Murder at Mansfield Park - Lynn Shepherd [20]
CHAPTER IV
As she dressed for dinner the following day, Mary struggled to achieve at least the appearance of composure; her brother might make such public shew of his own attachment as he chose, and not care for the consequences; Mary must be more guarded and more circumspect. And now that she was fully apprised of her own feelings, she was apprehensive lest Henry’s discernment or her sister’s shrewd eye might discover the truth; she did not know, in reality, whether it was her brother’s raillery she feared more, or the sisterly concern of Mrs Grant’s warm and affectionate heart.
For the time being, however, Mrs Grant seemed more concerned with the small cares and anxieties of her toilette. ‘What dreadful hot weather this is!’ she said, working away her fan as if for life, as the carriage made its way across the park. ‘It keeps one in a continual state of inelegance.’
‘We shall, at least, find the company somewhat enlivened this evening by the presence of another guest,’ remarked her husband, rather sourly. ‘A larger group is always preferable— tiny parties force one into constant exertion.’
As they approached the Park, they passed close by the stable-yard and coach-house.
‘Ha!’ cried Henry in delight. ‘The much-anticipated Rushworth must be here already! You were right, Mary, ’tis a barouche. And a very fine one, at that! Quite as gaudy and ostentatious as I expected. This is much better than I had dared to hope; I anticipate an evening of the keenest enjoyment.’
As it was, the parsonage party heard Mr Rushworth before they saw him, for the sound of his voice reached them even as the servant led them across the hall.
‘My dear Lady Bertram,’ he was saying loudly, ‘the insufferable dilatoriness one endures at their hands! The thousand disappointments and delays to which one is exposed! The trouble that is made over the slightest request, the tricks and stratagems that are employed to avoid the simplest tasks, make one quite despair. Only this morning I decided that blue was quite the wrong colour for the drawing-room and directed the painter that the entire room should be done again in pea-green. One would have thought that I had asked him to undertake one of the labours of Hercules.’ “For Heaven’s sake, man,” said I, “’tis nothing more than a little distemper—no more than half an hour’s work for a great lubberly fellow like you. Go to it, man! You will have it done before dinner-time!” But needless to say, when I left Sotherton two hours ago he was still there, on his hands and knees with a sponge and a pail of water. They have no capacity for diligence, Mrs Norris, no enthusiasm for honest toil!’
‘Oh! I can only agree with you, Mr Rushworth,’ simpered Mrs Norris, ‘and if he were here, my dear husband would concur most heartily. When we had the dining-parlour at the White House improved, we had to insist that the work was done over three times. I told Mr Norris not to pay them a shilling until we were completely satisfied with the results.’
Mr Rushworth was just beginning to commend Mrs Norris’s good management when the Grants and Crawfords made their entrance. When Mary was introduced he addressed her with affected civility, and gave a haughty bow and wave of the hand, which assured Henry, as plainly as words could have done, that he was exactly the coxcomb he had been hoping for. However, the smiles and pleased looks of those standing round him by the fire shewed that many of the family had already formed a completely contrary opinion. Mary soon observed that Miss Bertram looked particularly