Lynn Shepherd - Murder at Mansfield Park

"But it was going south? To London, I mean, and not to Scotland?"

"Indeed. And as far as I have been able to ascertain, it was not hired any where hereabouts."

"I see," said Mary. "That suggests to me that it may have been brought especially from London for the purpose, which places the matter in a rather different light."

Tom stopped, and looked her in the face. "How so?"

Mary sighed. "I believe it proves that this was not the impulse of a moment. No sudden decision, but a premeditated plan, carefully conceived. I fear that whomsoever she has gone with, has made the most careful arrangements, and finding the two of them will be all the more difficult as a consequence. And yet she left Mansfield with nothing beyond her purse and the clothes she was wearing. It is all so very strange!"

Tom nodded. "I can only concur. But thanks to your kind hint, we have also made enquiries throughout the surrounding neighbourhood, and all the young gentlemen of our immediate acquaintance are either in residence, or accounted for, save one. Tom Oliver is thought to be at Weymouth with a party of friends, but there was some uncertainty about his plans, and my letter to an acquaintance in the town has not, as yet, met with a reply. It is, however, unlikely — I would be much surprised if Fanny had spoken to him more than twice in her whole life. Indeed, Miss Crawford, at times I am almost forced to conclude that she did not elope at all, but left here alone, and under her own direction."

"But even were she the sort of young woman who might contemplate doing such a thing," said Mary, "surely she would have taken more of her belongings with her? That circumstance alone seems to argue for the presence of a protector and companion."

"If that is indeed the case, we can, at least, remove one name from our list of possible seducers," replied Tom. "The letter I have only now received was from my father’s friend, Mr Harding, in London. He has been making discreet investigations on our behalf, and while he has found no trace of Fanny, he was able to inform me that an engagement has just been announced between Mr Rushworth and a Miss Knightley, who has a fortune of over thirty thousand pounds. The two families’ estates lie immediately adjoining one another in Surry, and it seems that Mr Rushworth’s father has long hoped to unite them by means of this marriage."

"Mr Rushworth did not behave as a man who considered himself on the brink of matrimony," said Mary hesitantly, wondering how much Tom Bertram had noticed of what had passed between Mr Rushworth, his sister, and Fanny. He had never struck her as particularly discerning, but the frown her words occasioned suggested that he had been rather more observant than she had previously guessed.

"No indeed," he said. "Some part of his conduct I cannot excuse. Had we known of the existence of this Miss Knightley, both Maria and Fanny might have been on their guard, and dismissed his behaviour as mere flirtation. But whatever else we might justly accuse him of, he bore no part in Fanny’s disappearance. All the rest is irrelevant now."

Mary could not be so sanguine. She had seen looks exchanged between Fanny and Miss Bertram in public, and could imagine the words that might have accompanied them in private. It was clear to her that they had never been friends, and once rivals, they had quickly become the greatest of enemies. How would Maria take this latest news from London? She might well have hoped that, with Fanny out of the way, Mr Rushworth would be free to return to her. If so, the news of his forthcoming marriage would be a bitter blow.

"You must understand now why I wished to consult you," continued Tom. "On the day Fanny went off, the prospect of an alliance with Rushworth, begun under circumstances such as these, filled us with horror; at any time it would have been unwelcome, given her longstanding engagement to Edmund, but to have it so clandestinely formed, and at such a period, would have been the severest of trials. But as the days have crept slowly by, and no news has come, we have all been reduced to the faint hope that it would indeed be Rushworth, and no worse a scoundrel, who would prove to be guilty in this affair. My father might have been brought, in time, to forgive the foolish precipitation of such a match, and receive him into the family. But now, our fears can only increase with each hour that passes."

"And Miss Price is now twenty-one," said Mary thoughtfully. "If she was determined upon marriage, there is no impediment now to prevent her."

Tom nodded grimly."Fanny’s coming of age should have been a day of celebration, especially now that my father’s health is improving. It was instead marked by the most bitter recriminations. I know I can trust to your discretion, Miss Crawford, when I say that we are all angrily blaming one another for being blind to the truth and strength of Fanny’s feelings, which now seem only too obvious. It is a wretched business, and I do not know what else we can do. What do you advise?"

" I advise, Mr Bertram! I will be as useful as I can; but I am not qualified for an adviser."

"You should have a juster estimate of your own judgment, Miss Crawford. I know Mr Norris holds you in very high regard. He himself suggested, in his last letter from Cumberland, that I might turn to you for counsel, and rely on your good sense."

"I–I hardly know what to say," she stammered, her cheeks in a glow, wondering what she should make of such a gratifying compliment. "I truly believe you have done all that could be expected of you. And your letter to Weymouth may yet lead to something. In the mean time we can only wait, and hope for the best."

Mr Bertram took her hand, and shook it warmly. "Thank you, Miss Crawford. I do not know what we should do without you. My younger sister, in particular, will, I fear, continue to need your help in the coming days. She is not strong, and the strain of this dreadful situation, coupled with the burden of supporting my mother’s enfeebled spirits, is more than her own delicate constitution can withstand. I am sure it would be a great relief to her if she could confide in you, as a friend."

"Pray tell her I am at her disposal; she has only to ask," replied Mary but as she watched her companion return at a brisk pace to the house, she wondered, not for the first time that afternoon, if Julia really wished to have her as a confidante or whether there was, in fact, something preying upon her friend’s mind that she had decided to keep to herself, and reveal to no-one.

With the rain returning in full force that evening, the weather added what it could to the mood of gloom and despondency at Mansfield. A storm raged all night, and the rain beat against the parsonage windows, but by eight o’clock the following morning the wind had changed, the clouds were carried off, and the sun appeared. Mary had never been so eager to be out of doors, and walked to the village before breakfast to fetch the letters, a task usually assigned to the groom. She was disappointed in her hopes of a line or two from Henry, but consoled herself with the prospect of a day in the sunshine and fresh air, and offered to assist Mrs Grant in cutting what remained of the roses. The two ladies spent the morning in calm, sisterly companionship, and were just beginning to think with pleasure of luncheon and a glass of limonade, when they were startled by shouts and cries of alarm from the other side of the hedge. They hastened to the gate, to find one of the workmen, with a dozen others at his heels, and in his arms, the apparently lifeless body of Julia Bertram. Her clothes were clinging to her thin frame, her lips were blue, and her eyes closed; she did not even seem to breathe.

"She was like this when we found her," the man stammered, his face white and terrified. "We didn’t know what else to do, but bring her here."