Mrs. Norris was, in her own way, as happy as she had ever been, for she was busy from morning ‘til night, living entirely at Mansfield Park, directing the servants, ordering the dinners, and supervising the sewing of the costumes and curtains. She also felt it was necessary for her to stay at Lady Bertram’s side in the event that doleful news arrived concerning Sir Thomas—perhaps he would perish at sea, or be stricken by the fevers and distempers which carried away so many of his countrymen in tropical climes—and in such case, she, Lady Bertram’s elder sister, would naturally be the rod and staff of the stricken family. She was confiding some of her gloomier prognostications to Mrs. Grant, who was sitting with Lady Bertram and Mrs. Norris after the conclusion of a rehearsal of the first act of the play, while Fanny, quite forgotten, was stitching on Anhalt’s costume by candlelight at her own little worktable.
For a young girl, every trifling thing connected with one’s beloved transmits pleasure, so the thought that she held in her hands a garment to be worn by Edmund gave her a sweet sensation, mixed with sorrow, that she would not have exchanged for the world. So abstracted was she in her thoughts, it was in fact a wonder that some portion of the conversation of the ladies attracted her notice.
“Dr. Grant tells me the price of sugar has now fallen so low, that it is now considerably below what would repay the grower for his cost to make the sugar and bring it to market. What a shame for Sir Thomas! He has laboured so hard, away from home, yet these events conspire against him, do they not?”
“Yes, indeed, Mrs. Grant,” answered Mrs. Norris, leaning forward and speaking in a loud whisper, with a nod of her head toward Lady Bertram, who lay, half asleep, on her settee, “I heard the same. There is a glut on the market—that is what they call it—too much sugar; and in addition, with the recent prohibition on importing new labourers from Africa, the future prosperity of the West Indies plantations is very much in doubt.”
“Dear me! But I’m sure that Sir Thomas—”
“If he should return alive, he must come down with the marriage portion for Maria, of course, and fit up Edmund for his ordination—his new home at Thornton Lacey must be got into readiness—you will see now, my dear Mrs. Grant, why I am so particular about making what little economies we can at Mansfield and have done everything in my power to curb any waste or unnecessary expense.”
“No doubt they are all very obliged to you, ma’am.”
“I do not consider that, of course, for who else should I assist but my own sister and her family? I have told Lady Bertram that, as I have no children of my own, whatever I have been able to put away every year is for her dear children, but little did I imagine that the time might come when my paltry widow’s mite would be so needful!”
“Matters are not so bad as all that, surely? The price of sugar may rise again? And the family is in general well provided for, I trust. There would be his income from the rents?”
“But, with his prolonged absence,” countered Mrs. Norris, unable to give way to any ray of hope, “you may be sure his tenants are behindhand and dear Tom and Edmund are too good-natured— the returns will not be enough to meet the expenses of maintaining the estate.”
“Pray, sister, do not distress yourself,” said Lady Bertram drowsily, having half-awakened and hearing the word ‘rent.’ “Sir Thomas will never require you to pay any rent on the White house, not so long as you have need of it.”
“No doubt, Lady Bertram, the family of Sir Thomas Bertram can rely on his generosity and his prudence—you are all in the best of hands,” Mrs. Grant suggested, as Mrs. Norris was for a moment discomposed.
She rallied, however, and leaning forward again, said in a forceful, sibilant whisper, which carried to every corner of the room, “Of course, Sir Thomas is very capable, but what can even he do in the face of such calamities! Naturally Sir Thomas would not confide all the details of his financial burdens to me, and I am sure I am not one to pry, but there was the matter of poor Tom’s youthful follies, which amounted to a not inconsiderable debt, so that Sir Thomas was unable to do everything for Edmund that he intended—ahem—” and here Mrs. Norris recollected that it was this very circumstance which led to the living at Mansfield Park being settled on Dr. Grant, instead of being held for Edmund, something Sir Thomas, out of delicacy, would not have wished her to allude to before Mrs. Grant.
Mrs. Grant betrayed no consciousness, however, and Mrs. Norris resumed her catalogue of the family’s financial woes: “—and some years ago, he declared his intention to settle some funds on Fanny when she came of age, to enable her to live as a gentlewoman, so that promise
