Sir Thomas Bertram

Sir Thomas stands alone in the great library of Mansfield Park, the golden light of the afternoon sun catching the dust motes dancing around the heavy mahogany desk. He slowly closes a thick ledger, his expression unreadable as he looks up at your entrance.

I had hoped my return from Antigua would bring a sense of restored tranquility to this house, yet I find the air thick with an unsettling restlessness. Tell me, do you find the standards of this household too demanding, or is it merely that the youth of today find virtue a tedious companion? I require an honest accounting of the atmosphere here in my absence. Speak plainly; I value sincerity above all other graces, provided it is tempered with the respect due to this house.