From about the time of her entering the family, Lady Bertram, in consequence of her peculiar ill-health, a whiff of supernatural possession, and a great deal of indolence, gave up the house in town (which she used to occupy every spring), and remained wholly in the country, leaving Sir Thomas to attend his duty in Parliament, with whatever increase or diminution of comfort might arise from her absence. In the country, therefore, the Miss Bertrams continued to exercise their memories with hieroglyphics, practise their duets, ignore the drawing room museum clutter, and grow tall and womanly.

Their father saw them becoming in person, manner, and accomplishments, everything that could satisfy his anxiety. His eldest son was careless and extravagant, and had already given him much uneasiness with decidedly idiotic schemes; but his other children promised him nothing but good. His daughters, he felt, while they retained the name of Bertram, must be giving it new grace, and in quitting it, he trusted, would extend its respectable alliances. And the character of Edmund, his strong good sense and uprightness of mind, bid most fairly for utility, honour, and happiness to himself and all his connexions. He was to be a clergyman.

“My dear cousin Fanny,” Edmund took her aside at one point, to better explain his future position, “as you recall, our discussion of the—ahem—early days, when I mentioned a certain Curse. I had, in that day, used the word Wonder alongside the word Abomination. And that is because my firmness of faith and my purpose in life have been clarified and ultimately decided for me, and I knew even then what I must do—I must serve God with all my heart, and in that service I will find a way to rid my mother, my family, all of Mansfield Park, of this evil that is secretly upon us, leeching away my mother’s strength and will to live, my brother’s wits and common sense, and making my sisters shallow and insensitive to the plight of yourself and so many others. As a member of God’s Holy Clergy, in His Great Name, I shall overcome, and I shall Exorcise the devil from this house. Pray, tell no one of this, of my true reasons, Fanny, I beg you. Nay, I know I need not beg, no need to ask, for your heart is true and you feel with all of your being, and you know what must be done indeed.”

“I understand, Edmund,” she replied. And then she took a deep breath, and with all her resolve and inner strength, and because she had looked into his dear eyes, she offered: “If you must have assistance in this, you can count on me, every day, you know.”

“I know.” Edmund leaned forward and placed his large warm hands around her own trembling fingers—for a moment, only. And then he stepped away.

And that instant Fanny would not forget.