Lynn Shepherd - Murder at Mansfield Park

"Oh Mary, Mary! Such news, such shocking news! Mr Norris has confessed! He has told Mr Maddox that he killed Fanny! Who would have believed such a frightful and incredible thing?"

Mary was not quite so unprepared for this intelligence as her sister might have supposed, but it was not without its effect; she staggered, and felt she might faint, and a moment later felt Henry’s arm about her waist, supporting her.

"Come Mary," he said softly. "This is a most dreadful shock, and you have already had too much to bear. Come inside, and I will send for some tea."

She did not have the energy to refuse, and a few minutes later found herself sitting by the parlour fire, with her sister fussing about her, chattering all the while about the astonishing developments at the Park.

"Mrs Baddeley told me about it herself, when I encountered her in the lane. It appears Mr Norris went to Mr Maddox this very morning, and told him the whole appalling tale — how he met Miss Price that morning by accident, and they had the most terrible quarrel. He claims he never intended to harm her, but when she told him she was married, he was seized of a sudden by a desperate anger. It seems he does not remember much of what ensued, and it was not until the body was found, that it was brought home to him exactly what he had done."

"That being the case," said Dr Grant heavily, "it is a pity he did not make his confession then and there, and save us all a world of trouble and scandal."

"He has saved my neck, at least," said Henry. "I owe him a debt of gratitude for that."

" You , sir," replied Dr Grant, "have almost as much cause for remorse and repentance as Mr Norris can have. You , sir, deserve, if not the gallows, then the public punishment of utter disgrace, for your own part in this infamous affair. You , sir, have indulged in thoughtless selfishness, and coldhearted vanity for far too long. You , sir, would do better to take this unhappy event as a dire warning of what God apportions to the wicked, and hope by sincere amendment and reform, to avoid a juster appointment hereafter."

"A pretty good lecture, upon my word!" said Henry, sarcastically. "Was it part of your last sermon?"

"Come, come," said Mrs Grant, quickly, "I am sure Henry is well aware that he has a good deal to answer for. I must say," she continued with a sigh, "I never thought to hear myself say such a thing, but it’s Mrs Norris I pity. I cannot imagine what she must be suffering."

"She will have to bear much worse if he is convicted," said Dr Grant. "As a gentleman, Norris might hope to avoid being dragged through the public streets to the taunts of the mob, but birth and fortune will not preserve him from the gallows. He deserves no better, and should expect no less; it will be a meritorious retribution for a crime so obnoxious to the laws of God and man."

Mary could endure no more, and leaping from her chair, ran out of the room. It was one thing to act as she had done, from the heroism of principle, and a determination to do her duty; it was quite another to hear Edmund’s fate so freely, so coolly canvassed. She took refuge in a far corner of the garden, which offered no view of the Park, feeling the tears running down her cheeks, without being at any trouble to check them. It was some minutes before she heard the sound of footsteps, and looked up to see her brother walking towards her.

As soon as he reached her, he took her hand, and pressed it kindly. "I am no great admirer of our brother-in-law, but you must forgive him, if you can, on this occasion. I do not think he has the least idea of your feelings for Mr Norris. Whatever our sister says, I believe you are more to be pitied than his unspeakable mother."

Mary nodded, a spasm in her throat. "It must have been the work of a moment — a temporary insanity — under sudden and terrible distress of mind — "

Henry looked away, uncomfortable.

"What is it, Henry?" she cried, catching his arm. "Tell me, please."

She would not be denied, and he did, at length, capitulate. "Very well. It was not, perhaps, so unpremeditated an act as you have just described. I have not told you this before, as there seemed no necessity to do so, but when we were in Portman-square, Fanny wrote to Mr Norris, to tell him of her marriage. I heard her give the messenger the directions to the White House."

"And what did she say in this letter?"

"I did not see it all, only some scraps. What I did see was couched in the scornful and imperious language that I was, by then, coming to expect from her. I do, however, recall one phrase. It was something to the effect that “I wonder now if my fortune was always the principal attraction on your part, given that I have now discovered that you are very much in need of it”."

"I do not understand — Edmund has an extensive property."

"Not, perhaps, as extensive as we have all been induced to believe. And it seems that this is not the only matter about which Mr Norris has dissembled. Having received that letter, he would have known that Fanny was married, but he said nothing of this to anyone at the Park."

Mary’s heart sank still further. "I suppose no killer would willingly draw such attention upon himself."

Henry pressed her hand once more. "But he has, at least, confessed. That can only assist him at the assizes. We must hope for clemency." He stopped, seeing the expression on her face. "Mary?"

She took a deep breath, and looked him in the eyes. "He did confess, but not voluntarily. I myself forced his hand."

She had, until that moment, adhered to Maddox’s request to keep the manner of Julia Bertram’s death a secret, but she saw no reason to respect his wishes any further, now that he had apprehended his killer. She saw at once that her brother was shocked and disgusted at what she had to tell him, far more shocked and disgusted, indeed, than he had been at the death of his own wife.

"But she was a mere child — an innocent child — "

"I know, I know — but if she did indeed see what happened that day — if he feared she was recovering and would soon tell what she knew — "

Henry dropped her hand and walked away, pacing across the grass, his face intent and thoughtful.

"Did you hear what our sister said, Mary? There was no mention, as far as I can recall, that Mr Norris has confessed to killing Julia. Fanny, yes, but not Julia. That is curious, is it not?"

It had not occurred to her before, and she hardly knew how to explain it. "I cannot tell, Henry, nothing seems to make sense."

"But this, indeed, does not make sense. From what you say, aside from good Mrs Baddeley, no-one at the Park is aware how Julia died — with one exception: our friend Maddox. So why has he not confronted Mr Norris with that fact? Why has he not extorted a second confession?"

Mary looked helpless."I do not know. It is unaccountable."

Henry was still pacing, still pensive. It was some minutes before he spoke again, but when he did, his words made every nerve in her body thrill with transport. "Do you really believe him to be guilty of these terrible crimes?"

"I do not want to believe it, but what choice do I have? I heard what Julia Bertram said."

"But from what you say, she only cried out his name — that does not prove anything in itself. Is it at all possible, do you think, that she was calling to him for help? We know he was in the park at that time. Might she have seen him at a distance, and called to him, even if he never heard her — even if he never even knew she was there?"

"Then why has he confessed? Why admit to a crime he did not commit?"

Henry took her hands in both his own. "Has it crossed your mind, even for the briefest of moments, that he may have been protecting you ?"