After dancing with each other at a proper number of balls, Maria and Mr. Rushworth justified everyone’s expectant opinions, and an engagement (with a due reference to the absent Sir Thomas) was entered into, much to the satisfaction of their respective families, and of the general lookers-on of the neighbourhood, who had, for many weeks past, felt the expediency of Mr. Rushworth’s marrying Miss Bertram—especially considering how restless the young gentleman seemed to become lately, and how much additional vermin turned up dead, and how much domesticated small livestock went missing in the surrounding countryside.

It was some months before Sir Thomas’s consent could be received. But, in the meanwhile, as no one felt a doubt of his most cordial pleasure in the connexion, the intercourse[6] of the two families was carried on without restraint, much Egyptian stuff was transferred over to the Rushworths’ (despite Maria’s gentle pallor at the sight of each moving box) and no other attempt made at secrecy than Mrs. Norris’s talking of it everywhere as a matter not to be talked of at present.

Edmund was the only one of the family who could see a fault in the business. No representation of his aunt’s could induce him to find Mr. Rushworth a desirable companion. He could allow his sister to be the best judge of her own happiness, but he was not pleased that her happiness should centre in a large income. Nor could he refrain from often saying to himself, in Mr. Rushworth’s company—“If this man had not twelve thousand a year, he would be a very stupid fellow. Indeed, a rather wolfish fellow, too.” For, being sensitized to such things by long-term observation, Edmund could see the signs of a supernatural something or other in Mr. Rushworth, and it boded of nothing good and a goodly amount of the idiotic.

“Just what we need, Fanny,” Edmund muttered, in her hearing alone, “another unholy Curse in the family—though I do believe Aunt Norris had a hand in this one—”

“More like a tooth—” finished Fanny, biting her lip immediately afterward, seeing how Edmund was in a dire and serious mood.

“Thou must not mock their affliction, gentle cousin!” exclaimed Edmund, looking her in the eyes with his dear own, blazing with zeal. “I am afraid the struggle of Good and Holy on this family’s behalf will have a harder time of it, now. Especially since, as you say, something terrible is afoot. I am not ready—oh, this Servant of the Lord is not ready yet to face the evil, the darkness surrounding us here in Mansfield Park! Oh, if only I were ready—”

“Well, ready or not, cousin, you do have me. Always. I will do whatever it is you need of me, to help you in the struggle to come—”