Surprise, consciousness, and pleasure appeared in each of the three on this unexpected meeting; as Edmund was come on the very same business that had brought Miss Crawford. He too had his book, and was seeking Fanny, to ask her to rehearse with him, without knowing Miss Crawford to be in the house; and great was the joy and animation of being thus thrown together.

She could not equal them in their warmth. Her spirits sank under the glow of theirs, and Fanny felt herself becoming too nearly nothing. And now, she could not even warn Edmund of the danger that Miss Crawford represented. They must now rehearse together.

Edmund insisted it, till the quite willing lady could refuse no longer. Fanny was expected only to prompt and observe them—judge and critic, and, unknown to Edmund, a secret protector. For, more than once, Fanny noted how Miss Crawford subtly used her nuances of gaze and voice to nigh-mesmerize Edmund in the midst of his declamations. And each time it happened, Fanny was there, to make a small noise, a shuffle of pages, a clearing of her throat—which served to return him to awareness. It was so perfectly timed that even Miss Crawford began to notice that she was being obstructed from her mysterious dark intents.

Miss Crawford turned then, at last, and trained the full force of her intense basilisk gaze upon Fanny.

It was unclear as to what results she was expecting, but in response, Fanny merely blinked, and then inquired very politely—and very much in control of her faculties—“Miss Crawford? Is there something you require? Is anything wrong?”

Miss Crawford only continued to stare at her, periodically narrowing and widening her eyes, all without blinking, and Fanny began to sense a great gathering of cold in the room all around them, a buildup of pressing darkness. Poor Edmund, meanwhile, had gone into a definite daze, and was motionless.

“Miss Crawford?” repeated Fanny, not sure what else to do at that point, short of continuing to pretend ignorance. “Miss Crawford, you appear to have a facial tick.”

Miss Crawford finally gave up the stare and in arch annoyance lifted one brow. “Miss Price,” she said. “My dear Fanny Price, I want you to rise from your seat. Get up, Fanny, and dance a reel for me.”

“Beg pardon?” said Fanny, allowing one of her own brows to rise.

Miss Crawford’s lips parted in surprise. She then leaned forward in Fanny’s direction and redoubled her stare. “Look into my eyes, Miss Price!” she uttered in a decidedly commanding tone of voice.

“Miss Crawford, I am looking into your eyes, as you say,” replied Fanny, in an unexpectedly calm manner. “And indeed, they are quite lovely. But—whatever do you mean that I dance a reel? I am certainly at a loss, and unsure of your meaning, Miss Crawford—is there a reel required in this scene of Lovers’ Vows?”