Back Mansfield Park and Mummies
Chapters (57)
  1. REGENCY ERA PRAISE FOR…
  2. MANSFIELD PARK AND MUMMIES:
  3. Dedication
  4. MANSFIELD PARK AND MUMMIES
  5. Chapter I
  6. Chapter II
  7. Chapter III
  8. Chapter IV
  9. Chapter V
  10. Chapter VI
  11. Chapter VII
  12. Chapter VIII
  13. Chapter IX
  14. Chapter X
  15. Chapter XI
  16. Chapter XII
  17. Chapter XIII
  18. Chapter XIV
  19. Chapter XV
  20. Chapter XVI
  21. Chapter XVII
  22. Chapter XVIII
  23. Chapter XIX
  24. Chapter XX
  25. Chapter XXI
  26. Chapter XXII
  27. Chapter XXIII
  28. Chapter XXIV
  29. Chapter XXV
  30. Chapter XXVI
  31. Chapter XXVII
  32. Chapter XXVIII
  33. Chapter XXIX
  34. Chapter XXX
  35. Chapter XXXI
  36. Chapter XXXII
  37. Chapter XXXIII
  38. Chapter XXXIV
  39. Chapter XXXV
  40. Chapter XXXVI
  41. Chapter XXXVII
  42. Chapter XXXVIII
  43. Chapter XXXIX
  44. Chapter XL
  45. Chapter XLI
  46. Chapter XLII
  47. Chapter XLIII
  48. Chapter XLIV
  49. Chapter XLV
  50. Chapter XLVI
  51. Chapter XLVII
  52. Chapter XLVIII
  53. APPENDIX
  54. APPENDIX 2
  55. Author’s After-Note
  56. About the Harridan
  57. Scholarly Footnotes

“Indeed,” said the vampire. “That is why love and its more complex pursuit is so much more gratifying. But—no, I do Sir Thomas justice now. He is just what the head of such a family should be. Nay, in sober sadness, I believe I now love you all.”

And having said so, with a degree of tenderness and consciousness which Fanny had never seen in her before, she turned away for a moment, as though to compose herself.

Presently she said, with a playful smile, “I am now recovered. Let us, dear Fanny, sit down and be comfortable. As to scolding you, which I came fully intending to do, I have not the heart for it.”

And then, Miss Crawford smiled a brilliant, genuine, unusual smile and said, “Good, gentle Fanny! when I think of this being the last time of seeing you for I do not know how long, I feel it quite impossible to do anything but love you. Come, let us embrace! I feel very affectionately toward you!”

Fanny was affected despite herself. She had not foreseen anything of this, and her feelings could seldom withstand the melancholy influence of the word “last.” She cried as if she had loved Miss Crawford, knowing full well what she was, and even so she could not help the moisture welling in her eyes.

Another moment and she would have moved forward with open arms, to embrace the dark creature without fear, and merely from a fullness of pity. But suddenly there was a movement in the air, as though a hot wind blew in, out of nowhere, filling the East room with dryness of the desert and a distant ancient perfume of lotus. . . .

Lord Easwind stood before them, in his somber raiment of an elegant gentleman of the ton. He raised his hand in a gesture of caution, and said, “No, Fanny, stop!”

Fanny was frozen in shock.

“No,” he continued, looking at her with absolute earnestness. “You must not trust her now—not now, not ever. Do not embrace her darkness. For she means to deceive.”

“East Wind!” said Fanny, her mind in a whirlwind. “You have come back! Oh, I had been certain you were gone, I was so sure, that you had quit this sphere—”