Murder at Mansfield Park

waiting carriage. Mary intervened most strenuously, citing the apothecary’s advice, her own concerns, and the
certainty of the best possible care under Mrs Grant’s good management, but to no avail. Mrs Norris was not to be denied, and even the reappearance of Mrs Grant herself could not dissuade her.
The two were seldom good friends: Mrs Norris had always considered Mrs Grant’s housekeeping to be profligate and extravagant, and their tempers, pursuits, and habits were totally dissimilar.
One of the Mansfield footmen was already lifting Julia in his arms, when Mary made one last attempt to prevent what must, she believed, be a wretched mistake.
    ‘I beg you, Mrs Norris, not to do any thing that might endanger Miss Julia any further. Mr Phillips was most definite—she was not to be moved.’
    ‘Nonsense!’ cried Mrs Norris, turning her eyes on Mary with her usual contempt. ‘What can you know of such things? I have been nursing the Mansfield servants for twenty
years—Wilcox has been quite cured of his rheumatism, thanks to me, and there were plenty who said he would never walk again. And besides, we have our own physician to
consult—quite the best man in the neighbourhood, I can assure you. Not that it is any of your concern. What are you standing there gaping for, Williams? Hurry up, man—take Miss
Julia to the carriage!’
    ‘In that case,’ said Mary firmly, ‘I hope you will permit me to accompany you back to the Park. It would comfort me to know that Mr Phillips’s instructions were conveyed
correctly.’
    ‘That is quite ridiculous!’ cried Mrs Norris, her face red. ‘Absolutely out of the question! Even if there were room in the carriage, how dare you suggest that I cannot comprehend the instructions of a mere apothecary, or that the Bertrams are incapable of caring properly for their own daughter!’ And with that she turned, and without the courtesy of a
bow, swept out of the room.
    Mary was about to follow her when Mrs Grant put a hand on her arm. ‘Let her go, sister. You know it is useless to remonstrate with her when she is in such a humour as this.’
    But Mary was not to be restrained, and shaking herself free, she ran out of the house towards the carriage, only to stop a moment later in amazement and confusion. For who should she see helping
to settle Julia into the carriage, and arranging the shawls gently about her, but Edmund! She had been thinking him two hundred miles off, and here he was, less than ten yards away. Their eyes
instantly met, and she felt her cheeks glow, though whether with pleasure or embarrassment she could not have told. He was the more prepared of the two for the encounter, and came towards her with
a resolute step, ignoring his mother’s agitations to be gone.
    ‘Miss Julia is most unwell,’ faltered Mary. ‘The apothecary—he was concerned at the harm that might be caused by such a removal—I do not think Mrs
Norris—’
    ‘My mother can be very resolute, once she has determined on a course of action,’ he replied, with a grim look, ‘but once I understood her design in coming here, I insisted on
accompanying her. You may trust me to ensure that the journey causes Julia the least possible discomfort, and that she will have every attention at the Park.’
    ‘And your own journey?’ she asked quickly. ‘You must have arrived very recently.’
    ‘This very hour,’ he said, with a look of consciousness. ‘I am sure you will be relieved to hear that Sir Thomas improves daily, but Mansfield is a very different place from
the one I left. You, I know, will understand—’
    At that moment they were interrupted once again by the sharp voice of Mrs Norris from her seat in the carriage. ‘I thought Miss Crawford professed herself concerned for
Julia’s health. In which case I cannot conceive why she is deliberately delaying our departure in this way, and forcing the carriage to wait about in this heat. That will do Julia no
good at all, you may be sure of that .’
    Edmund turned to Mary. ‘Perhaps you would do us the honour of calling at the Park in the morning?’ he said quickly, with a look of earnestness. ‘You will be able to enquire
after Julia, and perhaps I might also take the opportunity to have some minutes’ converse with you, if it is not inconvenient.’
    ‘Yes—that is—no, not at all. I will call after breakfast.’
    He bowed briefly, and the carriage was gone.
    Mary kept her promise; indeed, she could not