Murder at Mansfield Park

"My dear Mary," replied Henry, detaining her, "you have not heard the end of my story. When Miss Price gave no immediate answer to his question, Mrs Norris hastened to explain to him that your necklace is, in fact, an entirely different ornament, of a similar pattern to the one he gave Fanny, but — and here I had difficulty in holding my peace — of inferior workmanship."

"But why?" stammered Mary. "What can be the justification for such an unnecessary deception?"

"Perhaps because Mrs Norris’s beady little eyes have detected some part of the truth? That Miss Price no longer cares for her son — that is, if she ever did — and her making his gift over to you is proof of that. But, one thing you may be sure of — one thing we may both be sure of," this with a look of meaning, "is that old Mother Norris will not let it go as easily as that. That marriage is the favourite project of her heart, and she will do anything necessary to secure it — even if it means practising deceit on her own son."

"But why should Fanny do such a thing?" said Mary. "She must have known the effect it would produce on Edmund — Mr Norris. I can quite believe that she would connive most happily at anything that caused me embarrassment, but what can she hope to gain by behaving so discourteously to Mr Norris? What can be her motive?"

"I do not pretend to understand Miss Price," said Henry grimly, "but could it be that she wishes to put his affection to the test? Or to ascertain if he has feelings for another?"

He stopped. By this time Mary’s cheeks were in such a glow, that curious as he was, he would not press the article farther.

"I do not like deceiving Mr Norris," said Mary after a few moments, oppressed by an anguish of heart.

Henry sighed, and took her hand. "But unless you propose to undeceive him, and therefore to contradict Mrs Norris (which would cause no end of vexation, and not least to you, my dear Mary), then I do not see how it is to be avoided."

In such spirits as Mary now found herself, the rest of the evening brought her little amusement. She danced every dance, though without any expectation of pleasure, seeing it only as the surest means of avoiding Edmund. She told herself that he would soon be gone, and hoped that, by the time of his return, many days hence, she would have succeeded in reasoning herself into a stronger frame of mind. For, although she could see that, contrary to his earlier reserve, he now very much wished to speak to her, she could not yet bear the prospect of listening politely to apologies that had been extorted from him by falsehood.

Chapter 6

The house was very soon afterwards deprived of its master, and the day of Sir Thomas’s departure followed quickly upon the night of the ball. Only the necessity of the measure in a pecuniary light had resigned Sir Thomas to the painful effort of quitting his family, but the young ladies, at least, were somewhat reconciled to the prospect of his absence by the arrival of Mr Rushworth, who, riding over to Mansfield on the day of Sir Thomas’s leave-taking to pay his respects, renewed his proposal for private theatricals. However, contrary to Miss Price’s more sanguine expectations, the business of finding a play that would suit every body proved to be no trifle. All the best plays were run over in vain, and Othello, Macbeth, The Rivals, The School for Scandal, and a long etcetera, were successively dismissed.

"This will never do," said Tom Bertram at last. "At this rate, my father will be returned before we have even begun. From this moment I make no difficulties. I will take any part you choose to give me."

At that moment, Mr Yates took up one of the many volumes of plays that lay on the table, and suddenly exclaimed, "Lovers’ Vows! Why not Lovers’ Vows?"

"My dear Yates," cried Tom, "it strikes me as if it would do exactly! Frederick and the Baron are capital parts for Rushworth and Yates, and here is the rhyming Butler for me — if nobody else wants it. And as for the rest, it is only Count Cassel and Anhalt. Even Edmund may attempt one of them without disgracing himself, when he returns."

The suggestion was highly acceptable to all; to storm through Baron Wildenhaim was the height of Mr Yates’s theatrical ambition, and he immediately offered his services for the part, allowing Mr Rushworth to claim that of Frederick with almost equal satisfaction. Three of the characters were now cast, and Maria began to be concerned to know her own fate. "But surely there are not women enough," said she. "Only Agatha and Amelia. Here is nothing for Miss Crawford."