Mansfield park how many chapters

In contrast, Mrs. Price's marriage to a lowly sailor serves as a warning to young women about making rash decisions regarding marriage. Lady Bertram sleeps most of the day, and lets others raise her children. Norris is a nagging, miserly witch, while Mrs. Price winds up with an unemployed, drunken husband, and is finally forced to reach out for help during her ninth pregnancy. Although it appears that Lady Bertram and Mrs. Norris want to help their sister by bringing Fanny to Mansfield Park, they are very careful to ensure that Fanny does not have the privileges accorded to the Bertram children.

It seems that, having made the social leap themselves, they will go to great lengths to keep the British class system in place. In their eyes, Fanny isn't good enough to climb the social ladder. Mansfield Park appears to critique the system of primogeniture, the first-born son's right to inherit the entirety of their parents' estate.

The younger sons were forced to "do something" for themselves, and usually found positions in the army, the navy, the law, or the clergy. Girls were viewed as financial assets only when they "married to advantage. The Bertram sisters will be expected to marry within their own social strata. Austen uses the character of Tom Bertram to expound upon the problems inherent in this system.

Tom's excessive spending causes his father great financial hardship - so much so that Sir Thomas himself must travel to Antigua to manage his investments instead of sending an agent. Sir Thomas cannot afford to hold the parsonage position open for Edmund, who has not yet been ordained a minister, and is forced to allow Dr. Grant to take the job. Clearly, Austen believes that this restrictive system is problematic for all parties involved.

Although the Antigua plantation does not seem important at first, it provides a great deal of income for the family, allowing them to live an aristocratic lifestyle. It should be remembered that the family's fancy silk and lace dresses, elaborate balls, ornate carriages, London houses, country mansions, servants by the dozen, chapels, lap dogs, china tea cups, expensive furnishings, and piano fortes are all paid for through the trade and transport of such commodities as sugar, coffee, and rum - all products of Caribbean Islands such as Antigua.

In short, it is slave labor that pays for the family's life of leisure, contemplation, good manners, and luxury. In addition, in this era the financial worth and yearly incomes of people were common knowledge. Thus Maria Ward, "with only seven thousand pounds," is fortunate to marry Sir Thomas, and Mary Crawford, with twenty-thousand pounds to her name, would indeed be an ideal financial match for Edmund, the poor second son.

Many eighteenth-century novels utilize the dichotomy between city and country life. In Mansfield Park , Austen uses the meeting between the Country Bertrams and the City Crawfords to highlight the discrepancy between the two regions. The London lady, Mary, is out of touch with the rural needs of the farmers. They must harvest their grain at any cost, and become upset when Mary insists on using one of their wagons to transport her harp.

She fails to understand that she cannot have her way if the farmers are to have enough food to last them the winter. Edmund is put off by Mary's selfish attitude, as is Fanny, but Edmund's attraction to Mary causes him to abandon his better judgment.

Like Mary, Henry Crawford demonstrates an almost total ignorance of the realities of rural life. He is heir to an estate, but fails to attend to his properties and tenants. Simply put, the arrival of the Crawfords is intended to highlight the clash between the traditional values found at Mansfield Park and the "new ways" of London life.

Norris, they become "infected" by the city dwellers' loose morals. The Question and Answer section for Mansfield Park is a great resource to ask questions, find answers, and discuss the novel. What was the behavior of Bertram's children towards Fanny? Miss Augusta ought not to have been noticed for the next six months; and Miss Sneyd, I believe, has never forgiven me. Poor Miss Sneyd. Though I have no younger sister, I feel for her. Miss Augusta should have been with her governess.

Such half-and-half doings never prosper. But now I must be satisfied about Miss Price. Does she go to balls? My mother seldom goes into company herself, and dines nowhere but with Mrs.

Grant, and Fanny stays at home with her. Bertram set off for————, and Miss Crawford was prepared to find a great chasm in their society, and to miss him decidedly in the meetings which were now becoming almost daily between the families; and on their all dining together at the Park soon after his going, she retook her chosen place near the bottom of the table, fully expecting to feel a most melancholy difference in the change of masters.

It would be a very flat business, she was sure. In comparison with his brother, Edmund would have nothing to say. He had been visiting a friend in the neighbouring county, and that friend having recently had his grounds laid out by an improver, Mr.

Rushworth was returned with his head full of the subject, and very eager to be improving his own place in the same way; and though not saying much to the purpose, could talk of nothing else. The subject had been already handled in the drawing-room; it was revived in the dining-parlour. I never saw a place so altered in my life.

I told Smith I did not know where I was. The approach now , is one of the finest things in the country: you see the house in the most surprising manner. I declare, when I got back to Sotherton yesterday, it looked like a prison—quite a dismal old prison. Sotherton Court is the noblest old place in the world. I never saw a place that wanted so much improvement in my life; and it is so forlorn that I do not know what can be done with it.

Grant to Mrs. I hope I shall have some good friend to help me. Repton, I imagine. As he has done so well by Smith, I think I had better have him at once.

His terms are five guineas a day. The expense need not be any impediment. If I were you, I should not think of the expense.

I would have everything done in the best style, and made as nice as possible. Such a place as Sotherton Court deserves everything that taste and money can do.

You have space to work upon there, and grounds that will well reward you. For my own part, if I had anything within the fiftieth part of the size of Sotherton, I should be always planting and improving, for naturally I am excessively fond of it. It would be too ridiculous for me to attempt anything where I am now, with my little half acre. It would be quite a burlesque. But if I had more room, I should take a prodigious delight in improving and planting.

We did a vast deal in that way at the Parsonage: we made it quite a different place from what it was when we first had it. You young ones do not remember much about it, perhaps; but if dear Sir Thomas were here, he could tell you what improvements we made: and a great deal more would have been done, but for poor Mr.

He could hardly ever get out, poor man, to enjoy anything, and that disheartened me from doing several things that Sir Thomas and I used to talk of. If it had not been for that , we should have carried on the garden wall, and made the plantation to shut out the churchyard, just as Dr. Grant has done. We were always doing something as it was. It was only the spring twelvemonth before Mr.

It is an insipid fruit at the best; but a good apricot is eatable, which none from my garden are. Grant, pretending to whisper across the table to Mrs. Grant hardly knows what the natural taste of our apricot is: he is scarcely ever indulged with one, for it is so valuable a fruit; with a little assistance, and ours is such a remarkably large, fair sort, that what with early tarts and preserves, my cook contrives to get them all. Norris, who had begun to redden, was appeased; and, for a little while, other subjects took place of the improvements of Sotherton.

Grant and Mrs. Norris were seldom good friends; their acquaintance had begun in dilapidations, and their habits were totally dissimilar. After a short interruption Mr. Rushworth began again. I think I shall have Repton. One likes to get out into a shrubbery in fine weather. Rushworth was eager to assure her ladyship of his acquiescence, and tried to make out something complimentary; but, between his submission to her taste, and his having always intended the same himself, with the superadded objects of professing attention to the comfort of ladies in general, and of insinuating that there was one only whom he was anxious to please, he grew puzzled, and Edmund was glad to put an end to his speech by a proposal of wine.

Rushworth, however, though not usually a great talker, had still more to say on the subject next his heart.

Now, at Sotherton we have a good seven hundred, without reckoning the water meadows; so that I think, if so much could be done at Compton, we need not despair. But Miss Bertram thought it most becoming to reply—. Fanny, who was sitting on the other side of Edmund, exactly opposite Miss Crawford, and who had been attentively listening, now looked at him, and said in a low voice—.

What a pity! Does it not make you think of Cowper? No, you never can; and, unluckily, it is out of distance for a ride. I wish we could contrive it. Whenever I do see it, you will tell me how it has been altered. In any particular style of building? It is ill placed. It stands in one of the lowest spots of the park; in that respect, unfavourable for improvement. But the woods are fine, and there is a stream, which, I dare say, might be made a good deal of. Rushworth is quite right, I think, in meaning to give it a modern dress, and I have no doubt that it will be all done extremely well.

I would rather have an inferior degree of beauty, of my own choice, and acquired progressively. I would rather abide by my own blunders than by his.

I have no eye or ingenuity for such matters, but as they are before me; and had I a place of my own in the country, I should be most thankful to any Mr. Repton who would undertake it, and give me as much beauty as he could for my money; and I should never look at it till it was complete. It was no part of my education; and the only dose I ever had, being administered by not the first favourite in the world, has made me consider improvements in hand as the greatest of nuisances.

Three years ago the Admiral, my honoured uncle, bought a cottage at Twickenham for us all to spend our summers in; and my aunt and I went down to it quite in raptures; but it being excessively pretty, it was soon found necessary to be improved, and for three months we were all dirt and confusion, without a gravel walk to step on, or a bench fit for use.

I would have everything as complete as possible in the country, shrubberies and flower-gardens, and rustic seats innumerable: but it must all be done without my care. Henry is different; he loves to be doing. Edmund was sorry to hear Miss Crawford, whom he was much disposed to admire, speak so freely of her uncle. It did not suit his sense of propriety, and he was silenced, till induced by further smiles and liveliness to put the matter by for the present. I am assured that it is safe at Northampton; and there it has probably been these ten days, in spite of the solemn assurances we have so often received to the contrary.

Not by a wagon or cart: oh no! I might as well have asked for porters and a handbarrow. To want a horse and cart in the country seemed impossible, so I told my maid to speak for one directly; and as I cannot look out of my dressing-closet without seeing one farmyard, nor walk in the shrubbery without passing another, I thought it would be only ask and have, and was rather grieved that I could not give the advantage to all.

Guess my surprise, when I found that I had been asking the most unreasonable, most impossible thing in the world; had offended all the farmers, all the labourers, all the hay in the parish!

As for Dr. The hire of a cart at any time might not be so easy as you suppose: our farmers are not in the habit of letting them out; but, in harvest, it must be quite out of their power to spare a horse. However, I am to have my harp fetched to-morrow. Henry, who is good-nature itself, has offered to fetch it in his barouche. Will it not be honourably conveyed? Edmund spoke of the harp as his favourite instrument, and hoped to be soon allowed to hear her.

Fanny had never heard the harp at all, and wished for it very much. Now, Mr. Bertram, if you write to your brother, I entreat you to tell him that my harp is come: he heard so much of my misery about it. And you may say, if you please, that I shall prepare my most plaintive airs against his return, in compassion to his feelings, as I know his horse will lose.

The occasion would never be foreseen. What strange creatures brothers are! You would not write to each other but upon the most urgent necessity in the world; and when obliged to take up the pen to say that such a horse is ill, or such a relation dead, it is done in the fewest possible words.

You have but one style among you. I know it perfectly. Bath seems full, and everything as usual. Yours sincerely. Miss Crawford civilly wished him an early promotion. You have a large acquaintance in the navy, I conclude? Post-captains may be very good sort of men, but they do not belong to us.

Of various admirals I could tell you a great deal: of them and their flags, and the gradation of their pay, and their bickerings and jealousies. But, in general, I can assure you that they are all passed over, and all very ill used.

Of Rears and Vices I saw enough. Now do not be suspecting me of a pun, I entreat. It has never worn an amiable form to me. The subject of improving grounds, meanwhile, was still under consideration among the others; and Mrs.

Grant could not help addressing her brother, though it was calling his attention from Miss Julia Bertram. You have been an improver yourself, and from what I hear of Everingham, it may vie with any place in England.

Its natural beauties, I am sure, are great. Everingham, as it used to be, was perfect in my estimation: such a happy fall of ground, and such timber! What would I not give to see it again! In extent, it is a mere nothing; you would be surprised at its insignificance; and, as for improvement, there was very little for me to do—too little: I should like to have been busy much longer.

My plan was laid at Westminster, a little altered, perhaps, at Cambridge, and at one-and-twenty executed. I am inclined to envy Mr. Rushworth for having so much happiness yet before him. I have been a devourer of my own. Instead of envying Mr.

Rushworth, you should assist him with your opinion. Rushworth was very ready to request the favour of Mr. Crawford, after properly depreciating his own abilities, was quite at his service in any way that could be useful. Rushworth then began to propose Mr. Crawford away, interposed with an amendment. Why should not we make a little party?

Here are many that would be interested in your improvements, my dear Mr. Rushworth, and that would like to hear Mr. Rushworth, while the rest of you walked about and settled things, and then we could all return to a late dinner here, or dine at Sotherton, just as might be most agreeable to your mother, and have a pleasant drive home by moonlight.

I dare say Mr. Crawford would take my two nieces and me in his barouche, and Edmund can go on horseback, you know, sister, and Fanny will stay at home with you. Lady Bertram made no objection; and every one concerned in the going was forward in expressing their ready concurrence, excepting Edmund, who heard it all and said nothing.

I like to hear her talk. She entertains me; and she is so extremely pretty, that I have great pleasure in looking at her. She has a wonderful play of feature! But was there nothing in her conversation that struck you, Fanny, as not quite right? I was quite astonished. An uncle with whom she has been living so many years, and who, whatever his faults may be, is so very fond of her brother, treating him, they say, quite like a son.

I could not have believed it! She is awkwardly circumstanced. With such warm feelings and lively spirits it must be difficult to do justice to her affection for Mrs.

Crawford, without throwing a shade on the Admiral. I do not censure her opinions ; but there certainly is impropriety in making them public. Crawford, as her niece has been entirely brought up by her?

She cannot have given her right notions of what was due to the Admiral. Yes, we must suppose the faults of the niece to have been those of the aunt; and it makes one more sensible of the disadvantages she has been under. But I think her present home must do her good. She speaks of her brother with a very pleasing affection.

She made me almost laugh; but I cannot rate so very highly the love or good-nature of a brother who will not give himself the trouble of writing anything worth reading to his sisters, when they are separated.

I am sure William would never have used me so, under any circumstances. And what right had she to suppose that you would not write long letters when you were absent? She is perfectly feminine, except in the instances we have been speaking of. There she cannot be justified. I am glad you saw it all as I did. Having formed her mind and gained her affections, he had a good chance of her thinking like him; though at this period, and on this subject, there began now to be some danger of dissimilarity, for he was in a line of admiration of Miss Crawford, which might lead him where Fanny could not follow.

The harp arrived, and rather added to her beauty, wit, and good-humour; for she played with the greatest obligingness, with an expression and taste which were peculiarly becoming, and there was something clever to be said at the close of every air.

Edmund was at the Parsonage every day, to be indulged with his favourite instrument: one morning secured an invitation for the next; for the lady could not be unwilling to have a listener, and every thing was soon in a fair train.

The season, the scene, the air, were all favourable to tenderness and sentiment. Grant and her tambour frame were not without their use: it was all in harmony; and as everything will turn to account when love is once set going, even the sandwich tray, and Dr. Grant doing the honours of it, were worth looking at.

Without studying the business, however, or knowing what he was about, Edmund was beginning, at the end of a week of such intercourse, to be a good deal in love; and to the credit of the lady it may be added that, without his being a man of the world or an elder brother, without any of the arts of flattery or the gaieties of small talk, he began to be agreeable to her.

She felt it to be so, though she had not foreseen, and could hardly understand it; for he was not pleasant by any common rule: he talked no nonsense; he paid no compliments; his opinions were unbending, his attentions tranquil and simple. There was a charm, perhaps, in his sincerity, his steadiness, his integrity, which Miss Crawford might be equal to feel, though not equal to discuss with herself.

She did not think very much about it, however: he pleased her for the present; she liked to have him near her; it was enough. Fanny could not wonder that Edmund was at the Parsonage every morning; she would gladly have been there too, might she have gone in uninvited and unnoticed, to hear the harp; neither could she wonder that, when the evening stroll was over, and the two families parted again, he should think it right to attend Mrs. Grant and her sister to their home, while Mr.

Crawford was devoted to the ladies of the Park; but she thought it a very bad exchange; and if Edmund were not there to mix the wine and water for her, would rather go without it than not. She was a little surprised that he could spend so many hours with Miss Crawford, and not see more of the sort of fault which he had already observed, and of which she was almost always reminded by a something of the same nature whenever she was in her company; but so it was.

Edmund was fond of speaking to her of Miss Crawford, but he seemed to think it enough that the Admiral had since been spared; and she scrupled to point out her own remarks to him, lest it should appear like ill-nature. The mare was only to be taken down to the Parsonage half an hour before her ride were to begin; and Fanny, on its being first proposed, so far from feeling slighted, was almost over-powered with gratitude that he should be asking her leave for it.

Miss Crawford made her first essay with great credit to herself, and no inconvenience to Fanny. Edmund, who had taken down the mare and presided at the whole, returned with it in excellent time, before either Fanny or the steady old coachman, who always attended her when she rode without her cousins, were ready to set forward.

Fanny was ready and waiting, and Mrs. Norris was beginning to scold her for not being gone, and still no horse was announced, no Edmund appeared. To avoid her aunt, and look for him, she went out. The houses, though scarcely half a mile apart, were not within sight of each other; but, by walking fifty yards from the hall door, she could look down the park, and command a view of the Parsonage and all its demesnes, gently rising beyond the village road; and in Dr.

Grant, and Mr. Crawford, with two or three grooms, standing about and looking on. A happy party it appeared to her, all interested in one object: cheerful beyond a doubt, for the sound of merriment ascended even to her. It was a sound which did not make her cheerful; she wondered that Edmund should forget her, and felt a pang.

She could not turn her eyes from the meadow; she could not help watching all that passed. After a few minutes they stopped entirely. Edmund was close to her; he was speaking to her; he was evidently directing her management of the bridle; he had hold of her hand; she saw it, or the imagination supplied what the eye could not reach.

She must not wonder at all this; what could be more natural than that Edmund should be making himself useful, and proving his good-nature by any one?

She could not but think, indeed, that Mr. Crawford might as well have saved him the trouble; that it would have been particularly proper and becoming in a brother to have done it himself; but Mr. Crawford, with all his boasted good-nature, and all his coachmanship, probably knew nothing of the matter, and had no active kindness in comparison of Edmund. She began to think it rather hard upon the mare to have such double duty; if she were forgotten, the poor mare should be remembered.

Her feelings for one and the other were soon a little tranquillised by seeing the party in the meadow disperse, and Miss Crawford still on horseback, but attended by Edmund on foot, pass through a gate into the lane, and so into the park, and make towards the spot where she stood.

She began then to be afraid of appearing rude and impatient; and walked to meet them with a great anxiety to avoid the suspicion. Selfishness must always be forgiven, you know, because there is no hope of a cure. I wish you may not be fatigued by so much exercise. I wish you had saved yourself this walk home. Nothing ever fatigues me but doing what I do not like. Miss Price, I give way to you with a very bad grace; but I sincerely hope you will have a pleasant ride, and that I may have nothing but good to hear of this dear, delightful, beautiful animal.

She did not seem to have a thought of fear. Very different from you, miss, when you first began, six years ago come next Easter. Lord bless you! In the drawing-room Miss Crawford was also celebrated. Her merit in being gifted by Nature with strength and courage was fully appreciated by the Miss Bertrams; her delight in riding was like their own; her early excellence in it was like their own, and they had great pleasure in praising it.

I cannot but think that good horsemanship has a great deal to do with the mind. She has a great desire to get as far as Mansfield Common: Mrs. Grant has been telling her of its fine views, and I have no doubt of her being perfectly equal to it. But any morning will do for this. She would be extremely sorry to interfere with you. It would be very wrong if she did. She rides only for pleasure; you for health. You know I am strong enough now to walk very well.

A successful scheme of this sort generally brings on another; and the having been to Mansfield Common disposed them all for going somewhere else the day after.

There were many other views to be shewn; and though the weather was hot, there were shady lanes wherever they wanted to go. A young party is always provided with a shady lane. Four fine mornings successively were spent in this manner, in shewing the Crawfords the country, and doing the honours of its finest spots.

Everything answered; it was all gaiety and good-humour, the heat only supplying inconvenience enough to be talked of with pleasure—till the fourth day, when the happiness of one of the party was exceedingly clouded. Miss Bertram was the one. Edmund and Julia were invited to dine at the Parsonage, and she was excluded. It was meant and done by Mrs. Grant, with perfect good-humour, on Mr. As Mr. Rushworth did not come, the injury was increased, and she had not even the relief of shewing her power over him; she could only be sullen to her mother, aunt, and cousin, and throw as great a gloom as possible over their dinner and dessert.

Between ten and eleven Edmund and Julia walked into the drawing-room, fresh with the evening air, glowing and cheerful, the very reverse of what they found in the three ladies sitting there, for Maria would scarcely raise her eyes from her book, and Lady Bertram was half-asleep; and even Mrs. Is she gone to bed? Her own gentle voice speaking from the other end of the room, which was a very long one, told them that she was on the sofa.

Norris began scolding. Why cannot you come and sit here, and employ yourself as we do? If you have no work of your own, I can supply you from the poor basket. There is all the new calico, that was bought last week, not touched yet. I am sure I almost broke my back by cutting it out. You should learn to think of other people; and, take my word for it, it is a shocking trick for a young person to be always lolling upon a sofa. How long have you had it? Were not we all out? Even your mother was out to-day for above an hour.

I sat three-quarters of an hour in the flower-garden, while Fanny cut the roses; and very pleasant it was, I assure you, but very hot. It was shady enough in the alcove, but I declare I quite dreaded the coming home again.

Poor thing! She found it hot enough; but they were so full-blown that one could not wait. There is nothing so likely to give it as standing and stooping in a hot sun; but I dare say it will be well to-morrow. Suppose you let her have your aromatic vinegar; I always forget to have mine filled. No wonder her head aches. Jefferies about his son, and the poor fellow was waiting for me half an hour. I think nobody can justly accuse me of sparing myself upon any occasion, but really I cannot do everything at once.

How often do I pace it three times a day, early and late, ay, and in all weathers too, and say nothing about it? She has not been out on horseback now this long while, and I am persuaded that, when she does not ride, she ought to walk.

If she had been riding before, I should not have asked it of her. But I thought it would rather do her good after being stooping among the roses; for there is nothing so refreshing as a walk after a fatigue of that kind; and though the sun was strong, it was not so very hot.

It was as much as I could bear myself. Sitting and calling to Pug, and trying to keep him from the flower-beds, was almost too much for me. Edmund said no more to either lady; but going quietly to another table, on which the supper-tray yet remained, brought a glass of Madeira to Fanny, and obliged her to drink the greater part. She wished to be able to decline it; but the tears, which a variety of feelings created, made it easier to swallow than to speak.

Vexed as Edmund was with his mother and aunt, he was still more angry with himself. His own forgetfulness of her was worse than anything which they had done. Nothing of this would have happened had she been properly considered; but she had been left four days together without any choice of companions or exercise, and without any excuse for avoiding whatever her unreasonable aunts might require.

Fanny went to bed with her heart as full as on the first evening of her arrival at the Park. The state of her spirits had probably had its share in her indisposition; for she had been feeling neglected, and been struggling against discontent and envy for some days past. While she was gone Mr. Rushworth arrived, escorting his mother, who came to be civil and to shew her civility especially, in urging the execution of the plan for visiting Sotherton, which had been started a fortnight before, and which, in consequence of her subsequent absence from home, had since lain dormant.

Norris and her nieces were all well pleased with its revival, and an early day was named and agreed to, provided Mr. Crawford should be disengaged: the young ladies did not forget that stipulation, and though Mrs. Norris would willingly have answered for his being so, they would neither authorise the liberty nor run the risk; and at last, on a hint from Miss Bertram, Mr. Rushworth discovered that the properest thing to be done was for him to walk down to the Parsonage directly, and call on Mr.

Crawford, and inquire whether Wednesday would suit him or not. Before his return Mrs. Grant and Miss Crawford came in. Having been out some time, and taken a different route to the house, they had not met him. Comfortable hopes, however, were given that he would find Mr. Crawford at home. The Sotherton scheme was mentioned of course.

It was hardly possible, indeed, that anything else should be talked of, for Mrs. Norris was in high spirits about it; and Mrs. Lady Bertram constantly declined it; but her placid manner of refusal made Mrs. Rushworth still think she wished to come, till Mrs.

Ten miles there, and ten back, you know. You must excuse my sister on this occasion, and accept of our two dear girls and myself without her. Sotherton is the only place that could give her a wish to go so far, but it cannot be, indeed. She will have a companion in Fanny Price, you know, so it will all do very well; and as for Edmund, as he is not here to speak for himself, I will answer for his being most happy to join the party.

He can go on horseback, you know. She has time enough before her; and her going now is quite out of the question. Lady Bertram could not possibly spare her. Rushworth proceeded next, under the conviction that everybody must be wanting to see Sotherton, to include Miss Crawford in the invitation; and though Mrs. Grant, who had not been at the trouble of visiting Mrs.

Rushworth, on her coming into the neighbourhood, civilly declined it on her own account, she was glad to secure any pleasure for her sister; and Mary, properly pressed and persuaded, was not long in accepting her share of the civility. Rushworth came back from the Parsonage successful; and Edmund made his appearance just in time to learn what had been settled for Wednesday, to attend Mrs.

Rushworth to her carriage, and walk half-way down the park with the two other ladies. On his return to the breakfast-room, he found Mrs. The Miss Bertrams laughed at the idea, assuring her that the barouche would hold four perfectly well, independent of the box, on which one might go with him. I could not, when the scheme was first mentioned the other day, understand why a visit from the family were not to be made in the carriage of the family.

No, my dear Edmund, that will not quite do. Crawford depends upon taking us. After what passed at first, he would claim it as a promise. I will answer for it that we shall find no inconvenience from narrow roads on Wednesday.

I believe it would be generally thought the favourite seat. Probably Miss Crawford will choose the barouche-box herself. She stays with her aunt. I told Mrs. Rushworth so. She is not expected. If you could do without her, you would not wish to keep her at home? There was a general cry out at this. Fanny has a great desire to see Sotherton. I know she wishes it very much. Norris blames the entire situation on Fanny's rejection of Henry. Lady Bertram gives Fanny a fuller account of the situation: Sir Thomas had been informed of Maria's flirtations by an old friend and had been about to go to London to intervene when Maria and Henry disappeared.

Servants had been involved in the elopement and now are threatening to make events public. The shock of all of this has caused Tom Bertram to relapse into illness. The possibility of a match between Edmund and Mary has now disappeared, to Sir Thomas's dismay. Fanny must wait a few days before she has a chance to talk to Edmund about Mary.

When she does, she finds out that Edmund went to see Mary immediately after Maria and Henry's disappearance, under the pretense of saying goodbye. He was horrified when Mary justified the runaways' conduct and began making plans for their societal rehabilitation. Mary, like Mrs. Norris, blames Fanny for rejecting Henry and causing the situation. In the course of the conversation, Edmund at last revealed to Mary his feelings for her, then told her in no uncertain terms what he thought of her character.

Fanny is relieved that Mary has lost her hold over Edmund, and she finally gives her own opinion of Mary. She also tells Edmund that Mary wished for his brother's death for her own benefit. Edmund declares that he will never love another woman, and he tells Fanny that her friendship is all he has left. The book concludes quickly. Mansfield Park slowly returns to normal.

Sir Thomas is hard on himself for having allowed Maria to marry Rushworth. Julia asks for forgiveness, and she and Yates, who have married, are accepted into the family and seem eager to reform. Tom recovers his health and, changed by his experience, becomes a quiet, dependable young man. Edmund slowly regains his spirits, thanks to Fanny's company. Sir Thomas thinks over his errors in raising his children. Maria and Henry continue to live together, she hoping that they will marry.

Eventually, they begin to quarrel; they separate. Rushworth has already divorced her. Norris advocates allowing Maria back at Mansfield; when this is denied, Mrs. Norris and Maria leave for continental Europe, where they set up a quarrelsome little household. Sir Thomas is glad to have Mrs. Norris gone.

The Grants, ashamed by the behavior of Henry who is Mrs. Grant's brother , also leave Mansfield, as Dr. Grant has just gotten a position at Westminster. Mary goes to live with them, and has a hard time getting over Edmund.