Murder at Mansfield Park

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.’
    But this was immediately opposed by Tom Bertram, who asserted the part of Amelia to be in every respect the property of Miss Crawford, if she would accept it. A short silence followed. Fanny and
Maria each felt the best claim to Agatha, and was hoping to have it pressed on her by the rest. But Mr Rushworth, who with seeming carelessness was turning over the first act, soon settled the
business. ‘I must entreat Miss Bertram ,’ said he, ‘not to contemplate any character but that of Amelia. That, in my opinion, is by far the most difficult character
in the whole piece. The last time I saw Lovers’ Vows the actress in the part gave quite the most deplorable performance (and in my opinion, the whole play was sadly wanting—if
they had accepted my advice, they might have brought the thing round in a trice, but though I offered my services to the manager, the scoundrel had the insolence to turn me down). But as I was
saying, a proper representation of Amelia demands considerable delicacy—the sort of delicacy we may confidently expect from Maria Bertram.’
    For a moment Miss Bertram wavered: his words were of a piece with his previous compliments; but that was before the ball, when he had danced with her only once, and with Fanny three times. Since
then he had hardly spoken to her. Was he now seeking only to induce her to overlook these previous affronts? She distrusted him; he was, she now suspected, at treacherous play with her, but as she
hesitated, her brother interposed once again with Miss Crawford’s better claim.
    ‘No, no, no, Maria must not be Amelia,’ said Tom. ‘The part is fit for Miss Crawford, and Miss Crawford only. She looks the part, and sounds the part, and I am persuaded will
do it admirably.’
    Maria looked narrowly at Fanny; the smile of triumph which she was trying to suppress afforded a yet stronger suspicion of there now being some thing of a private understanding between her and
Rushworth, the man Maria had been thinking of as her own avowed admirer only a few days before. Maria knew her cousin, and knew that opposition would only expose her to public shame and
humiliation. She had had enough.
    ‘Oh! Do not be afraid of my wanting to act,’ she cried; ‘I am not to be Agatha, and as to Amelia—such a pert, upstart girl. Most suitable for someone such
as—’
    She stopped and reddened, and then walked hastily out of the room, leaving awkward feelings for more than one.
    The concerns of the theatre were suspended during dinner, but the spirits of evening giving fresh courage, Tom, Mr Rushworth, and Mr Yates seated themselves once again in committee, when an
interruption was given by the entrance of the Grants and the Crawfords, who had come, late as it was, to drink tea with them. Mr Rushworth stepped forward with great alacrity to tell them the
agreeable news.
    ‘We have got a play,’ said he.
    ‘I must congratulate you,