Murder at Mansfield Park

Chapter 4

As she dressed for dinner the following day, Mary struggled to achieve at least the appearance of composure; her brother might make such public shew of his own attachment as he chose, and not care for the consequences; Mary must be more guarded and more circumspect. And now that she was fully apprised of her own feelings, she was apprehensive lest Henry’s discernment or her sister’s shrewd eye might discover the truth; she did not know, in reality, whether it was her brother’s raillery she feared more, or the sisterly concern of Mrs Grant’s warm and affectionate heart.

For the time being, however, Mrs Grant seemed more concerned with the small cares and anxieties of her toilette. "What dreadful hot weather this is!" she said, working away her fan as if for life, as the carriage made its way across the park. "It keeps one in a continual state of inelegance."

"We shall, at least, find the company somewhat enlivened this evening by the presence of another guest," remarked her husband, rather sourly. "A larger group is always preferable — tiny parties force one into constant exertion."

As they approached the Park, they passed close by the stable-yard and coach-house.

"Ha!" cried Henry in delight. "The much-anticipated Rushworth must be here already! You were right, Mary, ’tis a barouche. And a very fine one, at that! Quite as gaudy and ostentatious as I expected. This is much better than I had dared to hope; I anticipate an evening of the keenest enjoyment."

As it was, the parsonage party heard Mr Rushworth before they saw him, for the sound of his voice reached them even as the servant led them across the hall.

"My dear Lady Bertram," he was saying loudly, "the insufferable dilatoriness one endures at their hands! The thousand disappointments and delays to which one is exposed! The trouble that is made over the slightest request, the tricks and stratagems that are employed to avoid the simplest tasks, make one quite despair. Only this morning I decided that blue was quite the wrong colour for the drawing-room and directed the painter that the entire room should be done again in pea-green. One would have thought that I had asked him to undertake one of the labours of Hercules." "For Heaven’s sake, man," said I, "’tis nothing more than a little distemper — no more than half an hour’s work for a great lubberly fellow like you. Go to it, man! You will have it done before dinner-time!" But needless to say, when I left Sotherton two hours ago he was still there, on his hands and knees with a sponge and a pail of water. They have no capacity for diligence, Mrs Norris, no enthusiasm for honest toil!"

"Oh! I can only agree with you, Mr Rushworth," simpered Mrs Norris, "and if he were here, my dear husband would concur most heartily. When we had the dining-parlour at the White House improved, we had to insist that the work was done over three times. I told Mr Norris not to pay them a shilling until we were completely satisfied with the results."

Mr Rushworth was just beginning to commend Mrs Norris’s good management when the Grants and Crawfords made their entrance. When Mary was introduced he addressed her with affected civility, and gave a haughty bow and wave of the hand, which assured Henry, as plainly as words could have done, that he was exactly the coxcomb he had been hoping for. However, the smiles and pleased looks of those standing round him by the fire shewed that many of the family had already formed a completely contrary opinion. Mary soon observed that Miss Bertram looked particularly happy; her countenance had an unusual animation, which was heightened still farther when they went in to dinner and she was seated opposite to their principal guest.

Henry took a place near to Miss Price, but she very pointedly gave her whole attention to Mr Rushworth, who was sitting beside her. With both Miss Bertram and Miss Price claiming a share in his civilities, Mr Rushworth had much to do to satisfy the vanity of both young ladies, but it soon became obvious to Mary, that despite paying the most flattering courtesies on either side, their visitor’s eye was far more often drawn to Maria than to her cousin. Miss Price saw it too; of that there could be no doubt. Her face crimsoned over and she was evidently struggling for composure. Mary saw that she was piqued, and found herself divided between a hope that Miss Price might derive some benefit from such a lesson in humility, and a degree of sympathy she would not have anticipated, had she pondered the question with cool consideration. Accustomed as the young lady was to constant deference and an easy pre-eminence, no-one seemed to have thought it useful to teach her how to govern her temper, or sustain a second place with patience and fortitude.

Of the tumult of Miss Price’s feelings, however, her family seemed perfectly unaware. Mary thought, however, that she observed a look and a smile of consciousness from Miss Bertram, which shewed that she could not but be pleased, she could not but triumph, meeting with such a delightful and unwonted event. Mary wondered what such an unexpected development might lead to, but even her foresight was not equal to imagining what was eventually to ensue.

When the dessert and the wine were arranged, the subject of improving grounds was brought forward again, and Mr Rushworth turned to Henry with all the careless insolence of imaginary superiority. "Knowing something of your reputation, nothing could be so gratifying to me as to hear your opinion of my plans for Sotherton. After all, it is so useful to have one’s genius confirmed by a professional man."

Henry coloured, and said nothing, but Mr Rushworth’s eyes were fixed on the young ladies. "In my opinion it is infinitely better to rely on one’s own genius," he continued, "or, at most, to consult with friends and disinterested advisers, rather than throw the business into the hands of an improver. I had considered engaging Repton. His terms are five guineas a day, you know, which is of course a mere nothing, but in the end I could not see what such a man could possibly devise that I could not do fifty times better myself. How could it be otherwise? I own that he may be blessed with natural taste, but he has no education, none of the instruction that improves the mind and informs the understanding."

Henry’s mortification was apparent, at least to some, and Mr Norris hastened to ask him about his proposals for Mansfield.

"We have all, at one time or another in the last few weeks, attempted to divine your intentions, Crawford, but so far you have always stood firm. But we will not be denied tonight — come, you must let us into the secret. Mrs Grant, Miss Crawford, you must join me in persuading your brother."

Henry laughed, but protested that it would be impossible to do justice to the imagination and invention of his proposals (this with a look of meaning in the direction of Mr Rushworth) without his sketches and drawings shewing the park as it now was, and as it would be after his improvements.

"But surely you can give us some idea?" cried Tom Bertram. "A general picture of what you propose?"

"With Sir Thomas’s permission, I will be happy to do so." Sir Thomas bowing his consent, Henry began his narration; and Mary smiled to see him now the centre of attention, with even Miss Price gazing intently upon him.

"I will begin with the river, or perhaps rivulet is a more apt term; a place such as Mansfield should not be dishonoured by such a thin brook that floods with every shower. No, Mansfield deserves the splendid prospect of an abundant river, majestically flowing. But," he said, turning to his neighbour, "I see a question in Miss Price’s eyes. She is wondering how this is to be done. And the answer is that I propose to build a new weir, a weir that will augment the flow of the river, and create a cascade within view of the house."

There was the greatest amazement at this, and expressions of astonishment and admiration on all sides.

"And yet," he said, smiling, "I have barely begun, and my next scheme is even more ambitious than the first. I will open the prospect at the rear of the house and create a vista that will be the envy of the whole country!"

"Open the prospect?" said Julia, speaking for the first time, the colour rushing from her cheeks. "But you could not do that — that would not be possible unless — unless — you felled the avenue. Surely you do not — you cannot — intend to do that?"

"My sincerest apologies to Miss Julia Bertram," said Henry in a gentler tone, "but I do not see how else it is to be done."

Seeing her distress, her father took her hand, and pressed it kindly."My dear," said Sir Thomas,"I know your attachment to the avenue, but we have brought Mr Crawford here to give us his advice. There can be no use in that if we do not take it when it is given."

"Did not I hear that you did something similar at Compton, Crawford?" asked Mr Rushworth in a complacent accent. "Cut down some twisted old trees near the house? I am often asked for my opinion on such matters, and on this occasion, I was forced to acknowledge (though rather against the bias of my inclination, I confess) that it appeared to have been something of a success. That horrid dark house at Compton has become almost liveable."

Miss Price turned at once to her uncle. "I hope you will consider Mr Rushworth’s proposition, sir," she said. "Those gloomy old trees quite overwhelm the view from my room. Julia’s silly girlish attachment to them cannot be allowed to compromise the comfort of everyone else in the house."

She spoke in a cross tone quite unlike her usual simper, which Mary took as proof that discontent and jealousy had made her briefly forgetful of the appearance of demure and tender sensibility she normally studied to affect. The effect of her words on Julia was equally apparent; it pained Mary to see that the girl had turned of a death-like paleness, and was too intent on suppressing her agitation to eat or speak anything more.

"I quite agree with you, Fanny," said Mrs Norris quickly. "Indeed, I was saying much the same to Lady Bertram only this evening. At fourteen Julia is in far too many respects exactly as she was at ten. Running about wild in the woods, tearing her clothes, and indulging in all manner of juvenile whims. If you had seen her in the drawing-room the other day, Sir Thomas — quite ragged and covered with paint from head to toe! I am sure you would have agreed with me — it is time she was taken in hand. I am at your service, sir, whenever you command me."

As a general reflection on Julia, Sir Thomas thought nothing could be more unjust, and seeing that his daughter’s tears were about to shew themselves, he tried to turn the conversation, tried repeatedly before he could succeed, but the volubility of his principal guest came at last to his aid. Mr Rushworth was a great deal too full of his own cares to think of anything else, or notice what had passed, and he resumed the subject of improvements in general, and Sotherton in particular, with unimpaired enthusiasm. After a lengthy description of the work he was intending to undertake — which was all to be done in the very best taste and without a thought for the expense — he returned once more to Compton, which he now appeared to consider owed all its picturesque new beauty to his having once had a brief conversation on the subject with its owner, more than a twelvemonth before. Mary hardly dared look at her brother, but when she did have the courage to glance across at him, she found to her surprise that he was deep in conversation with Miss Price. Judging by that young lady’s expression, Henry was doubtless supplying all the compliments Mr Rushworth had neglected to provide, but Mary wondered at the wisdom of such a proceeding for either party. Miss Price might make use of her brother’s flattery to console a wounded vanity, and he might profit from such a capital opportunity to advance his own suit, but in neither case could Mary see much good resulting from it, and a glance at Mr Norris shewed that he was not entirely free from similar apprehensions. Mary could not but agree, though to think of Edmund as agitated by jealousy, was a bitter blow indeed.

Mr Rushworth concluded his discourse with a second and even more lengthy expatiation on the new prospects that had been opened up by the felling of the avenue, and turned in conclusion to Julia, seemingly unaware that he was only adding to her distress. "But if the youngest Miss Bertram is still unpersuaded, and would prefer some blasted tree-trunks to the openness of a fine view, perhaps a visit to Compton might convince her?"

"It is a capital idea, Rushworth," said Tom quickly, "but unhappily Mr Smith is not among our acquaintance, though perhaps Mr Crawford might be able — "

"Oh! If that is all the difficulty, then you need say no more," replied Mr Rushworth in a grand way. "Smith is an intimate friend of mine, and that alone will suffice to gain admittance. It is, what? Ten or twelve miles from Mansfield? Just the distance for a day’s excursion. We may take a cold collation à la rustique, and wander about the grounds, and altogether enjoy a complete party of pleasure."

Miss Bertram clapped her hands together, her eyes sparkling with anticipated enjoyment; even Miss Price smiled her acquiescence, and Sir Thomas was pleased to give his approbation; but the person for whose benefit the visit had been proposed, remained wholly unmoved. Julia looked first at Henry and then at her father, and then, rising from her chair, she ran out of the room, dashing her plate to the floor. There was an awkward pause before Lady Bertram rose, and suggested to the ladies that this would be an appropriate time for them to withdraw. Mary wondered if she might contrive to see Julia, and console her, but not knowing where she might find the girl’s room, she was obliged to hope a member of the family would shew a similar solicitude; though as far as she could ascertain, no-one slipped away upstairs, either then, or at any other time that evening.

When the ladies attained the drawing-room the subject turned immediately to their visitor. Mr Rushworth was not handsome; no, was Miss Price’s judgment, he was absolutely plain — small, black, and plain. Further impartial consideration by Miss Bertram proved him not so very plain; he had so much countenance, and his nose was so good, and he was so well made, that one soon forgot he was plain; and after a quarter of an hour, she no longer allowed him to be called so by any body, whatever Miss Price’s views were on the matter. Mr Rushworth was, in fact, the most agreeable young man Miss Bertram had ever met; Miss Price’s engagement made him in equity the property of her cousin, of which she was fully aware, even without the nods and winks of Mrs Norris, and by the time the gentlemen appeared, she was already wrapt in her own private and delicious meditations on the relative merits of white satin and lace veils.

When the gentlemen joined them a few minutes later, it became apparent that they had been talking of a ball; and no ordinary ball, but a private ball in all the shining new splendour of Sotherton, with its solid mahogany, rich damask, and bright new gilding. How it came that such a capital piece of news should have fallen to the share of the gentlemen and the port, the ladies could not at first comprehend, but the fact of the ball was soon fixed to the last point of certainty, to the great delight of the whole party. In spite of being somewhat out of spirits, the prospect of a ball was indeed delightful to Mary, and she was able to listen to Mr Rushworth’s interminable descriptions of supper-rooms, card-tables, and musicians, with due complacency. Miss Bertram had never looked so beautiful, and Mary was almost sure that in the general bustle and joy that succeeded Mr Rushworth’s announcement, he had taken the opportunity to speak to her privately, and secure her for the two first dances. As for Miss Price, there could be no doubt whom she would open the ball with, but when Mary looked around for her, she found that she was, once again, engaged in an animated conversation with Henry, while Edmund was standing alone by the fire, lost in thought.

The following morning Mary called early at the Park, only to find that Julia Bertram was indisposed and in bed. Having sent her best compliments to the invalid, she was on the point of departure when she found herself being ushered with some ceremony into the morning-room, where the other ladies of the house were assembled. After paying her respects to Lady Bertram, who was sitting on the sopha on the other side of the room, absorbed in her needlework, she saw Miss Price gesturing to her, and as soon as Mary drew near she said in a low voice, "May I speak to you for a few minutes? I wish to ask your advice."

The look of surprise on Mary’s face shewed how far she was from expecting such an opening, but Miss Price rose immediately and led the way upstairs to her own room. As soon as the door closed behind them, Miss Price began to explain the nature of her request.

"It is the ball at Sotherton that I seek your advice upon, Miss Crawford. I am quite unable to satisfy myself as to what I ought to wear, and so I have determined to seek the counsel of the more enlightened, and apply to you."

Miss Price then proceeded to lay before her such a number of elegant gowns, anyone of which might bear comparison with the latest London fashions, as left Mary in no doubt that Miss Price had no real value for her opinion, and wanted only to display her own superior wardrobe. For the next two hours Mary was obliged to listen to a minute enumeration of the price of every head-dress, and the pattern of every gown. Her own dress being finally settled in all its principal parts, Miss Price turned her attention to Mary.

"And what will you wear, Miss Crawford? The gown you wore at dinner last night? Or do you have another? And what about ornaments? Do you possess anything that would be considered rich enough for company such as we shall have at Sotherton?"

"I have attended assemblies in London many times," said Mary firmly, "and I have always worn a very pretty topaz cross that Henry bought for me some years ago."

"I recollect the very one!" cried Miss Price, "but do you really have only that meagre bit of ribbon to fasten it to? Surely Mr Crawford might be prevailed upon to buy you a gold chain as well?"

"Henry had wanted to buy me a gold chain," said Mary, concealing her anger, "but the purchase was beyond his means at the time."

"But surely, not to wear the cross to Mr Rushworth’s ball might be mortifying him?"

"My dear Miss Price, such a trifle is not worth half as many words. Henry will be delighted to see me wearing the cross, even on a piece of meagre ribbon, and I do not care for anyone else’s opinion, whatever it may be."

"Not care how you appear in front of so many elegant young women! I would be ashamed to stand up so. My dear Miss Crawford, pray let me be of assistance."

Turning to her table, she immediately presented Mary with a small trinket-box, and requested her to choose from among several gold chains and necklaces.

"You see what a collection I have," said she grandly, "more by half than I ever use, or even think of. My family is always giving me something or other. I do not offer them as new, I offer nothing but an old necklace. You must forgive the liberty and oblige me."

Mary resisted for as long as she could without being thought ungrateful, wondering all the time what Miss Price’s real motive might be in such a shew of generosity; but when her companion urged her once again, Mary found herself obliged to yield, and proceeded to make the selection. She was determined in her choice at last, by fancying there was one necklace more frequently placed before her eyes than the rest, and she hoped, in fixing on this, to be choosing what Miss Price least wished to keep. She would rather perhaps have been obliged to some other person, but there was nothing to be done now, but to submit with a good grace and hope for the best.