Seeing that her companion was most interested to observe the effect of such a remark, Mary contented herself with a smile. Miss Price, however, seemed determined to continue their conversation, and after making a number of disdainful enquiries as to the cost of Mary’s gown, and the make of her shoes, she continued gaily, ‘You will think me most impertinent to question you in this way, Miss Crawford, but living in this rustic seclusion, I so rarely have the opportunity of making new acquaintance, especially with young women who are accustomed to the manners and amusements of London—or at least such entertainments as the public assemblies can offer.’
At this she gave Mary a look, which meant, ‘A public ball is quite good enough for you.’ Mary smiled. ‘In my experience, private balls are much pleasanter than public ones. Most public balls suffer from two insurmountable disadvantages—a want of chairs, and a scarcity of men, and as often as not, a still greater scarcity of any that are good for much.’
‘But that is exactly my own feeling on the subject! The company one meets at private balls is always so much more agreeable.’
‘As to that,’ replied Mary, ‘I confess I do not want people to be very agreeable, as it saves me the trouble of liking them a great deal.’
She hazarded a side glance at her companion at this, wondering whether she was as accustomed to being treated with contempt, as she was to dispensing it, but Miss Price seemed serenely unaware that such a remark could possibly refer to her.
‘Oh! My dear Miss Crawford,’ she said, ‘with so much to unite us, would it not be delightful to become better acquainted?’
To be better acquainted, Mary soon found, was to be her lot, whatever her own views on the matter. This was the origin of the second intimacy Mary was to enjoy at Mansfield, one that had little reality in the feelings of either party, and appeared to result principally from Miss Price’s desire to communicate her own far superior claims on Edmund, and teach Mary to avoid him.
The weather remained fine, and Mary’s rides continued. The season, the scene, the air, were all delightful, and as the days passed Mr Norris began to be agreeable to her. It was without any change in his manner—he remained as quiet and reserved as ever—but she found nonetheless that she liked to have him near her. Had she thought about it more, she might have concluded that the anxiety and confusion she had endured since her uncle’s death had made her particularly susceptible to the charms of placidity and steadiness; but for reasons best known to herself, Mary did not think very much about it. She had by no means forgotten Miss Price’s insinuations, and could not fail to notice Mrs Norris’s rather more pointed remarks; and in the privacy of the parsonage her brother continued to ridicule Edmund as both stuffy and conceited. He began a small collection of his more pompous remarks, which he noted down in the back of his pocket-book, and performed for his sisters with high glee, mimicking his victim’s rather prosing manner to absolute perfection. Perhaps Mary should have apprehended some thing of her own feelings from the growing disquiet she felt at this continued raillery, but unwelcome as it was, she chose rather to censure Henry’s lack of manners, than her own lack of prudence.
Mary rode every morning, and in the afternoons she sauntered about with Julia Bertram in the Mansfield woods, or—rather more reluctantly—walked with Miss Price in Mrs Grant’s garden.
‘Every time I come into this shrubbery I am more struck with how much has been made of such unpromising scrubby dirt,’ said Miss Price, as they were thus sitting together one day. ‘Three years ago, this was nothing but a rough hedgerow along the upper side of the field, never thought of as any thing, or capable of becoming any thing.’
‘It may seem partial in me to praise,’ replied Mary, looking around her, ‘but I must admire the taste my sister has shewn in all this. Even Henry approves of it, and his good opinion is not so easily won in matters horticultural.’
‘I am so glad to see the evergreens thrive!’ answered Miss Price, who did not appear to have heard her. ‘The evergreen! How beautiful, how welcome, how wonderful the evergreen!’
But as Miss Price happened to have her eyes fixed at that moment on a particularly fine example of an elm, Mary merely smiled and said nothing.
A few moments later, Miss Price began again in a rather different strain, ‘I cannot imagine what it is to pass March and April in London. How different a thing sunshine must be in a town! I imagine that in—Bedford-square was it not, my dear Miss Crawford?—the sun’s power is only a glare, serving but to bring forward stains and dirt that might otherwise have slept. And old gentlemen can be so particular about such things. I always pity the housekeeper in such circumstances. You, of course, know the trials of housekeeping only too well.’
Miss Price having exhausted for the present even her considerable talent for the underhand and the insulting, began to pull at some of the trimming on her dress. ‘This cheap fringe will not do at all. I really must ask Lady Bertram to remonstrate with that slovenly dressmaker. I am hardly fit to appear in decent company, but thankfully there is no-one of consequence here to see me.’
Mary watched her for a moment, reflecting that she did not have such an ornament on even her finest gown, before commenting thoughtfully, ‘I am conscious of being even more attracted to a country residence than I expected.’
‘Indeed?’ said Miss Price loudly, with a look of meaning. ‘What had you in mind? Allow me to guess. An elegant, moderate-sized house in the centre of family connections— continual engagements among them—commanding the first society in the neighbourhood, and turning from the cheerful round of such amusements to nothing worse than a tête-à-tête with the person one feels most agreeable in the world? I can see that such a picture would have much in it to attract you, Miss Crawford.’
‘Perhaps it does.’ Mary added to herself, leaving her seat, ‘Perhaps I could even envy you with such a home as that.’
Miss Price sat silent, once again absorbed in the vexations of her gown, and pulling at it until it was quite spoilt. Mary relapsed into thoughtfulness, till suddenly looking up she saw Edmund walking towards them in the company of Mrs Grant. The very consciousness of having been thinking of him as ‘Edmund’—as Miss Price alone was justified in thinking of him—caused her to colour and look away, a movement which was not lost on the sharp eyes of Miss Price.
‘Well, Miss Crawford,’ she said archly, ‘shall I disappoint them of half their lecture upon my sitting down out of doors at this time of year, by being up before they can begin?’
Edmund met them with particular awkwardness. It was the first time of his seeing them together since the beginning of that better acquaintance which he had been hearing deprecated by his mother almost every day. He could hardly understand it; there was such a difference in their tempers, their dispositions, and their tastes, there never were two people more dissimilar. But even if he saw the force of such a contrast, he was not yet equal to discuss it with himself, and seeing them together now, he confined himself to an insipid and common-place observation about the wisdom of judging the weather by the calendar, which would have merited an entry in Henry’s pocket-book, if he had but heard it.
As the four of them returned to the parsonage house, Edmund recollected the purpose of his errand; he had walked down on purpose to convey Sir Thomas’s invitation to the Grants and the Crawfords to dine at the Park. It was with strong expressions of regret that Mrs Grant declared herself to be prevented by a prior engagement, and Miss Price turned at once to Mary, saying how much she would have enjoyed the pleasure of her company, ‘but without Dr and Mrs Grant, she did not suppose it would be in their power to accept,’ all the while looking at Edmund for his support. But Mr Norris assured them that his uncle would be delighted to receive Mr and Miss Crawford, with or without the Grants, and in her brother’s absence Mary accepted with the greatest alacrity.
‘I am very glad. It will be delightful,’ said Miss Price, trying for greater warmth of manner, as they took their leave. Edmund took her arm and they
walked home together; and except in the immediate discussion of this engagement, it was a silent walk—for having finished that subject, Edmund grew thoughtful and indisposed towards any other. Miss Price narrowly observed him throughout, but she said nothing.
CHAPTER III
At ten minutes after four on the appointed day, the coachman drove round and Mary and Henry set off across the park. As it happened, the Mansfield family had received a first letter from Mr William Bertram that very morning, and a whole afternoon had been insufficient to wear out their enthusiasm for accounts of how he had fitted up his berth, or the striking parts of his new uniform, or the kindnesses of his captain. The letter was produced again when the Crawfords arrived, and much made of its frank, unstudied style, and clear, strong handwriting. This specimen, written in haste as it was, had not a fault, and Mrs Norris expressed herself very glad that she had given William what she did at parting, very glad indeed that it had been in her power, without material inconvenience, to give him some thing rather considerable to answer his expenses, as well as a very great deal of invaluable advice about how to get every thing very cheap, by driving a hard bargain, and buying it all at Turner’s.
‘You are indeed fortunate that Mr William Bertram intends to be such a good correspondent,’ said Mary, examining the letter in her turn. ‘In my experience, young men are much less diligent creatures!’ with a smile at Henry. ‘Normally they would not write to their families but upon the most urgent necessity in the world; and when obliged to take up the pen, it is all over and done as quickly as possible. Henry, who is in every other way exactly what a brother should be, has never yet written more than a single page to me; and very often it is nothing more than, “Dear Mary, I am just arrived. The grounds shew great promise, and thankfully there are not too many sheep. Yours &c”.’
‘My dear Miss Crawford, you make me almost laugh,’ said Miss Price, ‘but I cannot rate so very highly the love or good-nature of a brother, who will not give himself the trouble of writing any thing worth reading, to his own sister. I am sure my cousins would never use me so, under any circumstances.’
‘I doubt there is a man in England who could so neglect Miss Price,’ said Henry gallantly, but received no other reward for his pains than Miss Price at once drawing back, and giving him a look of scorn.
A table was formed for a round game after tea, and Henry ventured to suggest that Speculation might amuse the ladies. Unwilling to cede the arrangement of the evening to anyone, and certainly not to either of the Crawfords, Mrs Norris protested that she had never played the game, nor seen it played in her life.
‘Perhaps Miss Price may teach you, ma’am.’
But here Fanny interposed with anxious protestations of her own equal ignorance, and although this gave Mrs Norris a further opportunity to press very industriously, but very unsuccessfully, for Whist, she quickly encountered the warm objections of the other young people, who assured her that nothing could be so easy, that Speculation was indeed the easiest game on the cards.
Henry once more stepped forward with a most earnest request to be allowed to sit with Mrs Norris and Miss Price, and teach them both, and it was so settled. It was a fine arrangement for Henry, who was close to Fanny, and with two persons’ cards to manage as well as his own— for though it was impossible for Mary not to feel herself mistress of the rules of the game in three minutes, Fanny continued to assert that Speculation seemed excessively difficult in her eyes, that she had not the least idea what she was about, and required her companion’s constant assistance as every deal began, to direct her what she was to do with her cards.
Soon after, taking the opportunity of a little languor in the game, Edmund called upon Mr Crawford to discuss his plans of improvement, it being the first time that the ladies had had the opportunity of questioning him on the subject.
‘Mansfield’s natural beauties are great, sir,’ he replied, ‘such a happy fall of ground, and such timber! (Let me see, Miss Price; Mrs Norris bids a dozen for that knave; no, no, a dozen is more than it is worth. Mrs Norris does not bid a dozen. She will have nothing to say to it. Go on, go on.) With improvement Mansfield will vie with any place in England.’
‘And what in particular will you be suggesting, Mr Crawford?’ asked Lady Bertram.
‘My survey is not fully complete, ma’am, but I anticipate one or two major works that may put the estate to some expense.’
‘Well, the expense need not be any impediment,’ cried Mrs Norris. ‘If I were Sir Thomas, I should not think of the expense. Such a place as Mansfield Park deserves every thing that taste and money can do. For my own part, I am always planting and improving, for naturally I am excessively fond of it.We have done a vast deal in that way at the White House; we have made it quite a different place from what it was when we first had it, and would have done more, had my poor husband lived. I am sure you would learn a great deal from the White House, Mr Crawford,’ finished Mrs Norris carelessly. ‘You may come any day; the housekeeper will be pleased to shew you around.’
Henry merely bowed; even had he intended taking Mrs Norris up on her condescending offer, what he had seen of the house from the road, had already confirmed his opinion that its owner was a person of more fortune than taste.
‘I hope the Mansfield estate will bear any expense you care to propose, Crawford,’ said Sir Thomas solemnly after a few minutes, as another deal proceeded. ‘But, unhappily, I have suffered some recent difficulties on a property I own in Yorkshire, and as I explained to my family this afternoon, I fear I will be obliged to go there myself, to prevent any further losses. And as I will be travelling north I will go first to my niece’s estate in Cumberland, and conduct my annual review with the steward and the bailiff. It is rather earlier in the year than I usually undertake this journey, but my niece’s forthcoming birthday will require certain alterations to the superintendence of the estate, which I must settle on her behalf with the attorney. Nonetheless I am in hopes that the whole business may be concluded within three months, and that I will be able to return to my family well before the winter. In the mean time, Crawford, you have my permission to proceed with the improvements as you see fit; I only stipulate that you keep me informed of your progress by regular correspondence. However,’ he continued with a grave smile, ‘in the light of what we have already heard of your epistolary style from Miss Crawford, I hope that you can be persuaded to supply rather more detail to me than observations about my sheep.’
Henry laughed, then bowed his assent, and wished his patron a pleasant journey. The conversation resumed, and the rest of the company turned their attention once again to the game, but seated as she was near to her brother, Mary soon after found herself overhearing a further brief exchange.
‘May I enquire, sir,’ said Henry in a low voice, ‘whether you would wish me to consult Mr Bertram on any decisions of note that arise in your absence?’
Sir Thomas shook his head. ‘Between the management of the estate, and his own shooting parties and horse races, I fear my son will have more than enough to occupy him. Should you need advice, I would recommend your applying to Mr Norris in my stead. He is careful and methodical, and his judgment can be relied upon. Indeed,’ he continued, lowering his voice still further, ‘I had hoped to have the benefit of his company in Cumberland, especially as I will have to instruct the attorney to prepare the settlements, but Mrs Norris has persuaded me that he should remain here, not only to assist my son, but also for his own happiness, at this particular time.’
Mary struggled to contain her agitation, but the case admitted of no equivocation. All doubt was at an end. There was no other way of accounting for Sir Thomas’s words than by supposing that preparations were now in hand for the marriage of Miss Price and Mr Norris.
She made a hasty finish of her dealings with Maria, and exclaimed, ‘There! I have finally learned to harden my heart, and sharpen my self-command. I play for victory like a woman of spirit, but I will only pay for it what it is worth.
’
You may imagine her surprise when she found that the game was hers after all, and returned her far more than she had expected, from what she had given to secure it.
It was a silent walk back across the park by moonlight for the parsonage party, with each absorbed in their own private thoughts. Mary had never believed Henry’s attachment to Miss Price to be serious, and how he might be affected by the news of her impending marriage, she could not say; she was too vexed at her own weakness and susceptibility to have much time to consider his feelings. What had she been thinking? To allow herself to become attached to a man destined for another! She could not even claim ignorance as an excuse—the whole county had known of the planned union, and she herself had been informed of it on the very day she arrived in Mansfield. She had been thoughtless and vain, allowing herself to fall, almost unconsciously, into an attachment that could only injure her peace.
Murder at Mansfield Park Page 4