It was a beautiful evening, mild and still. The drive was as pleasant and serene as nature. But when Mrs. Norris ceased speaking, it was altogether a silent drive to those within. Their spirits were in general exhausted; and whether the day had afforded more pleasure or pain was not easy to surmise.

Chapter XI

The day at Sotherton, with all its imperfections, afforded the Miss Bertrams much more agreeable feelings than were derived from the letters from Antigua, which soon afterwards reached Mansfield. It was much pleasanter to think of Henry Crawford than of their father. And to think of their father in England again within a certain period (which these letters obliged them to do), was a most unwelcome exercise.

In addition, when they had returned home after that outing, it seemed something had changed—more so than usual, a peculiar gloom and doom difference was in the air.

Mrs. Grant sat all alone, in a trance, on the sofa in the drawing room. And Lady Bertram greeted them in an especially dazed mood, as she moved down the stairs, holding her pug in one arm and some kind of Egyptian implement in the other, while behind her trailed a maid, looking very disheveled and sickly. Both of them appeared to be distracted, periodically glancing around in a near stupor, as though searching for something—or someone.

“Did you see him, dear?” asked Lady Bertram, staring at Julia so hard that the other had to blink.

“Who, mother?”

“The great Pharaoh, of course, He has returned at last, and walks among us. Must’ve gone below stairs.”

“Beg pardon?”

But Maria opened her eyes wide and poked Julia in the side with her umbrella stick, motioning her to hush. Obviously their mother was having one of those afternoons. Where indeed had been Mrs. Grant, away in the other room instead of watching over her?

“Why, what is it you speak of, Lady Bertram?” said Mrs. Norris, who misheard. “What farrier? Who is the great farrier? Whatever do you speak? Since when do we employ farriers?”

“Hush, please, never mind!” Maria hissed.

But Fanny and Edmund exchanged worried glances.

But there was no sign of anyone out of the ordinary, so they soon forgot the incident and retired for the evening. Indeed, it seemed that was the end of it. At least for the moment.

November was the black month fixed for Sir Thomas’s return. His business was so nearly concluded as to justify him in proposing to take his passage in the September packet, and he consequently looked forward with the hope of being with his beloved family again soon.