Lynn Shepherd - Murder at Mansfield Park

Mary was still pondering such thoughts when she became aware of a third person in the room: Mrs Norris was standing at the foot of the bed, observing the two women almost as intently as Mary herself. A slight movement alerting that lady to Mary’s presence, she moved at once towards the door with all her wonted vigour and briskness.

"I do not know why it was necessary for Miss Crawford to remain in the house last night," she said angrily, to no-one in particular. "She seemed perfectly recovered to me, and in my opinion it is quite intolerable to have such an unnecessary addition to our domestic circle at such a time. But I did, at the very least , presume we would be not be subjected to vulgar and intrusive prying ."

"Sister, sister," began Lady Bertram, in a voice weakened by weeping, but Mrs Norris did not heed her, and seized the handle of the door, with an expression of the utmost contempt.

"I beg your pardon," said Mary. "I did not mean — I was looking for Miss Julia’s chamber — "

"I doubt she wishes to see you, any more than we do. Be so good as to leave the house at your earliest convenience. Good morning, Miss Crawford."

And the door slammed shut against her.

Mary took a step backward, hardly knowing what she did, and found herself face to face with one of the footmen; he, like Mrs Chapman, was already dressed in mourning clothes.

"I am sorry," stammered Mary, her face colouring as she wondered how much of Mrs Norris’s invective had been overheard, "I did not see you."

"That’s quite all right, miss," he replied, his eyes fixed on the carpet.

"I was hoping to find Miss Julia’s room. Perhaps you would be so good as to direct me?"

"’Tis at farther end of t’other wing, miss. By the old school-room."

"Thank you."

The footman bowed and hurried away in the opposite direction, without meeting her eye, and Mary stood for a moment to collect herself, and still her swelling heart, before continuing on her way with a more purposeful step.

Nearing the great staircase, she became aware of voices in the hall below, and as she came out onto the landing, she was able to identify them, even though the speakers were hidden from her view by a curve in the stairs. It was Edmund, and Tom Bertram.

"It is scarcely comprehensible!" Edmund was saying. "To think that that all this time we have been thinking her run away — blaming her for the ignominy of an infamous elopement — and yet all the while she was lying there in that dreadful state, not half a mile from the house. It is inconceivable — that such an accident could have happened — "

"My dear Edmund," interjected Tom, "I fear you are labouring under a misapprehension. You were absent from Mansfield, and cannot be expected to be aware of precise times and circumstances, but I can assure you that the work on the channel commenced some hours, at least, after Fanny was missed from the house. It is quite impossible that there could have been such an accident as you have just described."

There was a pause, and Mary heard him pace up and down for a few moments before speaking again. She had already drawn a similar conclusion; moreover, she had private reasons of her own for believing that the corpse she had seen could not have lain above a day or two in the place where it was found.

"And even were that not the case," continued Tom, "you cannot seriously believe that the injuries we were both witness to, were solely the result of a fall? You saw it, as much as I did. Surely you must agree that there was a degree of malice — of deliberation — in the reckless damage done to — " he hesitated a moment. "In short, it can only have been the work of some insane and dangerous criminal. It is of the utmost importance that we arrange at once for a proper investigation."

"But the constable — "

" — has done everything in his power, but even were he a young man, which he is not, he has neither the men nor the authority to pursue the rigorous enquiries demanded by such an extraordinary and shocking case. You must see that — just as you must acknowledge that we have only one course available to us."

"Which is?"

"To send for a thief-taker from London. Mr Holmes himself as good as begged me to do so — he knows as well as I do, that this is our best, if not our only, hope."

"A thief-taker?" gasped Edmund. "Good God, Tom, most of those men are little more than criminals themselves! I have read the London newspapers, and I know how they operate. Bribery, violence, and extortion are only the least of it. Do we really want to open our most private and intimate affairs to such a man? To the public scrutiny such a course of action must inevitably occasion? I beg you, think again before you take such a perilous and unnecessary step."

"Unnecessary?" replied Tom coldly. "I am afraid I cannot agree. You, of all people, must want the villain who perpetrated so foul a deed to be brought to justice? And there is but one way we can hope to achieve that. I have made careful enquiries, and have received a most helpful recommendation from Lord Everingham. His lordship has suffered a number of fires on his property, and this man was instrumental in the discovery and detention of the culprit."

"For a handsome reward, no doubt," said Edmund, dryly.

"Of course. That is how such men earn their bread. But they are not all base rogues and villains, as you seem to believe. It appears this fellow gave distinguished service as a Bow Street Runner, before setting up on his own account, and Lord Everingham was willing to vouch not only for his proficiency, but for his complete discretion."

"But surely we should delay until we have the opportunity to consult my uncle?We should not contemplate such a proceeding without his permission. In our last communication from Keswick there was some expectation that he might be sufficiently recovered to commence the journey homewards within a few days. Can we not await his arrival?"

"You know full well, Edmund, that my father is not as yet deemed well enough to receive the news of Fanny’s death, coming as it does, so soon upon the shock of her disappearance, which has already provoked a dangerous relapse," replied Tom. "And even if he is able to set out from Cumberland as promptly as you hope, he will have to travel in slow stages, and will not return to Mansfield for at least a fortnight. We cannot afford to wait so long. I am grateful for your advice, Edmund, but in my father’s absence I am master at Mansfield Park. I have sent for this Charles Maddox, and I expect him later this afternoon. Good day to you."

Mary had, by this time, crept to the edge of the gallery and she saw Tom bow coolly to his cousin and turn away, before Edmund caught his arm.

"Can we, at least, have the body properly attended to? They have conveyed her to the old school-room — it faces north, and is cold without a fire, even in summer." He hesitated, and seemed to be struggling for composure. "I have had candles lit there, and flowers brought from the garden — "

His voice broke, and Mary leaned against the banister, unsure how to interpret his evident distress of mind; she had been so sure that he no longer cared for Fanny — perhaps had never truly done so — but —

" — but to speak frankly, there is no disguising the smell. In a day or so it will be through the whole house. And we should not forget that Gilbert has urged us to keep this latest misfortune from Julia for as long as possible — he was most concerned that she should not suffer further anxiety at this present, and most delicate, stage of her recovery. For her sake — for decency’s sake — let me arrange for the body to be washed and laid out."