Fanny was the only one of the party who found anything to dislike. But since the day at Sotherton, she could never see Mr. Crawford with either sister without suspicion, and seldom without wonder or censure. But her confidence in her own judgment was lacking. Had she been more certain, she would probably have communicated it to her usual confidant. As it was, she only hazarded a hint, and the hint was lost.

“I am rather surprised,” said she, “that Mr. Crawford should come back again so soon, after being here so long before, full seven weeks. If he is so very fond of change and moving about, why is he not elsewhere? He is used to much gayer places than Mansfield.”

“It is to his credit,” was Edmund’s answer; “and I dare say it gives his sister pleasure. She does not like his unsettled habits.”

“What a favourite he is with my cousins! It is rather uncanny, and one dares say, unnatural.”

“Yes, his manners to women are such as must please. Mrs. Grant, I believe, suspects him of a preference for Julia; I have never seen a symptom of it, but I wish it may be so. He has no faults but what a serious attachment would remove.”

“If Miss Bertram were not engaged,” said Fanny cautiously, “I could sometimes almost think that he admired her more than Julia.”

“Which is, perhaps, more in favour of his liking Julia best, than you, Fanny, may be aware. A man, before he has quite made up his own mind, will often distinguish the sister or intimate friend of the woman he is really thinking of more than the woman herself. Crawford has too much sense to stay here if he found himself in any danger from Maria. I am not at all afraid for her. She has given proof that her feelings are not strong.”

Fanny supposed she must have been mistaken, and meant to think differently in future, but she remained unsure.

The supernatural situation at Mansfield meanwhile continued to develop, and took a rather interesting turn. At one point Lady Bertram made it obvious to all that they now had yet another visitor in the house—a certain young gentleman by the name of Lord Eastwind. Who he was exactly, had never been made clear; a certain distant relation of Sir Thomas, perhaps, or maybe the son of a colleague from Parliament, or possibly even an expert on Egyptology attending from the London Museum upon Lady Bertram’s hobbyist pleasure.

Whatever or whoever he was, Lord Eastwind was introduced at dinner one evening, as he came downstairs with Lady Bertram upon his arm, dressed very well in the way of latest London fashion, with a striking face, and cutting a dashing figure, yet somehow, after the initial introductions, going almost unnoticed by everyone in the room. It was almost as if he decreed and intended it to be so.