Murder at Mansfield Park - Lynn Shepherd [122]
‘Well, if you do not wish to read, perhaps you have energy enough for conversation? Shall I fetch Mr Maddox? He says there is some thing he wishes to discuss with you. I’ll wager it’s about what is to be done with Mrs Norris— there have been messages going to and fro between him and the magistrate for the best part of a week. Mrs Baddeley told me she is to be shut up in a private establishment in another part of the country—some where remote and private, by all accounts, and with her own mad-doctor in constant attendance. If you ask me, she should have paid the price for what she did, but it appears she has quite lost her reason, and become quite raving, and Dr Grant says that even if there were a possibility of her ever standing trial, the jury would be forced to acquit her by reason of insanity. As you might imagine, Sir Thomas will not hear of a public asylum.’
‘I am not surprised at that. I have acquaintances in London who have visited Bedlam, and I would not wish even Mrs Norris incarcerated in such a terrible place. People make visits there as if it were some sort of human menagerie—they even take long sticks with them, so that they can provoke the poor mad inmates, purely for the sake of entertainment. It is unforgiveable. Sir Thomas would never permit such inhumane treatment, even for the murderess of his own daughter.’
Mrs Grant stood up and touched her sister on the shoulder. ‘You have become quite the daughter to him, these last few days.’
Mary blushed. ‘I think he wished, in the beginning, to thank me for what I have tried to do for the family, and especially for Julia. But since then we have spent more time in conversation, and have found we enjoy one another’s company.’
‘I am sure that you are more than half the reason why he seems to be becoming reconciled to Henry as a nephew.’
Mary shook her head. ‘I have scrupled to plead Henry’s cause directly—that is not my place. Sir Thomas knows I do not approve of what my brother has done, but I do believe Henry to be sincerely desirous of being really received into the Bertram family, and very much disposed to look up to Sir Thomas, and be guided by him. For his part, Sir Thomas has acknowledged to me that he feels he should bear some part of the blame for what happened—for the elopement, at least. He feels that he ought never to have agreed to the engagement with Edmund in the first place, and that in so doing he allowed himself to be governed by mercenary and worldly motives. He is too judicious to say so, and too mindful of the respect owing to the dead, but I think he had very little knowledge of the weak side of Fanny’s character, or the consequences that might ensue from the excessive indulgence and constant flattery she received from Mrs Norris. As for Henry, if he knew Sir Thomas as I now do, he would value him as a friend, as well as someone who might supply the place of the father we lost so long ago. Sir Thomas and I have talked together on many subjects, and he has always paid me the compliment of considering my opinions seriously, while correcting me most graciously where I have been mistaken. I admire him immensely.’
‘As he does you, no doubt. And as Mr Maddox does also,’ said Mrs Grant with a knowing look. ‘Good heavens! That gentleman will be wondering where I have got to! I will shew him into the garden, and fetch you some thing to drink from the kitchen. And then I must return to unpacking the new Wedgwood-ware. The pattern is pretty enough, in its way, but I think they might have allowed us rather larger leaves—one is almost forced to conclude that the woods about Birmingham must be blighted.’
Despite all her other cares, Mary could not but laugh at this, and she was still smiling a few minutes later when Maddox appeared, carrying a tray and a pitcher of spruce-beer.
‘I come bearing gifts,’ he said, ‘but I am not Greek, and you need not fear me.’
‘Timeo Danaos et dona ferentes. I did not know you read Virgil, Mr Maddox.’
‘And I did not know you read Latin, Miss Crawford. There is a good deal, I suspect, that we do not yet