Free Mansfield Park Revisited by Joan Aiken Page B

heaven knows what, must naturally come quite beneath Miss Yates’s notice. Consequently if Susan happened to cross Charlotte’s line of vision she generally contrived to remove her gaze elsewhere; and if Miss Price should for any reason address her, she would give a slight start, as if her thoughts had to be summoned back from an unimaginable distance, and emit a kind of languid gasp of surprise. “Oh—did you say something, Miss Price? I did not quite catch—”
    Julia, when away from her sister-in-law, could be meddlesome, interfering, and captious enough, but was not wholly inaccessible to reason. When in the company of Miss Yates, however, Julia was accustomed to follow her style and turns of talk and to imitate her fashion of ignoring Susan, or—if Susan were to be noticed—treating her in a haughty and slighting manner, as though her very existence were a matter of question.
    Lady Bertram, of course, observed nothing of this, and liked Miss Yates very well, only complaining that she talked too quick and that her voice was so soft that none of her remarks could be heard.
    Susan bore with the bad manners of her cousin, and her cousin’s sister-in-law as good-naturedly and philosophically as she could, going about her usual occupations in their presence, answering when addressed, which was seldom, and, in general, speaking as little as possible and keeping herself in the background.
    On the present occasion, however, this policy proved impracticable.
    Tom, having handed over his horse to a groom, came striding round the corner of the house with no very amiable expression on his countenance, addressed a few perfunctory greetings to his sister and Miss Yates, saluted his mother, and then directly approached Susan.
    â€œSusan! How in the world does it come about that those disreputable people, the Crawfords, the ones who brought all the trouble, are established in the White House, and that you are in communication with them? What can you be thinking of? Are you gone quite mad?”
    His remark brought a chorus of exclamation from the females on the terrace.
    â€œThe Crawfords? Why, Tom, you cannot mean those odious people—?” from Julia.
    â€œDear me! The Crawfords! How singular!” from Miss Yates; and even Lady Bertram, who had been dozing, opened her eyes and murmured plaintively, “Pray, what is the matter, Tom? What is it that has happened?”
    Susan remained silent for a moment, from a wish to collect her thoughts, while all eyes were turned upon her. Then she said,
    â€œAs to how the arrangement came to be made in the first place, Tom, your own agent must know that better than I. It was Claypole, your attorney, who managed the business and chose the tenants—”
    â€œYes; and I shall soon say something pretty sharp to that gentleman, if he can take care of my business no better than to be installing such people—the very last one would wish to have about the place. But how comes it, Susan, that you have positively been engaging in correspondence with them—going behind all our backs in this secret, independent, self-regarding manner? Your position here is hardly such as to justify such liberties!” With even greater indignation he went on, “I was riding through the village just now when up comes Mrs. Osborne to me, she having just stept out of the White House. ‘Ah, Sir Thomas,’ says she to me—as if I were Jackson the carpenter, or anybody —‘Ah, Sir Thomas, as I see you are on the way home, perhaps you would be good enough to convey a message to your cousin, Miss Price?’ What could I do but comply, though with no very good grace—being employed as a common messenger, in such a way, by such a person, is not just in my style—on such a hot day, too, and when I was in haste to get home. ‘Pray command me, ma’am,’ I said however, ‘what is it that you wished to ask Miss Price?’