Murder at Mansfield Park

will admit to falling prey to a momentary impulse—a mere freak of temper. She wrote to me, you know, flaunting her patched-up marriage—rejoicing in the fact that
I would probably succumb to an apoplexy when I discovered the name of her husband. Congratulating herself for having escaped Edmund—and the next moment stating that she was even more thankful
to have escaped me . Me! Do you know what I have done for that girl all these years? Petted and cosseted and brought her forward, day after day, even at the expense of my sister
Bertram’s children. And all for nothing— nothing! And when I met her that morning she threw it all in my face—with such pleasure —such malicious enjoyment of my
ignominy and humiliation.’
    ‘And did she take an equal delight in your imminent ruin?’ said Mary quietly.
    ‘What’s that?’ snapped Mrs Norris.
    ‘My brother saw parts of that letter, Mrs Norris. I know that Mrs Crawford referred to your very great need of money— her money. That was the real reason why you were so keen
on the marriage, was it not? It had nothing to do with your son’s happiness, and every thing to do with her vast fortune. It was not the family honour that my brother destroyed, but your own
hopes of ever rectifying your perilous financial position. All your scrimping and penny-pinching, they were real enough, but this house, your style of life, it was all a sham—a blind.
There is no money, is there, Mrs Norris? It has all gone.’
    Every thing was clear to Mary now: even the smallest elements of the riddle had found their true place. ‘Indeed, it was not merely insults she threw in your face, was it? I have wondered
from the start why she had no purse when she was found, but now I think I understand. She actually dared to offer you money. Was that not the final insult? To receive a few miserable shillings from
someone who had robbed you of so much, and sealed your ruin? And yet you were so desperate for money, that you kept it, little as it was.’
    ‘How dare you stand there and talk to me in such a fashion! What can you possibly know of such things?’
    Mary began to edge slowly round the edge of the table towards the window. She had already perceived that her sole hope lay in someone hearing their voices, and coming to investigate. If not her
brother, then the White House servants; she must do all in her power to keep Mrs Norris talking—even to reason with her, if she could; though one glance at the woman’s haggard, ill face
was enough to make Mary fear whether she were not already far beyond the reach of either reason or persuasion.
    ‘I know a good deal of such things, Mrs Norris,’ she said, in a placatory tone. ‘I, too, have struggled to maintain the proper appearances on a straitened income. I, too, have
been forced to measures I deplored, merely to make ends meet. We are not so very unlike, you and I.’
    ‘Do not presume to compare your situation with mine ,’ she cried, pointing a trembling finger at Mary. ‘You are nothing , a non-entity —scarcely
better than a servant, and with the manners and wardrobe to suit—an impudent upstart without birth, connections, or fortune.’
    ‘Oh, but there you are wrong,’ said Mary. ‘Even if I allow that I may lack some of those things—though I resent your insolence just as much as you resent my supposed
impudence—I am not, now, without fortune . Indeed, thanks to his marriage my brother will henceforth be one of the richest men in England, as well as the legal inheritor of Lessingby
Hall.’
    She had hoped to plead a rational case—to present the prospect of a marriage between herself and Edmund as the only way to recover the family’s lost prosperity, and therefore grounds
enough for Mrs Norris to spare Mary’s own life, and help her save her son. But she had miscalculated. She could not have known that the mere mention of Lessingby would smite such a raw nerve.
It was the summation of every thing that Mrs Norris had hoped for, and to which she had deemed herself entitled; to her mind, it remained the pattern of perfection for all that was gracious,
elegant, and desirable, that she had been denied for so long; had it taken place, her son’s marriage would have brought this dream of felicity within her reach at last, and made her, de
facto , the mistress of the Hall. It had been the darling wish of her heart for many, many years, and she had not relinquished it without much pain, and even greater