hiding half the day. And then to not even have a night free of her unwanted suitor but to find herself alone with Henry Crawford, forced to listen to his insincere (they had to be insincere) declarations of affections and intentions and refusal to believe her own very sincere rejection of him. As she listened to him insist that there was nothing uncongenial in their characters, arguing against her words once more, something within her snapped.

"Enough!" Her head was throbbing so badly, and she wanted this terrible ordeal to be over. Why could he not accept her unequivocal rejection? "Mr. Crawford, when I said we were unfitted for each other by nature, education, and habit, I was not speaking with a lack of knowledge; I was speaking of your inconstancy and lack of principle. Did you think me blind or ignorant of your behavior with my cousins, most especially my cousin Maria? Did you think I ascribed anything other than the same insincerity to your attentions to me? That they were all to make me like you without any other intention?" She hoped this would silence him, but again she misjudged him.

"My dear, I don't know what you believe passed between your cousins and me other than idle flirtation (do not blame me for any bitterness on their part), but it can no way compare to my feelings for you which are all that are true and deep. I have never done so much for a lady as I have done for you. For you alone, I went to my uncle..."

"And for my brother's sake I am... grateful," Fanny said, though the word almost choked in her throat, "but that is all. I do not owe you any duty or sacrifice."

"Fanny, it would not be a sacrifice... Surely, if nothing else with your tender heart, those feelings of gratitude..."

Fanny put her hands to her ears and turned away. "No more!" she cried. "I am sick to death of being told that if I do not bend my principles, if I do not do everything that everyone asks of me, that I am ungrateful, that I am undutiful, that I am selfish. For once I will be selfish." She took a deep breath. "Mr. Crawford, I have never desired your attentions. I have always been made uncomfortable by them. I cannot trust you, and I will not marry you. Now you must excuse me." She turned and fled the room, hoping she had made her point at last.

Unfortunately, Henry Crawford was more spurred on by this determined resistance and thought himself more in love than ever.

He was in love, very much in love; and it was a love which, operating on an active, sanguine spirit, of more warmth than delicacy, made her affection appear of greater consequence because it was withheld, and determined him to have the glory, as well as the felicity, of forcing her to love him. (Chapter 33)

But ultimately he failed. Henry Crawford really could not manage constancy. And Fanny Price was never more grateful to be correct.

End Notes:

If Mary Crawford is the dark Elizabeth Bennet (as I have often heard her described), Henry Crawford is the anti-Darcy. He really doesn't learn from his mistakes.

I suppose this could be considered a prequel to my other Mansfield Park Playground piece, "You Must, Of Course, Be Right: Or Fanny Price Discovers Sarcasm" as this Fanny seems a bit more inclined to speak up, though it seems to be to no purpose, as no one takes her seriously until she's been proven right by events. Yeah, I'm still angry about so much of this novel, but especially this section, though honestly Edmund, who should support her and doesn't, makes me so much angrier. But since this wasn't specifically written with a connection in mind, I'm posting it separately from the other two.

Reviews will be greatly appreciated (I dare not say gratefully received).