It must be pointed out that Mary was a changed young woman, it seemed, from the last time Mrs. Grant had seen her, and there was something about her that was hard to put a finger on, something deep and primeval and rather profound, akin to night. . . . Mrs. Grant truly had no notion of the strange Egyptian goings on at Mansfield Park, but even she discerned something vaguely but equally uncanny in Mary Crawford. Goodness, whatever was it?

But no matter the oddity; she had not waited her arrival to look out for a suitable match for her: she had fixed on Tom Bertram. The eldest son of a baronet was not too good for a girl of twenty thousand pounds, with all the elegance and accomplishments which Mrs. Grant foresaw in her; and being a warm-hearted, unreserved woman, Mary had not been three hours in the house before she told her what she had planned.

Miss Crawford was glad to find a family of such consequence so very near them, and not at all displeased either at her sister’s early care, or the choice it had fallen on. Matrimony was her object—one of her objects—provided she could marry well. And having seen Mr. Bertram in town, she knew that objection could no more be made to his person than to his situation in life. While she treated it as a joke, therefore, she did not forget to think of it seriously. The scheme was soon repeated to Henry.

“And now,” added Mrs. Grant, “I have thought of something to make it complete. I should dearly love to settle you both in this country; and therefore, Henry, you shall marry the youngest Miss Bertram, a nice, handsome, good-humoured, accomplished girl, who will make you very happy.”

Henry bowed and thanked her.

“My dear sister,” said Mary, “if you can persuade him into anything of the sort, it will be a fresh matter of delight to me to find myself allied to anybody so clever, and I shall only regret that you have not half a dozen daughters to dispose of. If you can persuade Henry to marry, you must have the address of a Frenchwoman. All that English abilities can do has been tried already. I have three very particular friends who have been all dying for him in their turn; and the pains which they, their mothers (very clever women), as well as my dear aunt and myself, have taken to reason, coax, or trick him into marrying, is inconceivable! He is the most horrible flirt that can be imagined. If your Miss Bertrams do not like to have their hearts broke, let them avoid Henry.”

Mary did not voice the notion that she herself was to be avoided likewise by eligible gentlemen willing to keep their hearts (and more) intact—but not for the same reasons.

“My dear brother, I will not believe this of you.”