Murder at Mansfield Park

ambition, upon my word!’ rejoined Tom. ‘I will remember to call upon your services when I want a river diverted, a hill removed, or a valley levelled.’
    ‘All feats which I have indeed performed!’ laughed Henry. ‘But, to conclude my narration, the meadows you can just see beyond the wilderness have all been laid together in the
last year. The wilderness on the right hand was already here when I came—it had been planted up some years before. As such it is further advanced than much of the planting in the new garden,
and I commend it to you as not only a pretty walk, but the one affording the best shade on a hot day.’
    No objection was made, but for some time there seemed no inclination to move in any direction, or to any distance. All dispersed about in happy spontaneous groups, though there was, perhaps, a
degree of premeditation in Mrs Norris’s determination to accompany Mr Rushworth and Fanny. For her part, Mary made sure to keep close to Julia, who had relapsed once again into silence and
sadness. A moment later she found, to her surprise, that Mr Norris intended to join them, and the three began with a turn on the lawn. A second circuit led them naturally to the door which Henry
had told them opened to the wilderness; from there a considerable flight of steps landed them in darkness and shade and natural beauty, compared with the heat and full sunshine of the terrace. For
some time they could only walk and admire, and Mary saw at once that the felling of the trees in the park had indeed opened the prospect in a most beautiful manner, even if she forbore from voicing
this opinion aloud. At length, after a short pause, Julia turned to Mary and said, ‘I suppose it must be my late illness that makes me so tired, but the next time we come to a seat, I should
be glad to sit down for a little while.’
    ‘My dear Julia,’ cried Edmund, immediately drawing her arm within his, ‘how thoughtless I have been! I hope you are not very fatigued. Perhaps,’ turning to Miss Crawford,
‘my other companion may also do me the honour of taking an arm.’
    ‘Thank you, but I am not at all tired.’ She took it, however, as she spoke, and the gratification of doing so, of feeling such a connection for the first time, assailed her with
satisfactions very sweet, if not very sound. A few steps farther brought them out at the bottom of the walk and a comfortable-sized bench, a few yards from an iron gate leading into the park, on
which Julia sat down.
    ‘Why would you not speak sooner, Julia?’ said Edmund, observing her.
    ‘I shall soon be rested,’ said Julia quickly. ‘Pray, do not interrupt your walk. I will be quite comfortable here.’
    It was with reluctance that Edmund suffered her to remain alone, but Julia eventually prevailed, and watched them till they had turned the corner, and all sound of them had ceased.
    A quarter of an hour passed away, and then Miss Bertram unexpectedly appeared on another path, some distance away. She was walking quickly, and with some purpose, and did not seem to notice her
sister, or have the slightest notion that any other person was nearby. Julia was about to rise and greet her, when she saw with some surprise that Maria was intent on concealing herself behind a
large shrub on one side of the path, to the very great danger of her new muslin gown. The reason for this unaccountable behaviour was soon revealed. Julia heard voices and feet approaching and a
few moments later Mr Rushworth and Miss Price issued from the same path, and came to a stop before the iron gate. They had clearly been engaged in a most earnest conversation; Miss Price looked all
flutter and happiness, and the faces of both were very close together. Neither was sensible of Miss Bertram’s being there, nor of Julia sitting motionless on the bench only a short distance
away. It struck the latter all of a sudden as being more like a play than any thing she had seen in the theatre at Mansfield Park, and though she knew she ought to draw their attention to her
presence, some thing constrained her, and she remained fixed in her seat. The first words she heard were from her cousin, and were to this effect.
    ‘My dear Mr Rushworth, I have not the slightest interest in attempting to find Mr Norris. Why, we have but this moment escaped from his horrible mother. No—I have had quite enough of that family for one morning. After all, what is Mr Norris to me that I should get myself hot and out