Lynn Shepherd - Murder at Mansfield Park

For some minutes the girl could say no more, and Mary held her gently, allowing her sobs to subside, fearing that she knew only too well the cause of her distress.

"Is it your father?" she said at length. "Has there been news from Cumberland?"

Julia raised a face that was as white as death, and wiped her eyes. "No," she said softly, shaking her head, "it is not my father I weep for. It is Fanny."

" Fanny ?" repeated Mary, in amazement. "I fear I do not understand you. Am I to understand that something has happened to Miss Price?"

"She is gone," gasped Julia, her handkerchief to her mouth. "When her maid went to wake her this morning, she was not there."

"Not there ?"

Julia shook her head. "She has fled from the house, with nothing but the gown she had on, and we have no idea where she can be — or," she continued, her voice dropping to a whisper, and her face crimsoning over, "with whom ."

Mary stumbled to the nearest chair and sat down, her knees trembling under her. Julia was still speaking, but Mary heard nothing clearly; it was only a hum of words. She was struggling to comprehend what could have happened — how Fanny could have left Mansfield without assistance, or without anyone else in the house having the slightest notion of her purpose was bewildering to her; and with both Henry and Mr Rushworth absent from Northampton-shire, she could think of no gentleman of Miss Price’s acquaintance who could possibly have had either the address, or the means, to effect such an audacious and presumptuous plan. Fanny had been much admired at the Sotherton ball, and danced with many young men who would have been only too aware that she was the heiress of a very extensive property, but from that to an actual elopement was in every way inconceivable! Yet even as such thoughts were filling Mary’s mind, a small part of her heart could not help rejoicing, despite the grief and scandal that must ensue for so many people she had come to love; for whatever the consequences such a shocking event must produce, one thing was certain: Edmund and Fanny must be divided for ever.

Julia sat down next to Mary, and the two of them continued in silence for a few moments, before Mary roused herself and took the girl’s hand. "How may I assist you? Ask me anything — I am at your service."

Julia gave a wan smile. "You are very good. It is everything I can do to support my mother. Maria is no help, and as for my aunt — I truly fear she will go distracted. To have the wedding so close — the gowns almost ready — the date all but fixed — and then this . I do not think she will ever get over it."

At that moment they were interrupted by noises from the drawing-room, and amid the confusion of voices the words, "Where is Julia? I cannot be comfortable without Julia!" were clearly distinguishable.

Julia got to her feet at once. "My mother is calling for me.Will you do me the kindness of accompanying me? The only comfort I can offer her is to listen and console, but I fear I am in as much need of succour, and as overwhelmed with the enormity of this shocking event, as my poor mother can be. I am sure your good sense alone would be of the greatest utility."

"Yes of course," said Mary, rising from her chair.

The rest of the Bertram family were gathered in the drawing-room, but there was little appearance of unity, either in their behaviour to one another, or their positions about the room. Lady Bertram was on the sopha, Mrs Norris had sunk into a chair on the far side of the fireplace, Maria was standing at the window, and Tom Bertram was pacing to and fro. Mary had never seen him look so agitated, or so clearly a young man of a mere twenty-one years.

"I cannot believe that she was not seen — that they were not seen. And we do not even know whom we are pursuing, which gives us but little chance of deducing where they could be."

"I should have thought London by far the most likely," said Maria coolly, turning to face her family. "After all, in three days’ time she will be of age.Whomsoever she has gone with, they will then have no need of a Scottish wedding to make the marriage legal — if marriage is, indeed, their object."

Mrs Norris groaned, and turned her face away, and it occurred to Mary, for the first time since she had heard the news, that in the distress and anxiety occasioned by Sir Thomas’s accident, the approach of Miss Price’s birthday had gone unnoticed. She was about to come into her whole fortune, a fortune that would, by the terms of her grandfather’s will, pass to her husband on the occasion of her marriage. Mary sighed; she did not know whether to rejoice that her brother was safely in Hertfordshire, and beyond the reach of accusation, or regret that if Fanny’s estate was to pass out of the family in such a painful and public manner, it should not be Henry, with all his talents and merits, who was to benefit. She quickly dismissed the thought as unworthy, at such a dreadful time, and directed her attention to the matter in hand. It seemed to her that the situation required both method and dispatch, and the longer decisive action was delayed, the greater the likelihood that Miss Price would not be recovered until it was too late. "O Edmund!" Mary thought,"how your family miss you now! Tom Bertram has neither your judgment, nor your determination, but I will do what I can, if they will let me." She took a step further into the room. "Have you sent out messengers?" she asked.

Tom Bertram looked up at her in some surprise. "I beg your pardon?"

"I apologise if you consider this an intrusion, but in such a state of affairs a stander-by may be able to see things more clearly than those who are more directly affected. I have read about such cases, and it seems to me that the best course would be to send out messengers to every inn and turnpike between here and London. Furnish the men with a description of Miss Price, and it cannot be long before you will trace where she has gone. Likewise, Miss Price cannot have been acquainted with more than a dozen young gentlemen hereabouts; it is a matter that will require considerable delicacy, but if any of these young men departed the neighbourhood suddenly in the last few days, it would merit further investigation."

Mrs Norris raised herself with difficulty in her chair. "Of all the impertinent, insolent — "

"On the contrary, madam," said Tom, quickly, "I believe Miss Crawford has hit upon exactly what was wanting. We have been so overcome with shock, that we have done little but stare at each other, and repine at our fate, all the while doing very little to the purpose. But that will not find her. I will go to the steward at once; with luck and expedition we may have news by nightfall."

So saying, he walked briskly out of the room. Lady Bertram had begun to weep quietly, and Julia being too distressed herself to offer any support to her mother, Mary suggested gently that they might both be more comfortable upstairs. Mrs Norris turning away in a manner so pointed that anger and resentment could not have been more plainly spoken, Mary decided that her presence was no longer helpful, and politely took her leave. As she moved towards the door, she was not a little surprised to find Maria Bertram offering to walk with her a little way towards the parsonage.

"I suppose this will be the talk of the village before the day is out," said Maria, as they went out through the hall and onto the drive. Mary stole a glance at her, unable to decipher her tone: was it possible that she took pleasure in the fact that Fanny’s disgrace must be spread abroad in such a humiliating and public fashion?

"If that is so, it will not be my doing," she replied, firmly. "It would be best for everyone if the truth were concealed for as long as it is possible. Your father must be consulted, and it is still possible Miss Price may repent of her hasty decision, and return home on her own account."