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Imagine you're a child again.
A child who has never been away from home before.
Not for one single day.
When I was ten years old, my mother decided she could no longer afford to keep me.
I was sent away from the little house in Portsmouth where I had been born.
Far away to live with my wealthy aunts:
Lady Bertram and Aunt Norris at Mansfield Park.
I had already been taught to be good.
Now I was told I must never forget to be grateful.
But for a long time, I was only timid and unhappy.
We should no doubt prepare ourselves for an ignorant child, with vulgar manners...
These are not incurable faults.
I trust she will prove well-disposed, with more sense than our sister.
Our sister has enough sense to send her daughter to us.
Being with her cousins will be an education itself.
I only hope she'll not tease poor Pug.
I have but just got Julia to leave it alone.
Miss.
Come, Fanny, meet your cousins.
This is Maria, and if I were to teach you nothing, you would learn to be good and clever from her.
Julia, Tom and Edmund.
How do you do?
Come meet your uncle Sir Thomas and your aunt Lady Bertram.
The child must be tired after so long a journey. Sit here, beside your aunt.
Edmund, give your cousin a slice of gooseberry tart.
This is not a very promising beginning.
I missed my noisy brothers and sisters and the rough and tumble of my own home.
No-one meant to be unkind, but I was the poor relation and I was often made to feel it.
Only Edmund put himself out to secure my happiness.
He became my one true friend.
And, as the years passed, I came to love him as more than a cousin.
Edmund! Fanny!
The Arrival Of The Queen Of Sheba
Excuse me, Aunt Norris,
Sir Thomas wishes to see us.
I'm not at all happy at having to leave Mansfield for so long, but it cannot be avoided.
Our affairs in the West Indies do not prosper.
I expect you to behave with proper decorum while I'm away.
Of you, Maria,
I ask only that your marriage to Mr. Rushworth should not take place before my return.
Then your return cannot be too soon for me, Sir Thomas.
Julia... I give you over to your Aunt Norris' care.
Edmund, I believe I may trust you to your own judgment.
Yes, sir.
Tom.
Here is a chance to prove yourself.
I hope so, sir.
Ah, Fanny, there was something I meant to say to you.
Should your brother's ship be in England, I hope you will invite him to Mansfield.
Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.
I had hoped William would find his sister at 18 much changed from his sister at ten,
but I fear he will not.
With Sir Thomas's departure, it was as if a cloud had been lifted from Mansfield Park.
Even for me, there was a spirit of newfound freedom.
I was 18, it was summer... and I had never been happier.
I thought Aunt Norris was never going to let me out.
How did you get away?
I told her I had a very tedious errand to run for my cousin.
I forgot...
I picked this for you.
If Rushworth didn't have 12,000 a year, what a very stupid fellow he'd be.
Luckily for him, he has.
I've had a letter from my brother Tom.
He's staying on in town.
Just what my father was afraid of.
Tom's whole life has turned into one long party.
I'm left to deal with everything.
Oh, I think it suits you very well.
Besides, it's not all work.
And I know this doesn't count, but I was never happier.
I'll race you. Come on!
In my innocence, I imagined I would be happy always.
Then, with the sudden brilliance of lightning,
fresh from the pleasures of London's fashionable society,
Mary Crawford and her brother Henry arrived in our lives.
Life at Mansfield Park would never be the same again.
What fine neighbors we have. This is where we shall begin, with the Bertrams.
Accounted with such a house, and it cannot be all deadly dull.
That will depend on the deadliness of its occupants.
- There are four children. - Oh, no children, please.
All now grown-up and highly eligible.
There is a younger son, but for myself I have chosen the elder.
The heir? You always do.
Even I couldn't think myself thrown away on the eldest son of a baronet.
So, dearest, minx, what is your strategy?
Tut-tut. No strategy. Only the use of our natural powers.
Then they are doomed.
And you, Henry? You shall marry the younger Miss Bertram.
The beautiful and eligible Julia.
We've been in a bad school for matrimony.
That I will allow. Marriage as we've seen it is all deceit and disappointment.
Then there's at least one advantage to bad schooling.
Are we not more likely to deceive than to be disappointed?
Here they are. One call always rely on fashionable people to be half an hour late.
Well, they don't have far to come.
I can't imagine a cottage will amuse them for long.
Indeed. Their mother, dear creature, could not endure it above a week.
They were pretty as children. How do they look now?
Well, Miss Crawford may have the London style, but her prettiness does our girls no disservice.
She's altogether too small and too brown.
And her brother, my dear, his income may be satisfactory, but he is plain, very plain.
On the subject of Mr. Crawford's plainness, it'll be best to let Julia be the judge.
I'm sorry the rest of my family are not here to greet you.
Your eldest son is not with you, Lady Bertram?
Since his father has been gone, Tom prefers London or Newmarket to Mansfield.
I do feel for you, Lady Bertram.
Has Sir Thomas encountered difficulties in Antigua?
It is, I believe, extremely hot.
Circumstances in the West Indies are much less favorable than before, Mr. Crawford.
I did not at all like to have Sir Thomas leave me,
but I have been astonished at how well Edmund supplies his place in carving,
in settling with the servants... I take his advice in everything.
Oh, then perhaps Mr. Bertram may advise me.
How might I advise you, Miss Crawford?
I'm assured that my harp has arrived safe in Northampton,
but do you think I can hire a cart to convey it here? No, I cannot.
You would find it difficult, Miss Crawford,
to hire a horse and cart just now, in the middle of harvest.
I expect I should understand you in time,
but coming from London where everything can be got with money,
I am quite put out by your country ways.
You could not be expected to have thought of it before, Miss Crawford,
but once you do, you must see the importance of getting in the grass.
Anyone for more lemonade?
Our one disadvantage, Miss Crawford,
is that Maria's wedding has to wait until after Christmas, for our father's return.
January is a disagreeable month in which to marry.
It is surely the most difficult month in which to make such a long sea voyage,
though I have taken certain measures to spare Lady Bertram the worst,
by ensuring that I am the first person to be acquainted with any fatal catastrophe.
My stepfather, the Admiral, ma'am, once made a winter crossing
in such mild weather the voyage took a month longer than expected.
In Sir Thomas's case, we will hope for a happy compromise between speed and safety.
How very well you put it, Mr. Crawford.
Indeed. And if it is Sir Thomas's fate never to return,
it shall be particularly consoling to see our darling Maria settled in such a great match.
Maria is without her parasol.
Fanny.
If Maria catches a headache, we shall all suffer.
This is perfect.
I'm tempted to call it too perfect.
If this were mine, I would introduce an element of the unexpected - of romance.
A ruined castle, perhaps.
We have no castle to ruin, sir.
But it's only pretense, Miss Julia.
One builds and ruins at the same time.
- Allow me. - Er... allow me.
Oh, my ankle.
- Here. - Thank you.
If Mansfield were mine, I should add a folly.
Now that I look at it objectively, Miss Crawford, I like what I see too much to want to change it.
Come, Edmund. You must surely fancy a little chapel.
Why in heaven would Mr. Bertram want a chapel?
Does he enjoy forcing ladies out of their bed early in order to kneel on a stone floor?
Especially unpleasant if the poor chaplain isn't worth looking at.
I am shortly to be ordained as a clergyman, Miss Crawford.
Well, then, you must forgive my pleasantries, Mr. Bertram. I did not know.
Miss Crawford has been telling me why they're here. My dear, they're not here for the view.
The fact is, she cannot possibly go back to the London house with her stepfather.
A week ago, the Admiral installed his mistress under his own family roof.
Well, I'm not at all surprised.
Well, I have the highest regard for the navy, but, well, one has only to think of Lord Nelson.
I rather think Julia's ready to be fallen in love with.
I like your Miss Bertrams exceedingly.
They give themselves no airs.
No. Their vanity is in such good order they seem quite free of it.
Last year's style, of course, but they're not hurt by what they don't know.
And you like Julia best?
Oh, yes.
You know when we arrived, I mistook little Miss Price for a servant. I gave her my hat.
Do you really like Julia best?
Maria is generally thought the handsomer.
So I should suppose.
Poor Julia couldn't choose her nose.
And, if she could, I doubt her taste would improve on it...
...but she is charming.
The sisters are different, but equally charming.
- They are. - And charmed.
I think you might have popped them both under your arm and run off with them.
Both?
Either.
Fanny, what's your opinion of Miss Crawford?
She has every virtue, a fortune and a pretty face.
She does. And?
I've got a stone in my shoe.
But, Edmund, does she truly hate to pray?
Does she really believe everything can be got with money?
I think Miss Crawford talks to amuse, rather than anything else.
And, Fanny, are you riding tomorrow?
Yes.
Then I'll have the mare saddled up half an hour early.
Miss Crawford wants to learn and Jenny is much our quietest horse.
You won't be inconvenienced, I'll make sure we're no more than half an hour.
So you are to be a clergyman?
- I am, yes. - I'm surprised.
Come, do change your mind.
You really are fit for something better.
It's not too late. You could go into the law.
Go into the law?
With as much ease as I might go for a ride?
Well, usually, there's an uncle or a grandfather to leave a fortune to the second son.
An admirable practice, but I'm an exception and must shift for myself.
Besides, even with a fortune, I would make the same choice.
But men like to distinguish themselves, don't they?
You might be a soldier, or a sailor.
I might.
But I am not.
- You're a natural rider, Miss Crawford. - Well, I have a very good teacher.
- Fanny, we're late. I'm so sorry. - Really, it's of no importance.
Oh, I'm sure it is. I do apologize.
Your cousin and I had so much to talk about, we quite forgot you.
But selfishness must always be forgiven, you know,
because there's never any hope of a cure.
It was only a little play. Lovers' Vows. We were just putting it on for a few friends.
We were well into rehearsals. It would all have gone brilliantly,
when the Dowager Duchess died and our scheme was destroyed.
Good gracious.
It's not worth complaining about, of course.
Still, the poor old lady could not have chosen a worse time.
If only the news could've been suppressed for the three days we needed...
Well, she was a grandmother after all, and she did die 100 miles off.
I'm sure you're very much to be pitied, my dear.
But all is well, ma'am, for now Mr. Bertram is to take the Baron,
and I am to be Count Cassel, ma'am,
and come in three times and have two and 40 speeches, which is no trifle.
Ah, Miss Crawford...
- Delighted. - Mr. Bertram.
What do you say, Edmund? Small, dark and bright. We have our Amelia.
I'm engaged and dismissed in one breath.
It's been a great while since I trod the boards.
Today I feel as if I could be anything and everything.
I am of some use, I hope, in preventing any unnecessary expense.
Come, Fanny. It is a shocking trick for a young person to always be lolling upon a sofa.
You really must learn to think of other people.
I'll never have these curtains finished in time for the performance.
You're not seriously putting on the play here?
Well, certainly we are. Why not?
Look, it's a slight piece, I know, but...
Do you think this is too modern?
Where's Mr. Crawford? I want his opinion.
For one thing, we know Father's on the return journey now and in constant danger.
- For another... - Yes.
And if we can keep my mother's spirits up, I shall think our time well spent.
It's a very anxious time for her.
What is it? What?
I was not asleep.
For another, you have asked Maria to play the mother of an illegitimate child.
Do not act in anything improper, my dear.
Sir Thomas would not like it.
Father wouldn't like his grown-up daughters to be acting.
I know my father as well as you do.
Don't imagine no-one can see or judge but you.
Perhaps Edmund doesn't realize how much I'm relying on him.
You see, I'm to be Amelia, but there's no-one for Anhalt, my tutor.
If anyone should play it, it's you. He is a clergyman, you know.
Then I'd be sorry to make him ridiculous with bad acting.
We can manage perfectly well without you. There's no need for you to take part.
- I have no intention of taking part. - Only don't expect to govern everyone else.
No doubt you will decide in time.
When you do, pray let me know which of you gentlemen I have the pleasure of making love to.
You have willfully ignored my request.
I asked you to raise this curtain by an inch. Come down here.
Come down here. Such insolence!
He who forms my mind...
That he who forms my mind...
- Do you mind not taking part, Fanny? - No.
Besides, your father would not approve and I can't afford to displease him.
Do stand still, Julia.
Do I not look every inch the tyrannical father?
Fanny, I want your opinion.
- Yes? - Edmund!
This acting scheme gets worse and worse.
They're going to ask an outsider, a complete stranger, to play Anhalt.
Well, what can you do? Tom's so determined.
There's only one thing.
I must play Anhalt myself.
Well? Can you think of an alternative?
You said nothing would induce you.
I know. Do you imagine I like being driven to be so inconsistent?
But it can't be right to let Tom go trawling the countryside for anyone who can be persuaded.
No, it can't.
Then give me your blessing, Fanny.
If you're not with me, I mistrust my own judgment.
I do see it's not right for Miss Crawford to act with a stranger.
Right. You're right. She must be spared.
Dear Fanny, I couldn't be easy until I'd spoken to you.
Psst! Maria!
Are we not made for one another?
Tonight I can be only one thing, Maria.
Tonight I am your lover, or I am nothing.
Do you think it's too short?
Let me ask Henry.
Ooh!
Why blush, dear girl? Pray tell me why. You need not. I can prove it.
For though your garter met my eye, my thoughts were far above it.
I say, steady on there, Rushworth.
He is still acting, isn't he?
You cannot refuse me.
I must at long last hold you to my heart.
Now you've made me mistake my lines, Mr. Crawford.
Then, we must rehearse again until you choose to remember them.
Get Maria in shape will you, Henry? Or we'll never be ready.
My pleasure, sir.
Now what have you done, Fanny? If all you can do is make mischief, we're better off without you.
To see such a short, mean-looking man set up for a fine actor is ridiculous.
Here.
Would you like me to hear you, Mr. Rushworth?
Oh, yes. If you'd be so kind.
What does the Baron accuse me of? Nothing he himself is not guilty of.
- But I shall make short work... - No, no. Er... light.
What does the Baron accuse me of?
We can't put it off any longer, Miss Crawford.
And really, you haven't so very much to fear.
It is only me.
Perhaps we could find a private corner.
You see how it is, Miss Price. I cannot for the life of me remember it.
You have the first line perfectly, Mr. Rushworth.
But, Miss Price, I have two and 40 of them.
When Julia speaks, I cannot recognize my cue.
Miss Price?
I do not wish to blame you, yet I can hardly call it ladylike of you
to visit me here, alone, at night.
Mr. dear Mr. Anhalt, allow me to speak my heart, to tell you that I love you.
That I have loved you since first I set eyes on you.
The er... stage directions say,
"Amelia takes Anhalt by the hand and looks into his face."
Ah, Fanny. Excellent.
Julia won't do it.
Come on. This is your big moment.
You are to be the cottager's wife.
Me? No. I cannot play a part.
- Yes, yes. You can do it well enough for us. - You mustn't let us down, Fanny.
When do we ever ask anything of you?
You cannot be so ungrateful as to not do your cousin's wish.
Yes, do help us out, Fanny.
You'll soon get the hang of it, Miss Price.
Now...
We'll try the moment when you interrupt my scene with Agatha.
You'll find us very well rehearsed.
We've been hard at it, practicing by ourselves.
If you imagine, sir, I can be shamed into a confession, yours is a... a vain conceit.
Your accusations are enough to make my blood boil.
Father.
When you arrived, sir, we were going through the first three acts.
Not unsuccessfully, upon the whole.
How dare Henry go like that, laughing, and not a word to me!
My dear girl, a man like Henry isn't so easily roped.
Don't suppose I was the one doing the chasing.
We had hoped, sir, to beg your indulgence...
...as inexperienced players.
My indulgence shall be given, but without the play acting.
Do you find Mr. and Miss Crawford agreeable acquaintances?
Indeed.
Mr. Crawford is very pleasant and Miss Crawford is... a lively, pretty girl.
I do not say he's not a gentleman... considering.
As your father cannot fail to have noticed, he's too short to be considered a well-looking man.
Father, you've not told us the outcome of your stay in Antigua.
I'm happy to say our affairs in Antigua do now prosper.
I hope you won't mind my asking, sir, but now that you've lived amongst it,
do you believe slavery can continue in the same way?
Our little cousin is a friend to abolition.
I think, my dear, we may very well do without slavery.
But without order, we are lost.
You must excuse me.
I am unwell.
Since I've been home, it has occurred to me that Mr. Rushworth...
was perhaps accepted on too short an acquaintance.
I'm well aware what an advantageous alliance it would be for you and for the family.
But you must not sacrifice your happiness to it.
Marriage is a serious undertaking.
You have no particular reason to repent your engagement.
Over dinner I wondered if, perhaps, some new acquaintance had made you regret it.
Not at all.
If it is your wish, I may still act to release you.
It's not too late.
You must be perfectly open and sincere with me.
I thank you, sir, for your most generous attention,
but I assure you, you are mistaken.
I have the highest regard for Mr. Rushworth's character and disposition.
I am honored by his status and his fortune.
What more could I wish for?
Oh, how wonderful.
Congratulations. Bravo.
- Congratulations. - Well done.
It is my greatest glory, Miss Crawford, to take a little of the credit
for bringing the admiration of Mr. Rushworth for our dearest angel Maria into effect.
Thank you, Edmund.
Maria.
You must write to me every day from London and tell me all about it.
- Goodbye. - Goodbye.
- Walk on! - Have a safe journey.
- Look after your sister, Julia. - I'll write from London.
Weddings are such a bore.
Thank God the racing season's started, so I can escape.
Even Father wouldn't insist I'm here through Cheltenham.
I need another drink.
You sighed, Miss Crawford.
Waving goodbye to your sister has made me wonder
what there is to keep me at Mansfield.
Will you not stay for my sake?
I confess, I can imagine it being pleasant enough to spend half the year at Mansfield,
but... in a country cottage, no.
Might you not feel differently in time?
You think I should be the one to change?
I doubt it, Mr. Bertram.
I'm stubborn, you know.
And I always get my way in the end.
Miss Price?
- I am come to visit the scene of the crime. - Shhh!
I shall always look back on our theatricals with such pleasure.
We were alive. I was never happier.
Don't you think we're unlucky, Miss Price?
Don't you think fate might have indulged us with another week?
No, I don't.
I think everyone indulged themselves enough.
Well, that was a very proper wedding.
The bride was beautiful.
The bridesmaids suitably inferior.
Mm.
- Mary? - Mm?
How was young Bertram? I scarcely spoke a word to him all day.
Edmund is as ever Edmund was. Determined on obscurity.
He will not change his mind. He's soon to be ordained.
His living will be 700 a year.
Oh, well, I'm glad he'll be so well off.
A very pretty income to make ducks and drakes with.
You would look rather blank, if you were limited to 700 a year.
- Perhaps, but all that is comparative. - Exactly.
And then... until we came here,
I never imagined a country cottage could have so much the air of a gentleman's residence.
In fact... I've made up my mind to stay longer.
Henry, what are you up to?
I fancy having Miss Price fall in love with me.
Fanny? Oh, what nonsense.
Haven't you noticed the wonderful improvement in her looks?
The truth is there's no-one else for you to notice and you have to have someone.
Well...
Perhaps a little bit of love might do her good.
She's very sweet and I will not have you make her unhappy.
Really, I couldn't bear it if you were to turn out like our stepfather.
All I'm asking...
...is to make a small hole in Fanny Price's heart.
William!
Fanny!
My dear sister.
I chose it for you in Sicily.
Thank you.
Oh, William, you can't imagine how much I've missed you.
Have you? But you are happy in Mansfield aren't you, Fanny?
- They are kind to you? - Yes, they are kind.
And, of course, I love them all as I should...
...but my only real friend is Edmund.
Edmund? Yes.
In your letters, you spoke so often of Edmund, I was quite jealous.
- I thought he'd taken my place. - No-one could ever do that.
Besides, what I feel for Edmund is...
It's different.
He isn't my brother.
Just off Trieste, we chased the enemy sail until we were close enough to fire on her,
at which she returned our salute with a broadside that came scouring along the decks,
tore through the foresail, made a large dent in a brass gun, rebounded away into the open sea.
- Good heavens! - Amazing.
Luckily, we were all on the contrary side, or it would have killed and wounded a good many.
Dear me. How very disagreeable. I wonder anyone can ever go to sea.
I couldn't feel more differently.
Listening to Mr. Price, I envy him every danger.
To have gone through such hardships...
And the glory of such heroism puts me to shame.
There is nothing heroic about what I do, Mr. Crawford.
I'm just an ordinary midshipman.
It's still a remarkable thing, to have given such proof of character so young.
I do wish to distinguish myself, sir, but the truth is I have no commission as yet.
Sometimes I think I'll never be made lieutenant.
- Ah, William. - Good morning, sir.
How are you enjoying your stay at Mansfield Park, young man?
Very much indeed, sir, but I only have two days left, and tomorrow is Fanny's birthday.
Of course.
Well, then we must celebrate.
I have not seen Fanny dance since she was a little girl.
What say we throw our niece a ball before her brother goes back to sea?
It's high time she came out.
- Surely not. - Must I?
Indeed you must. It's your birthday.
Then may I not have my own way?
No, my dear, you may not, because it is your day, it is your duty to consider everyone else.
We need only make a small party.
But may I not choose the occasion?
I should like it to be the same as the last birthday I had with William.
A picnic.
A picnic?
I see nothing against that.
Thank you, Sir Thomas.
A picnic indeed.
A picnic for half the county.
The nonsense and folly of people stepping out of their rank.
Now that you are to move into company, Fanny, you must never forget,
whatever the occasion, you must always be the lowest, the last.
Oh, I shall never forget that.
Unless, of course, I'm enjoying myself too much to remember.
I thought it might look well with William's cross.
This is beautiful.
- How can I ever thank you? - Oh... by accepting it for what it is.
A token of love from one of your oldest friends.
What can I do? Miss Crawford has also sent me a necklace.
Miss Crawford has given you a necklace?
Then, my dear, Fanny, you must wear it.
Well, I don't want to.
And anyway, yours is far more suited to my cross.
How extraordinary that she and I should have had the same thought.
She shows her affection for you, whereas to me, she um...
...she seems determined to torment me.
I'm sure she doesn't mean half the things she says, but...
you know the kind of life Mary wants.
Hectic.
Fashionable life in London.
Could I ever live as she wants?
Well, what about the life you want to live?
Haven't you always said that being a clergyman isn't about having a comfortable parish,
or even preaching a good sermon,
it's about living a good life?
Yes.
And so it is.
But enough of my problems.
Tomorrow is your day.
Then you must indulge me, Edmund.
See it first as I prefer.
There.
It could not look better.
One... two... three. Off you go!
- It's Mary. Miss Crawford. - You are mistaken, Mr. Bertram.
Erm...
I cannot guess.
It's Fanny.
Well, I should have known you, Miss Price. May I?
One, two, three.
James... it must be James.
Well done! Quite entertaining.
Dear Fanny, with your cousins gone, you are quite the center of attention.
I think I prefer being overlooked.
Oh, no, you must learn to enjoy it.
It serves no purpose to blush unseen. Not that you do.
Did you know that Henry's taking William to London tomorrow?
- No. - He is.
They're going to dine with our stepfather, the Admiral.
I've never seen my brother take so much trouble over anyone before.
Miss Price, might I engage you for this dance?
I've asked the musician to give us Portsmouth.
It's your place to open the dancing, my dear.
Please, sir. Must I?
It's your day, Fanny.
Back to your places.
What a pity this is the last time I shall dance with you, Mr. Bertram.
Why is that?
Because the next time we meet, you shall be a clergyman.
Yes, I go to York tomorrow.
I've never yet danced with a clergyman and I never will.
You are especially playful this afternoon, Miss Crawford.
You think if you shake me hard enough, something serious will drop out,
but I assure you, I am profoundly shallow.
A large income is the best recipe I ever heard of for happiness.
Then your happiness is forever beyond my power.
Come, Mr. Bertram. It's not too late. Do change your mind.
For me?
Here you are.
My uncle has advised me to go to bed.
I'm sure you've never been up so late in your life.
I am worn out with civility.
Talking all evening with nothing to say.
Look, Edmund.
How lovely it is.
Yes.
And how lovely you are tonight, Fanny.
You've always disliked praise, the way other women dislike neglect,
but tonight I think you don't mind being told you've grown up into a pretty woman.
It must be Henry's doing. Don't think I didn't notice how much you enjoyed dancing with him.
Yes. I've been obliged to enjoy myself quite shockingly.
There's Arcturus, looking very bright.
It's been a great while since we did any stargazing.
I don't know how it's happened but... yes, it is a very great while.
I will be back soon.
At last, a letter from Mrs. Rushworth.
- From Maria. Our darling Maria. - Oh.
My dear?
My dearest Mama. Last night, I gave my first party.
It was a sensation.
I cannot tell you, Mama, how very tippy it is to be queen of the fashionable world.
I have everything my heart desires and my comfort as a wife is complete.
Mr. Rushworth is presently in Bath visiting his mother.
And he sh...
Here is something I can't quite read.
Mr. Rushworth is in Bath? Maria is alone in London. Edmund is ordained.
Tom's absence, I'm resigned to, but I wish they would not all leave us.
I'm glad we took Fanny in as we did.
Now the others are away, we feel the good of it
and it is such a comfort to know we shall always have her.
Excuse me, miss, but Sir Thomas would like to see you.
Surely Sir Thomas has asked to see me, not Fanny?
No, madam. Sir Thomas asked for Miss Price.
He is made. I have the infinite satisfaction of congratulating you on your brother's promotion.
Your brother is a lieutenant.
Here are the letters that confirm it. Would you like to see them?
Yes.
And has all this been your doing?
Good heavens. Was it at your request?
I am astonished.
Well, I went to London, so as to introduce your brother to my stepfather.
Yes, that was very kind of you.
I wanted the Admiral to exert whatever influence he might have for getting him on.
That was my purpose. My chief purpose.
Although I confess...
- Miss Price. - You are so generous.
We are infinitely obliged to you, Mr. Crawford.
- I must go to my aunt immediately. - Please.
Please.
You must allow me to say what I feel, Miss Price.
Feelings that... you cannot have been completely unaware of.
I beg you, Mr. Crawford. Pray don't...
At first, I saw only your sweetness. Your grace.
- Your beauty. - No, this talk, it...
- Really, I cannot bear it. - Because you think I'm only playing?
I love you with all my heart.
I shall never, never cease loving you.
I give you myself.
My hand. My fortune.
Are we not made for one another? Tell me.
You must tell me you feel something for me in return.
No. No.
I can't believe a word you say.
I've seen you do all this before.
Am I to understand that you mean to refuse Mr. Crawford?
Yes, sir.
What is your reason?
I cannot like him well enough to marry him.
Here is a man with everything to recommend him.
I'm half inclined to think, Fanny, that you do not know your own feelings.
No, but I do, sir.
As soon as I was aware of them, I disliked Mr. Crawford's attentions.
Did you indeed?
You're so young, you've scarcely met anyone.
It's surely not possible that your affections are already...?
No. No, you think only of yourself.
The advantage to your family - to William - holds no weight with you.
I am very disappointed in you.
You show yourself very, very different from what I had imagined.
You are by no means free of that...
that self-regard which, in a young woman, is disagreeable beyond all else.
Must I remind you that the luxury to pick and choose is beyond your means?
You may live another 18 years in the world
before being addressed by a man of half Mr. Crawford's estate and character.
I do not claim that you owe me the duty of a daughter,
- but if your heart can acquit you of ingratitude... - I'm very sorry to make you angry, sir.
But I know I could never make him happy.
And I'd be miserable myself.
Now child...
...dry up your tears.
As you know, Mr. Crawford is soon to leave Mansfield.
He has but a short time to convince you that you might not be so very miserable after all.
The moon shines bright in such a night as this,
When the sweet wind did gently kiss the trees.
And they did make no noise, in such a night Troilus methinks mounted the Trojan walls
And sighed his soul towards the Grecian tents...
...where Cressid lay that night.
Oh, so very well read, really.
It was like being at a play, was it not, Sir Thomas?
Indeed, the play must be a favorite of yours.
Well, after tonight, sir, it will be.
But to tell the truth, I like an audience.
Did you speak?
No.
I don't think you've told Miss Price anything she does not know, Henry.
Miss Crawford, will you join us for cards?
- Why don't I deal? - Yes, you deal.
I've often resolved to make good my neglect of Shakespeare.
But it would take regular study and I am not constant in my habits.
- What did that shake of the head mean? - Nothing.
You shook your head when I said I am not constant.
Perhaps I thought it a pity you don't always know yourself as well as you did in that moment.
- You have spoken. - Hardly to please you.
But it does please me.
If I don't understand your opinion of me, then how can I improve on it?
You know I'm going back to London.
And you expect by the end of the week I shall have forgotten you.
Believe me, you're quite wrong.
You are cold.
I intend to be quiet.
Four for you.
- Fanny. - There. My game.
Oh, very well read.
Well done.
My dear Miss Price.
Now the moment has come, I hate to leave Mansfield.
Good, gentle Fanny.
I don't know how it is,
but you have so much more heart than one usually finds in the world at large.
And, I confess, I would like to have seen Edmund once more.
Ordained or no.
There were things I said to Edmund that I wish unsaid with all my heart.
- Would you tell him so, Fanny, from me? - Me?
No, you must not leave me with such an errand, Miss Crawford.
Well, at least you will give him my compliments, I hope.
Is there not a word missing in our language, Miss Price?
Something between compliments and love?
Edmund, how was the ordination?
It was all absolutely splendid. Thank you.
Baddeley told me you had something of great import to discuss.
I have an unusual request to make to you.
The Reverend Bertram.
How well it sounds.
Congratulations.
Thank you.
You stayed away so long, I thought you were never coming back.
Did Sir Thomas send for you?
No. The reason I stayed away so long was to avoid Mary...
...only to run into the Crawfords just as they were quitting the village.
You know, if I hadn't, I might never have seen Mary again.
I'd quite decided to forget her during the whole torturous business.
But seeing her just now... Her manner to me was so very sweet.
Her... words so simple. Her looks...
I cannot give her up.
She's the only woman in the world whom I can ever think of as my wife.
She's invited me to visit her in London.
And I must waste no time in doing so quickly,
before the habits of wealth and fashion scupper my chances.
So now I am to go away again.
I'm sorry, Fanny.
I promise I'll write as soon as I have any news.
And, anyway, I gather it's you I have to thank for their delayed departure.
Fanny?
What can I say? I'm sure we'll think very differently.
It's true, I think Crawford's proposal a highly desirable one...
...if you can return his affection but, Fanny, if you can't, of course you mustn't accept him.
- I was afraid you'd blame me. - Blame you?
Your conduct has been faultless.
But I can see you might wish to love him.
The natural wish of gratitude, if nothing else.
And, you know, my father thought he detected some little thaw in your feelings.
No, he was mistaken. I promise you, he was mistaken.
Oh, well.
Nothing Edmund could say had any influence over her.
She will not have him.
I'm not surprised.
There's something about Fanny I've often observed.
She does not like to be dictated to.
Fanny is very young.
A period of reflection maybe all that's required to bring Fanny
to a more sober appreciation of Mr. Crawford's offer.
I propose we leave Fanny behind when we visit your mother.
It will involve a small sacrifice on your part, my dear.
For three weeks?
But I presume on your goodness to allow it.
Of course, if Fanny were to marry Mr. Crawford, I should not dream of missing her,
never mind the loss to me.
And I tell you what, if she does, and this is more than I did for Maria,
next time Pug has a litter, I shall give her one of the puppies.
My dear cousin...
Dearest Edmund...
Perhaps it is because of my present solitude that I cannot stop thinking of our last meeting.
And I so wish...
I wish...
I did not mean to say you should not hope.
Life without hope is intolerable
and even I, in my secret heart...
...dare hope that...
Forgive me for calling like this, unannounced, but I had such a desire to see you.
And here you are.
You are tired, Mr. Crawford.
Oh. I have been too much in society.
And I too little.
Then we are equally in character, Miss Price.
Shall we walk?
Have you news from London, Mr. Crawford?
Nothing of any interest.
No war. No fire.
No revolution.
But Maria and Julia are tireless followers of fashion.
And even Edmund has dined several times at Maria's
where, as you may know, my sister is living at present.
Mary's appetite for society remains undimmed.
And Tom?
We see no more of Tom than you do.
The last I heard, he was at Newmarket,
continuing his giddy career of drinking and gambling.
Whereas I...
Mansfield has spoiled me for anywhere else.
Or perhaps, living with this all the time, you no longer see its beauty.
But to me, on a day like this...
...it is an uncommonly lovely sight.
Oh, I think so too.
I can imagine nowhere lovelier than Mansfield Park.
You see, I hadn't forgotten about you, Fanny.
Not for a moment.
I've been thinking of you constantly.
Have I not proved myself?
I just don't know how to answer you.
No, you know how to answer me.
Just give me some sign, Fanny, no matter how small.
Tell me I may look forward to being happy.
Help me, Fanny.
Guide me.
I can't guide you.
We all have our best guides within us...
...if only we would listen.
Well, leave me to my own judgment, then,
but my better self, as you well know...
...is in your keeping.
Please be gentle with him.
Carefully, now.
Poor Tom.
- Tom, my dearest boy. - Get him inside and straight up to his room.
Gently. Gently.
Careful.
Thank God we have you, Fanny.
Go to my mother. She needs you.
Tom is extremely ill.
Oh, Fanny.
Dear Fanny.
Now I shall be comforted.
He had been drinking a good deal, Fanny.
But, after he fell, he neglected himself
until he brought on such a fever that he hardly knew who or where he was.
Finally, his physician insisted on calling us to him. And now...
They... fear for his lungs...
I'm... I am so very, very frightened, Fanny.
I'm sure I daren't go near him. With my weak chest, it could prove fatal.
I'm sure we have more reason to hope than to fear.
Dear Fanny, pray God you are right.
But now...
I am guided by Sir Thomas in everything.
But can it be right for him to go away again at such a time?
Sir Thomas is leaving us... now?
Fanny.
Yes, Uncle?
Come in a moment.
Are you unwell, sir?
No, no, I'm not unwell.
But certain...
...business affairs take me to London.
Edmund knows I'm going, but not why, and I will not add to my wife's unhappiness,
unless it becomes absolutely necessary to do so.
I rely on you, Fanny, to take care of her.
I may be disappointed elsewhere...
...but in you, my dear, I'm blessed.
As for Tom, we can only hope and pray.
My first task is to bring the patient's temperature down.
Once... these little handmaidens have done their work, we may be more optimistic.
You saw Miss Crawford in London?
Yes, every day.
But not once alone.
She was in a pack all the time.
She danced a great deal.
She spoke a great deal.
Said nothing sensible or even kind.
She was, I suppose, her London self.
Like a stranger with whom I had to argue every little point.
Can I do anything?
Let Fanny read to me.
You're bored with me, are you?
I could do with a pretty face to look at.
Our patient is improving.
- Let me guess: The Racing News? - Every word.
And no objections, please.
I warn you, Fanny, the illness has brought out Tom's true nature in all its wonderful ugliness.
He is a tyrant.
Well, I shan't let him tyrannize me.
We'll see about that. You'll give way.
You're too kind to quarrel.
You should not rely on it, cousin.
Fanny is the best girl alive.
It's 4-1 on Little Scott.
And Remnant beat Swallow by two lengths in the second meeting at Newmarket on Monday.
3-1 on Robinson...
Ah, my dear. Yes... Where's Edmund?
- In the breakfast room, sir. - With your aunt?
Yes.
I shall be with you in a moment.
Thank you.
These are sad circumstances in which to meet again, Miss Price.
It surprises me that Tom's sisters are happy to stay in London but you are here...
...and I will do anything I can to help and comfort.
Poor young man.
If he were to be cut off now, in the flower of his days, it would be most tragic.
None of us are troubling to be quite so pessimistic, Miss Crawford.
I am justly reprimanded but, pray, don't misunderstand me.
By my honor, I never bribed a physician in my life.
However, should Tom die...
...then wealth and consequence could fall into no hands more deserving of them.
Is Edmund home?
Am I come too late?
I need to talk to you all. Miss Crawford, this concerns you too.
My dear, I have to ask you to be brave. I'm very sorry for it.
Julia...?
Julia is safe with our cousins at Richmond.
Last week, I received a letter from an old friend in London.
It contained a good deal to concern me about our daughter Maria.
I had no choice but to act immediately.
I went to town in the faint hope that my informant might be mistaken
or, failing that, that I might at least reverse a desperate situation.
I need hardly say that I have been disappointed.
Maria has left her home and her husband.
Oh, no.
No.
- No, this cannot be. - Flagrantly, publicly...
in utter contempt for her family's honor.
In a complete disregard for each and every one of us...
...she has run away with Mr. Crawford.
I'm become aware of my errors too late.
I had hoped my daughters would grow up to be good...
...but I succeeded only in them being good mannered.
I knew my daughter... no more than a stranger.
A woman whose shoulder I might brush against
without any inkling of her fears, hopes or passions.
And now it's too late.
Her character is destroyed.
Did you notice nothing at the time?
Were they so very discreet?
Discreet? If only they had been. One ounce of common discretion would have saved us.
Saved us?
You don't think Henry set out to destroy the Rushworths' marriage?
I don't mean to defend Henry at your sister's expense, but I could knock their heads together.
I never imagined that they would really do it.
And I'm sure we both thought Maria knew she'd had her penny's worth,
to use the vulgar phrase, and would be content.
For one moment's stupidity, Maria has thrown away everything she gained by her marriage.
Is that all you have to say?
Please don't think that I've forgotten Fanny.
But foolish girl!
If Fanny had accepted him, they might now even be married.
And Henry's relationship with Mrs. Rushworth would be no more than a harmless flirtation...
Enough! You've said enough.
Forgive me, but I have not yet made my point.
Edmund, I beg you.
Advise your father not to interfere.
My father should collude in this business in the hope that Henry will marry Maria?
Well, think, Edmund, think. Maria would recover some footing in society.
Not all, of course, but...
...should the worst happen with your brother, then we, I mean you and I, Edmund,
would be in a position to help Maria and accept her back here at Mansfield.
I cannot believe what I'm hearing.
Have you no sense of what this means?
All you see is folly.
A little embarrassment we can overcome, if only we're sensible and think straight for five minutes.
Society will forgive us! What do I care about society?
My father's shame will last forever.
And my mother's grief and I...
The woman I thought I loved doesn't exist.
She was a... a figment of my imagination.
So much the better, you may say. I have less to lose.
But I'd have lost you a thousand times rather than see you for what you really are.
A pretty lecture, I must say.
Will it be one of your sermons?
Love is supposed to endure disappointment, is it not?
Or so I am told.
Goodbye, Miss Crawford.
I wish you well with all my heart.
Edmund!
Sweet stream that winds through yonder glade,
Apt emblem of a virtuous maid.
Silent and chaste she steals along,
Far from the world's gay busy throng.
With gentle yet prevailing...
Edmund.
How I was deceived.
How I deceived myself.
This is all your doing.
You think of nothing and no-one but yourself.
If you'd have accepted Mr. Crawford, none of this would have happened.
Maria's letter shows her to be deeply unhappy, Sir Thomas.
So unhappy... I cannot but hope that if you were to go to her,
she might be persuaded to leave Mr. Crawford and return home.
Mr. Rushworth would not have her, ma'am.
I mean to say she might return here.
That, I fear, is impossible.
As a daughter, Maria may count on me always, to secure her comfort and protection.
Further than that, I cannot go.
Even her mother doesn't express...
You mean...
...Maria is to be sacrificed for the sake of Fanny's niceness?
I mean nothing of the sort.
If you feel it is your duty, Mrs. Norris,
to be Maria's companion in her grievous situation...
...then you may feel free to go.
Poor Maria.
I don't know who I feel more sorry for - Maria or Aunt Norris.
That's better.
A frown doesn't suit you.
Fanny! Fanny, my dear, where are you? I need you!
Which should I use here, Fanny?
- The purple wool or the maroon? - The purple, Aunt.
Damn it if Fennimore didn't come in last again at Newmarket.
- It's only me. - Edmund, come in.
Oh, er... sorry.
- I didn't realize... - No, no, really. Come in.
I only wanted to say...
What was it I wanted to say?
It wasn't about us going riding tomorrow, was it?
Yes. That was it. I... That was it. I just er...
I wanted to be sure you hadn't forgotten.
- I hadn't. - Good.
I'm glad.
And now, Edmund, I really must go to bed.
Yes, of course. Sorry.
Well, then...
Good night, Fanny.
Good night, Edmund.
You know...
...I've always loved...
...this room.
Fanny, I really do need to talk to you.
Um... Fanny, my dear... I've quite run out of lavender.
Pick some, won't you, before the sun gets too hot?
Yes, Aunt, of course.
And, Edmund, find the scissors and go with her.
- Yes of course. - Edmund...
If you remember, I need you to come into town with me this morning.
- I have several affairs that need... - Not this morning, Sir Thomas.
I'm sure your business can wait.
Edmund!
Fanny.
Your father...
It was nothing.
Lavender.
I love you.
I was blind. Forgive me.
Look, Sir Thomas.
Now perhaps Edmund will at last think to ask Fanny to marry him.
Ask Fanny to marry him?
But surely...?
Oh, my dear. Fanny has been in love with Edmund since she was a little girl.
How is it the poet describes a wife, Sir Thomas?
She's heaven's last best gift, my dear.
- Hussar! - Hooray!
- Hussar! - Congratulations!
Hussar!
Congratulations! Blessings on you!
Edmund and Fanny have learned a new dance.
Is it possible to be so happy?
Yes.
Let's make it our business, Mrs. Bertram, to be happy ever after.
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