Read Online Murder at Mansfield Park by Lynn Shepherd - Free Book Online
Authors: Lynn Shepherd
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another in the last few weeks, attempted to divine your intentions, Crawford, but so far you have always stood firm. But we will not be denied
tonight—come, you must let us into the secret. Mrs Grant, Miss Crawford, you must join me in persuading your brother.’
Henry laughed, but protested that it would be impossible to do justice to the imagination and invention of his proposals (this with a look of meaning in the direction of Mr Rushworth) without
his sketches and drawings shewing the park as it now was, and as it would be after his improvements.
‘But surely you can give us some idea?’ cried Tom Bertram. ‘A general picture of what you propose?’
‘With Sir Thomas’s permission, I will be happy to do so.’ Sir Thomas bowing his consent, Henry began his narration; and Mary smiled to see him now the centre of attention, with
even Miss Price gazing intently upon him.
‘I will begin with the river, or perhaps rivulet is a more apt term; a place such as Mansfield should not be dishonoured by such a thin brook that floods with every shower. No, Mansfield
deserves the splendid prospect of an abundant river, majestically flowing. But,’ he said, turning to his neighbour, ‘I see a question in Miss Price’s eyes. She is wondering how
this is to be done. And the answer is that I propose to build a new weir, a weir that will augment the flow of the river, and create a cascade within view of the house.’
There was the greatest amazement at this, and expressions of astonishment and admiration on all sides.
‘And yet,’ he said, smiling, ‘I have barely begun, and my next scheme is even more ambitious than the first. I will open the prospect at the rear of the house and create a
vista that will be the envy of the whole country!’
‘Open the prospect?’ said Julia, speaking for the first time, the colour rushing from her cheeks. ‘But you could not do that—that would not be possible
unless—unless—you felled the avenue. Surely you do not—you cannot —intend to do that?’
‘My sincerest apologies to Miss Julia Bertram,’ said Henry in a gentler tone, ‘but I do not see how else it is to be done.’
Seeing her distress, her father took her hand, and pressed it kindly.‘My dear,’ said Sir Thomas, ‘I know your attachment to the avenue, but we have brought Mr Crawford here to
give us his advice. There can be no use in that if we do not take it when it is given.’
‘Did not I hear that you did some thing similar at Compton, Crawford?’ asked Mr Rushworth in a complacent accent. ‘Cut down some twisted old trees near the house? I am often
asked for my opinion on such matters, and on this occasion, I was forced to acknowledge (though rather against the bias of my inclination, I confess) that it appeared to have been some thing of a
success. That horrid dark house at Compton has become almost liveable.’
Miss Price turned at once to her uncle. ‘I hope you will consider Mr Rushworth’s proposition, sir,’ she said. ‘Those gloomy old trees quite overwhelm the view from my
room. Julia’s silly girlish attachment to them cannot be allowed to compromise the comfort of everyone else in the house.’
She spoke in a cross tone quite unlike her usual simper, which Mary took as proof that discontent and jealousy had made her briefly forgetful of the appearance of demure and tender sensibility
she normally studied to affect. The effect of her words on Julia was equally apparent; it pained Mary to see that the girl had turned of a death-like paleness, and was too intent on suppressing her
agitation to eat or speak any thing more.
‘I quite agree with you, Fanny,’ said Mrs Norris quickly. ‘Indeed, I was saying much the same to Lady Bertram only this evening. At fourteen Julia is in far too many respects
exactly as she was at ten. Running about wild in the woods, tearing her clothes, and indulging in all manner of juvenile whims. If you had seen her in the drawing-room the
tonight—come, you must let us into the secret. Mrs Grant, Miss Crawford, you must join me in persuading your brother.’
Henry laughed, but protested that it would be impossible to do justice to the imagination and invention of his proposals (this with a look of meaning in the direction of Mr Rushworth) without
his sketches and drawings shewing the park as it now was, and as it would be after his improvements.
‘But surely you can give us some idea?’ cried Tom Bertram. ‘A general picture of what you propose?’
‘With Sir Thomas’s permission, I will be happy to do so.’ Sir Thomas bowing his consent, Henry began his narration; and Mary smiled to see him now the centre of attention, with
even Miss Price gazing intently upon him.
‘I will begin with the river, or perhaps rivulet is a more apt term; a place such as Mansfield should not be dishonoured by such a thin brook that floods with every shower. No, Mansfield
deserves the splendid prospect of an abundant river, majestically flowing. But,’ he said, turning to his neighbour, ‘I see a question in Miss Price’s eyes. She is wondering how
this is to be done. And the answer is that I propose to build a new weir, a weir that will augment the flow of the river, and create a cascade within view of the house.’
There was the greatest amazement at this, and expressions of astonishment and admiration on all sides.
‘And yet,’ he said, smiling, ‘I have barely begun, and my next scheme is even more ambitious than the first. I will open the prospect at the rear of the house and create a
vista that will be the envy of the whole country!’
‘Open the prospect?’ said Julia, speaking for the first time, the colour rushing from her cheeks. ‘But you could not do that—that would not be possible
unless—unless—you felled the avenue. Surely you do not—you cannot —intend to do that?’
‘My sincerest apologies to Miss Julia Bertram,’ said Henry in a gentler tone, ‘but I do not see how else it is to be done.’
Seeing her distress, her father took her hand, and pressed it kindly.‘My dear,’ said Sir Thomas, ‘I know your attachment to the avenue, but we have brought Mr Crawford here to
give us his advice. There can be no use in that if we do not take it when it is given.’
‘Did not I hear that you did some thing similar at Compton, Crawford?’ asked Mr Rushworth in a complacent accent. ‘Cut down some twisted old trees near the house? I am often
asked for my opinion on such matters, and on this occasion, I was forced to acknowledge (though rather against the bias of my inclination, I confess) that it appeared to have been some thing of a
success. That horrid dark house at Compton has become almost liveable.’
Miss Price turned at once to her uncle. ‘I hope you will consider Mr Rushworth’s proposition, sir,’ she said. ‘Those gloomy old trees quite overwhelm the view from my
room. Julia’s silly girlish attachment to them cannot be allowed to compromise the comfort of everyone else in the house.’
She spoke in a cross tone quite unlike her usual simper, which Mary took as proof that discontent and jealousy had made her briefly forgetful of the appearance of demure and tender sensibility
she normally studied to affect. The effect of her words on Julia was equally apparent; it pained Mary to see that the girl had turned of a death-like paleness, and was too intent on suppressing her
agitation to eat or speak any thing more.
‘I quite agree with you, Fanny,’ said Mrs Norris quickly. ‘Indeed, I was saying much the same to Lady Bertram only this evening. At fourteen Julia is in far too many respects
exactly as she was at ten. Running about wild in the woods, tearing her clothes, and indulging in all manner of juvenile whims. If you had seen her in the drawing-room the
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