Everyone entered the chamber, with Fanny trailing them in some timidity (for she still harbored a longtime dread of that room, not to mention she had just dreamed of Mr. Rochester’s mad spouse, and nigh expected flames). . . .

Before their startled, amazed, nay, stupefied eyes was a large expanse of attic space, turned into an approximation of an ancient Egyptian burial chamber. Illuminated by bright burning torches of decidedly Egyptian origin, items of every possible description that had previously lain in careless display all over Mansfield Park were now overflowing the confines of every surface, table, and shelf. Crates were stacked, covered by cat, crocodile, bird, serpent, and other creature-headed statuary, upright golden gods interspersed with baboons, Isis vying for shelf space with Thoth, Bast, Set, and Horus, chests covered with gold and lapis, jars of precious oil and vials of grave provisions for the long repasts of the Afterlife, scepters and head-pieces, bead collars of glass and gold, amulets and scarabs, wooden effigies of slaves and servants and guards, barges of sandalwood and reed, stacks of clay tablets detailing the goods (or possibly shopping lists) of the pharaohs—

“Dear God in Heaven!” exclaimed Sir Thomas in horror, unable to help himself. But then he was faced by an even more harrowing sight.

On a large upraised platform in the center of the room, next to a grand sarcophagus of marble and gold, stood his hapless daughter, Maria.

She was in her night gown. She was standing upright, but balancing with some minor difficulty on the tops of three great oil jars from Cairo (and it is impossible to conceive how she in fact managed to climb there without being properly trained beforehand by cirque du soleil[39]), in order to reach the edge of the sarcophagus, and for all appearances, to lower herself inside the ancient grave.

Off to the side, stood Lady Bertram, nervously clutching several implements of mummification, such as tongs, pliers, a long poker-like metal object that was either a fork or a brain and entrails extractor, and a royal scepter that had fallen out of some chest nearby (when one says “chest,” the implication is either an actual box or a chest cavity, since both were plentiful in the chamber)—and landed inappropriately underhand for her ladyship to grab.

And inside the sarcophagus itself—in the center of the room—stood the Mummy.

He was young, handsome, regal, completely clad in the illusion of the living flesh . . . And for the first time they saw not an elegant London gentleman but an ancient Pharaoh of Egypt.

His skin was olive and dates, his hair like a soft raven’s wing. He wore a robe of white linen trimmed with jewels and gold, and a collar of lapis and glass around his neck, lying in grace upon his muscular chest. His strong arms were braced in gold serpent bands, and his feet were in gilded sandals.