Maria was more to be pitied than Julia. For to her the father brought a husband—his return would unite her to the lover on whom she had chosen her happiness should depend. It was a gloomy prospect, and all she could do was to throw a mist over it, and hope when the mist cleared away she should see something else. Much might happen in thirteen weeks.

Sir Thomas would have been deeply mortified by a suspicion of half that his daughters felt on the subject of his return, and would hardly have found consolation in a knowledge of the interest it excited in the breast of another young lady. Furthermore, Sir Thomas would have been stricken to know that Mansfield Park now had a very tangible, very dangerous, very undead new resident.

While the household went about their own business, the Mummy made himself quite at home in the grand attic, and commenced on feeding off the life force of the servants.

They never knew what affliction it was that had come upon them. For when he ventured forth, he could move as silence itself, and come upon them in well-shaded narrow passages and corridors of Mansfield Park. The Mummy merely needed to reach out with a feather-light touch of his hand, and the servant, footman, maid, or butler were immediately mesmerized—their thoughts and mind were carried away into the balmy ancient land of sun and sand and they heard lovers calling, saw tempting feasts, and imagined all other manner of wonder they could only desire in their dreams.

He did as he promised Lady Bertram. With each feeding, the Mummy only took a small portion of the life force, so that the servant would simply grow light-headed and either faint away, only to revive moments later, or merely felt a sudden unpleasant headache, and could easily resume their work.

Lady Bertram checked upon him frequently, running upstairs at every opportunity, and sending up servants throughout the day with minor idiot tasks that were obviously contrived, just to get them into the Mummy’s chamber.

“How are we coming along now, your Pharaonic—ahem—royal—Mummyship?” asked Lady Bertram yet again, peeking in at him from the doorway. She looked at the undead creature with a bit of curiosity because each time she saw him, it seemed he looked better—more and more alive—by whatever miraculous means.

“You may call me—Lord Rameidas Xethesamen. Or—East Wind. For that is my name.” He spoke to her only one time, in a powerful yet hollow-soft voice.

“Lord Eastwind! Ah, how delightful!”

“Delight is not to be found within my name. But—you have done well by me, My Servant,” replied the Mummy. “So I will overlook your present ignorance. Very soon, I shall come among you in perfect living flesh.”