Lynn Shepherd - Murder at Mansfield Park

The following morning she awoke to the same thoughts and meditations which had at length closed her eyes. It was impossible to think of anything else, and she was quite amazed at her own discomposure. Edmund was no longer the same Mr Norris to whom she had taken such an early dislike, taking for coldness and pride what was in reality only shyness and diffidence. True, his manners required intimacy to make them pleasing, but they had enjoyed something nearly approaching intimacy every morning for almost a month, and now that his natural shyness was overcome, his behaviour to her gave every indication of an open, affectionate heart. And now the advancement of his marriage, which should have confirmed him as the husband of another woman, had on the contrary, only served to make her understand her own heart; and never had she thought she might have loved him, as she did now, when all love must be in vain.

Remembering that they had agreed to ride again that morning, and feeling herself quite unequal to it, she sent word to the Park that she would not go out that day, and attempted to persuade Henry to walk with her, and conduct that morning’s observations on foot.

"I wish I could oblige you, my dear Mary," he replied, "but I am currently sketching plans for a Grecian temple on the hill behind the house. It is full two miles from the parsonage, and I should not have time to complete what I have set myself to do today if I were to walk there and back. But," he said, smiling, "I would be delighted to have your company to the stables. I hear we are to meet the celebrated Mr Rushworth tomorrow, and I am most eager to know what kind of a man to expect. I am sure the young ladies of the Park have made it their business to discover all there is to know on such a promising subject. You must enlighten me, so I may be fully prepared."

Henry meant only to divert her, and at any other time he would have succeeded; she would have entered into his lively speculations as to the cut of Mr Rushworth’s frock-coat and his preferred blend of snuff with genuine enthusiasm, for she usually took a great delight in anything ridiculous, and in self-conceit most of all. But she had never been more at a loss to make her feelings appear what they were not. It was necessary to smile, and smile she did, but the effort required was so far beyond her, that it was a welcome relief to watch him ride away.

After wandering in the park alone for two hours, a recollection of her long absence made her decide at length to return home. She was on the point of turning back when she was surprised by the sight of Mr Norris approaching her, and at no great distance. Composing herself and forcing a smile, she began, as they met, to comment upon the beauty of the day.

"I did not know before that you ever walked this way, Mr Norris," she continued, but then, recollecting that this might suggest she had sought the place purposely to avoid seeing him, her colour changed, and she said no more.

"I have been making a tour of the park," he replied, looking in her face, "as I generally do on days when I do not ride. Are you going much farther?"

"No, I should have turned back in a few moments."

Mary was surprised to find that he intended to accompany her, and accordingly they both turned, and walked together. She was afraid of talking of anything that might lead them to Miss Price, or his engagement; and, having nothing else to say, was determined to leave the trouble of finding a subject to him. It was some minutes before he did so, but at last, and as if it were an effort, he said, "Are you enjoying your stay in Mansfield? Your sister must be glad of your company."

"I think she is, yes. But I suspect that as far as Dr Grant is concerned, my brother is an even more welcome guest, since he provides a perfect excuse for drinking claret every day."

Mr Norris smiled. "I should also take this opportunity to thank you, Miss Crawford."

"Thank me, Mr Norris?" she said, in a voice of forced calmness. "What occasion could you have to thank me?"

"For your kindness to my cousin," he said, with a serious look. "I have been observing your new intimacy with the greatest pleasure. Julia is a dear child, but she has, perhaps, rather too much feeling for her own tranquillity. The companionship of a rational, unaffected woman like yourself can only be of the utmost advantage to her."

It was not the prettiest compliment she had ever been paid, but now that she knew Mr Norris better, Mary was sensible of his sincerity, and valued his words all the more.

"The rest of us have so many cares and preoccupations of our own," he continued, "that we may not have understood how lonely she has become since William’s departure. And even in a large and happy family the position of a youngest offspring can be a solitary one."

There might, perhaps, have been the suspicion of a sigh at this, and Mary wondered, for the first time, about his own childhood, and what it might have been to have had such a stepmother as Mrs Norris.

For a moment she thought he was about to say more, but he seemed to think better of it, and another long silence succeeded. But when he spoke again he surprised her exceedingly by asking whether she would be staying on in Northampton-shire when the work on the park was completed. She did not know what to make of it.What was it to him, after all, whether she went or staid?

"I hardly know," she stammered, blushing in spite of herself. "We — that is, my sister — has not yet invited me. But Henry will certainly be off," she continued, recovering her spirits. "Surry or Shrop-shire, I forget which, but in any case some where beginning with an S." She smiled. "But then Henry loves to be continually travelling. Even now, when he may pick and choose his engagements, I have known him to accept commissions simply for the pleasure of being on the road."

"I can see that such a man as Mr Crawford would like to have his own way," replied Mr Norris in a serious tone. "But we cannot all have his same luxury of choice. I envy him that. Most of his fellow men are condemned to self-denial, and an enforced submission to the will of others."

Mary laughed. "I doubt that the nephew of Sir Thomas Bertram can know very much of self-denial. Now, seriously, Mr Norris, what have you ever known of hardship? When have you been prevented from going wherever you chose, whenever the fancy took you? When have you been forced to rely on the kindness of others to supply the necessities of board and lodging?"

She stopped, knowing she had said a great deal too much, and averting her eyes, was unable to see the look on his face as he replied,"Miss Crawford is pleased to remind me of the differences in our situations. But," he said, in a softer accent, "in some matters of great weight, I too have suffered from the want of independence."

"Is this," thought Mary, "meant to refer to Miss Price?" Her embarrassment appeared in an agitated look, his in a rush of colour; and for a few minutes they were both silent; till the distant apparition of Henry promised to save them both from further discomfiture. He met them with great affability, saying that he had returned to the parsonage, and finding Mary still absent, had walked out to meet her. Mr Norris took the first opportunity of consigning Mary to her brother’s care, and when Henry then turned to her and asked what the two of them had been talking of so earnestly, she hardly knew how to answer.

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.