Murder at Mansfield Park

of happiness fails,
human nature turns to another; if the first calculation is wrong, we make a second better; we find comfort some where.’
    Mrs Grant’s confidence proved to be well founded, for the weather clearing, the excursion to Compton was reinstated, and the next time they all met together at the Park
an early day was named, and agreed to. Lady Bertram having a slight cold, she was persuaded to stay at home by her sister. At any other time Mrs Norris would have very thoroughly relished the means
this afforded her of directing the arrangement of the whole scheme; now, all her considerable efforts would be needed to keep Mr Rushworth away from Fanny, while throwing him, if she could, in the
way of Maria.
    ‘You must excuse Lady Bertram on this occasion, Mr Rushworth,’ she said coolly, ‘and accept of the girls and myself without her.’
    Julia began to protest, saying she had just as rather not go at all, but her aunt at once addressed her in a whisper both angry and audible: ‘What a piece of work here is about
nothing—I am quite ashamed of you, Julia, to make such a difficulty when the whole party has been arranged for your pleasure and convenience—accept the invitation with a good
grace, and let us hear no more of the matter.’
    ‘Pray do not urge her, madam,’ said Edmund. ‘I am sure my cousin will find herself quite equal to the visit, when the day comes.’
    Mrs Norris said no more, contenting herself with an angry look before turning to the subject of transport. ‘Your barouche will hold four perfectly well, Mr Rushworth, independent of the
box, on which one might go with you. And as for the young gentlemen, why, they can go on horseback.’
    ‘But why is it necessary,’ said Edmund, ‘that Rushworth’s carriage, or his only should be employed?’
    ‘What!’ cried Maria quickly. ‘Go box’d up five in a postchaise in this weather, when we may have seats in a barouche! No, my dear cousin, that will not quite do.’
After the ruin of Lovers’ Vows, and the wreck of her own hopes of Rushworth, Maria had confined herself to the house, seeing nobody, but for some days past she had begun to affect a
brittle and reckless gaiety that seemed precisely calculated to convey an indifference Mary could not believe she really felt. She appeared to have decided that even if the loss of James Rushworth
had destroyed her happiness, neither he nor her cousin should know that they had done it. She would not allow them to think of her as pining in a self-imposed solitude for them .
    ‘There is no hardship, I suppose,’ continued Edmund, ‘in going on the barouche box?’
    ‘Hardship!’ replied Maria; ‘Oh! I believe it would be generally thought the favourite seat. There can be no comparison as to one’s view of the country from the barouche
box.’
    ‘Quite so,’ said Fanny, with a look at Edmund. ‘I have no doubt that Miss Crawford will choose that seat. She has a great desire to see Compton.’
    ‘Miss Crawford has not often an opportunity to see her brother’s work,’ was Edmund’s only reply, and the subject was dropped.
    Friday was fine, and soon after breakfast Mr Rushworth arrived, driving the barouche. Miss Price was clearly meditating how best, and with the most appearance of obliging the
others, to secure the barouche box, while Miss Bertram was equally clearly intent on thwarting her, an aim in which she was warmly seconded by her aunt. ‘You were saying lately, Maria,’
Mrs Norris said quickly, ‘that you wished you could drive; I think this will be a good opportunity for you to take a lesson.’
    Happy Maria! Unhappy Fanny! The latter took her seat within, in gloom and mortification; the former was assisted in ascending the box by Edmund, who saw it all, but said nothing.
    When they approached Compton, Mr Rushworth appropriated the role of guide, and regaled them with a succession of observations on the property on each side of the road.
    ‘Now we shall have no more rough road, Miss Bertram, our difficulties are over. Mr Smith had it made when he first purchased the estate. His original intention was to keep the old road as
it was, since it passed by some very pretty cottages—delightfully picturesque objects, all ruined and overgrown with ivy—but the wretched tenants made so many difficulties about living
in them that he was forced to undertake renovations, with the result that the houses now look quite ordinary and dull. Happily he lighted on