Fanny was thrown into an immediate state of terror. If Mr. Crawford was indeed the gentleman in question, and coming here, then she could imagine nothing that might lend her the strength to face him. Indeed, she had no words, no emotions, nothing to say to him that was not beyond unbearable. What was she to do? At least there was Edmund, and her dear Susan, both here with her, to frankly talk about some of this.

In addition, there was a matter of him being married or not married to Maria. Such a difference either state would make for how he might chuse to address Fanny—perhaps even to renew his courtship of her (a thing truly intolerable at this point). While she was agonizing over the possibilities and planning her excuses to spend the following days hidden away from Mr. Crawford in the East room, the following morning brought a fair and rather wondrous resolution of all these agonies.

A fine carriage and four rolled up to the gates, and out came Maria followed by a tall, elegant, raven-haired gentleman of great handsomeness, fine dress, impeccable manners and—wonder-of-wonders—a welcome and inexplicable familiarity to everyone at Mansfield Park.

“Oh, Fanny! Oh, look! It’s Lord Eastwind!” Susan was the first to exclaim with joyful recognition, and her face lit up with childish excitement and rare happy memories of Portsmouth. Forgetting in a moment all her hard-studied decorum, she tugged at Fanny’s arm.

“Why, your Mummyship!” exclaimed Lady Bertram in genuine delight—for, besides Fanny, the Pharaoh had been her other kind and attentive companion for so many months on end, and she missed his ephemeral presence.

Thankfully such a peculiar form of address was ignored by everyone else, and Sir Thomas suddenly recalled Lord Eastwind as a fine, esteemed acquaintance and dear family friend. Warm greetings were exchanged—their warmth inexplicably translating to Maria (who stood silently and somewhat sulkily in her enforced humility, waiting to be noticed). The visitors were then escorted inside, and Fanny—whose heart was performing a very strange beat within her chest—followed, after Edmund and Susan and everyone had gone in, trailing them, harboring anxiety, newfound acute curiosity, and impossible relief (the latter on behalf of there being no Mr. Crawford).

“It has been my utmost pleasure to be of service to Mrs. Rushworth,” said Lord Eastwind in the parlor, while tea was being readied. “I was her companion from London, and must continue on my way shortly, with but a day of stay here in Northampton.”

This information certainly made some difference in the way the curious pair of newcomers was now regarded. There were immediate but unvoiced doubts resumed as to the propriety, especially on Sir Thomas’s part.