The Matters at Mansfield m&mdm-4

by Carrie Bebris

  Colonel Fitzwilliam nodded. “A duel between Mr. Sennex and Mr. Crawford might well have been of a more… informal nature.”

  “I wonder whether their unconventional duel began in an even more unorthodox manner,” said Darcy. “If Henry Crawford can be believed, Mr. Lautus claimed to have been hired by someone to teach him a lesson about honor. Perhaps that ‘someone’ was Mr. Sennex.”

  “I deem it possible,” Colonel Fitzwilliam said. “Inasmuch as I believe Mr. Sennex likely to have issued a challenge to Mr. Crawford, I believe him equally likely to have delegated the first attempt to mete out punishment. Neville was probably the least honorable Sennex to have been born into that family in generations; very good at spouting off about honor but poor in his own demonstration of it. I warrant he would have had no qualms about letting someone else perform the dangerous work of defending his honor from foes.”

  “And then when Mr. Lautus failed, he was forced to complete the business himself,” Darcy said.

  “It would be just like him to arrange a less-than-proper means of settling their contest, with as few witnesses as possible.”

  “There might not have been a crowd of observers here,” said Darcy, “but there was at least one other person — the individual who took their pistols afterward.”

  “I dislike all these missing weapons,” Sir Thomas declared. “We still have not located the matching pistol to the Mortimer found with Mr. Lautus. If Neville Sennex did hire Mr. Lautus, I wonder, then, whether he knew anything regarding the whereabouts of the missing Mortimer pistol, or perhaps used it himself this morning.”

  “That might prove easy enough to determine,” Darcy said. He walked to one of the patches near Mr. Sennex. It was a golden silk circle with the same bird pattern and three rifling marks surrounding a black center circle.

  “You would seem to have your answer.” Darcy handed the patch to the magistrate. “This patch matches the two already in our possession. Somehow the missing pistol found its way into Mr. Sennex’s hands after the encounter between Mr. Crawford and Mr. Lautus.”

  “Did Mr. Sennex retrieve it himself?” Sir Thomas asked.

  “He had five days in which to do so before Mr. Lautus’s body was discovered — plenty of time to travel from Buckinghamshire and back,” Darcy said. “Though he would have had to know where to come. Was he ever a guest in your home before last night?”

  “I am not certain. I had never met him before, but my son Tom frequently has friends to visit while I am traveling on business.”

  Another patch lay nearby. Darcy picked it up. Same fabric, same rifling marks.

  Bigger black bull’s-eye at the center.

  Darcy asked Sir Thomas to hand back the patch he had just surrendered. He held it next to this new one. Not only the black powder circle, but the fabric itself, was of a larger diameter. “These two patches differ in size.”

  Colonel Fitzwilliam took them from him while Darcy reached into his pocket for the one he had brought from the previous shootings. “The larger center circle suggests that a larger ball was used,” said the colonel.

  Darcy unfolded the old patch and compared it to those just found. It matched the smaller of the two. “Unless the evidentiary pistol left your custody, Sir Thomas, the shot seated with the smaller of these new patches was fired from the missing Mortimer.”

  “It has not left my custody.”

  “Forgive me, but are you quite certain? Mr. Sennex was a guest in your home last night.”

  Sir Thomas’s expression indicated that he did not appreciate the suggestion that he had failed to exercise proper stewardship over the pistol. “I am certain.”

  Colonel Fitzwilliam walked toward Mr. Crawford and retrieved the patch that lay about five feet in front of the corpse. “It is of the same silk,” he said as he walked back, “in the larger size.” All four patches shared the three black rifling lines.

  “Were this a proper duel,” Darcy said, “I would have expected Mr. Crawford to provide his own pistols, but it appears that all the shots were fired by weapons with similar rifling, and loaded by the same individual.”

  “Were this a proper duel, the weapons would not bear rifling at all,” Colonel Fitzwilliam reminded them. “And it is consistent with what we know of Neville Sennex’s character to believe he might have owned a pair of pistols with hidden rifling.”

  “Or two sets,” Darcy said. “It would seem we are now also seeking at least one larger pistol.”

  “The size of the spent balls will be able to confirm that, assuming they can be found.” Colonel Fitzwilliam approached Mr. Sennex’s remains.

  “Pray do not disturb him,” said Sir Thomas. “Mr. Stover will want to see the bodies as we found them. He is rather particular.”

  Darcy would have liked very much to disturb Mr. Sennex just enough to close his eyelids and shield them all from his lifeless gaze. The expression of astonishment that yet dominated his countenance disturbed Darcy every time he accidentally glanced in his direction. Neville must not have expected Henry Crawford to prove so accurate a marksman.

  Colonel Fitzwilliam, however, seemed entirely untroubled by the open eyes. Darcy imagined his cousin had seen the glassy stare of death often enough on the battlefield to have become oblivious to its unsettling effects.

  Mr. Sennex had landed on his side, and Colonel Fitzwilliam circled round him. “I do not see a wound that would indicate the ball passed clear through him. We may be fortunate enough to find it lodged inside, as with Mr. Lautus. Mr. Crawford sprawls at a more difficult angle to judge, but we can be hopeful that he, too, exhibits no exit wound.”

  Mr. Stover himself arrived but minutes later. Upon being apprised of the latest developments, he promised to complete his examinations with all possible haste. While the coroner conducted his work, Darcy and the others had work of their own to perform.

  Starting with visiting the viscount. They not only needed to advise him of Neville’s death, but also to question him about whether his son had owned a pair of dueling pistols.

  A rather dishonorable pair of dueling pistols.

  Twenty-Six

  There is nothing like employment, active, indispensable employment, for relieving sorrow.

  — Mansfield Park

  “Pray forgive me.” Elizabeth leaned across the table so that Anne could hear her lowered voice. “When I suggested breakfasting together in the dining room now that you are recovered, I forgot about the fact that Meg has become employed here.”

  Anne shook her head. “You need not apologize. I was bound to encounter her eventually.”

  Meg, who had been hovering near the kitchen door, came over and offered an awkward greeting. Anne returned it with all the decorum one could be expected to muster toward a woman with whom one shared a husband — that is to say, with equal awkwardness. Fortunately, no one else was in the room to observe the meeting.

  Meg went to retrieve their tea. She returned with a pot and two cups. As she set Anne’s teacup before her, she offered Anne a self-conscious half-smile, then turned to go.

  “Mrs. Garrick?” Anne said.

  She paused. “I cannot bear to hear that name. Call me Meg.”

  “Meg, I—” Anne glanced at Elizabeth, who encouraged her to continue. “I want you to know — I had no idea. That he was married.”

  A short, mirthless laugh escaped Meg. “Apparently, neither did he.” She shook her head. “We are in a fine mess, are we not? But I do not blame you for it, Mrs. Crawford.”

  “Do call me Anne, for I cannot bear that name.”

  Nat came into the room just then. As Elizabeth had not yet seen Lord Sennex that morning, she excused herself and went to speak with the boy.

  “How are you this morning, Nat?”

  “Very well, ma’am. I have been watching out for Lord Sennex as you asked.”

  “I am glad to hear it. The task has not interfered with your other duties, I hope?”

  “Not greatly, though I can see why you want me to
do it. He was about his business so long last night that I started to worry. But when I got closer to the privy, he was no longer within — I found him poking around the bushes to one side of it. Said he had lost something, but found it, and all was well. I think he dropped his cane and then accidentally kicked it under a bush, for he was stooping when I came upon him. I led him back to his room — tried to take him by the arm to help him a bit, but he wanted no part of that. A proud man, he is, even if his mind is not quite sharp.”

  “He is, indeed. Have you seen him yet this morning?”

  “I have. He got past me somehow, for I didn’t notice him leave the inn, but not long after sun-up I saw him come back inside. He was moving slowly — the walk to the privy must have tired him, or maybe he forgot where it was and wandered about for a while before he found it. Why he does not simply use the chamber pot, I don’t know. Maybe he forgets it’s there.”

  Elizabeth did not care to speculate on the matter. Apparently, she had been well justified in her concern for the viscount’s welfare.

  By the time she finished with Nat, Meg was seated at the table with Anne, and the two were talking over tea as if they had known each other for years. Apparently, their mutual betrayal by Henry had united them. Meg had a gift for putting people at ease; Elizabeth could see why Henry had been drawn to her.

  She decided to leave them to their conversation while she checked on Lord Sennex. Receiving no immediate response to her initial rap on the viscount’s door, she knocked a second time. “Lord Sennex? It is Mrs. Darcy.”

  Her latter attempt elicited sounds of movement. “Just a moment,” he called. She heard something small fall to the floor, followed by muttering. A minute later he opened the door.

  “What can I do for you, Mrs. Darcy?”

  “I came to make that very enquiry of your lordship. With your son gone, I wanted to ensure that you were properly attended. Do you require anything this morning?”

  He stared at her, uncomprehending, for a moment.

  “My lord?”

  “What? Oh! I — no, I do not believe I need anything. Kind of you to enquire, however. You must have been a very dutiful daughter to your father.”

  “I like to believe so. I thought I heard something fall. Is all well?”

  “Oh, indeed. I only dropped something. It was a — now, what was it?” He turned to look back into his chamber. “Yes — oh, yes.” He opened the door wider so that she could see into the room. Unlike her chamber, his had a small table, and upon it was a chess set. “I was just setting up the game, moving everything into position. I knocked down a black knight unexpectedly, but all is fine now.”

  “Your lordship brings a chess set along when traveling?”

  “Very often. It provides occupation. I had this one designed for travel. The board folds into a case, you see.” He gestured her inside. “Would you care to have a look?”

  She followed him to the table. It was a lovely set, each piece carved in intricate detail. The knights appeared ready to charge, the pawns to march, the kings to command. The castles hosted small rooks roosting at the top of each tower.

  “It is a fine set,” she said. “With whom do you play? Your son?”

  “No. Neville—” He cleared his throat. “Neville never showed much interest in the game. I play — well, never mind. You indulge me by enquiring, but the amusements of an old man cannot be of interest to a young person.”

  She pitied the viscount. A sadness seemed to envelop him. How lonely he must often be, with an impatient, self-absorbed son and scarcely anyone else to pay attention to him. “They are of great interest to me. Do go on.”

  “I play against myself, mostly. White Sennex versus Black.” He lifted the white king, his hand betraying a slight tremor. “It has been years since I faced a truly worthy opponent.”

  “Mr. Darcy plays chess. Perhaps he may provide your lordship a challenge.”

  “Perhaps.” He replaced the piece and steered her toward the door. “I thank you for enquiring after me, Mrs. Darcy, but as you can see, I am fine.” He yawned. “Though perhaps less lively than I was at your age. I believe I will have a bit of a nap.”

  She returned to the dining room to discover Anne’s company considerably expanded. Darcy, Colonel Fitzwilliam, and Sir Thomas had joined her and Meg. All bore grave expressions. The colonel sat in a chair beside Anne, talking to both women in a low voice, while the other two gentlemen stood nearby. Upon sighting Elizabeth, Darcy came to her.

  “You have unfortunate news, I take it?” Elizabeth asked.

  “Mr. Crawford is dead.”

  “For certain this time?”

  “Yes. And so is Neville Sennex.”

  “Oh, my.” Her thoughts immediately went to the frail old man she had just left upstairs. “This will be a terrible blow to the viscount.”

  Lord Sennex swayed, his cane proving insufficient to steady him. Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam helped him to a chair.

  “Oh!” The viscount’s hands quivered. He gripped his knees as if trying to still the tremors. “Oh…”

  “My lord—”

  He closed his eyes and slowly moved his head from side to side. “Oh, Neville…”

  “The coroner believes he died quickly,” said Colonel Fitzwilliam. “And honorably. It appears he dueled with Mr. Henry Crawford.”

  “Mr. Crawford? I thought Mr. Crawford was dead?”

  “He is now,” said Sir Thomas.

  A chessboard sat on the small table beside the viscount, and he took up one of the pieces. He turned the black knight over in his hands, at last setting it down to one side of the set. “At least Neville settled that business properly.”

  As Sir Thomas spoke with Lord Sennex, Darcy surreptitiously scanned the viscount’s room. In the far corner stood a wardrobe, one door slightly ajar. Within, Darcy could see two hanging frock coats and a large mahogany case inlaid with a gold chess castle. His lordship’s trunk rested in another corner of the chamber, its lid closed. Against its side rested a valise.

  The viscount tried to stand. “I must make arrangements to have him transported back to Buckinghamshire.”

  “The coroner is still examining him,” said Sir Thomas. “In the meantime, I have a few questions for your lordship about the pistols he might have used.”

  “My son is dead. What does it matter which pistols he used?”

  Sir Thomas produced the small pistol they had found with Mr. Lautus. “Have you seen this before?”

  “I–I have never seen that pistol in Neville’s possession.” He glanced from one man to the next. “Must we do this now? My son will be just as dead tomorrow.”

  “My lord—”

  The viscount stood, leaning on his cane. “I am not familiar with every belonging of my son’s.” His voice trembled, and he rocked slightly.

  Sir Thomas caught his elbow. “Perhaps this might be easier if you sat back down.”

  “I do not want to sit down!”

  “My lord, I do not mean to further distress you,” said Sir Thomas. “Please understand that I am merely discharging my duty as an agent of the Crown to ensure justice is served in the matter of your son’s death. And that of Mr. Crawford.”

  “I do not give a damn about Mr. Crawford.” He raised his right arm and shook a finger at Sir Thomas. Actually, his arm might have shaken of its own accord — the viscount grew more agitated with each passing minute. “As for my son, if he died defending his honor, then I am satisfied that justice was served.”

  “My lord—”

  “Cease my lord-ing me! If you wish to show respect, end this interview altogether and leave me in peace.”

  Darcy interceded. “If you will but allow us a couple questions more, we shall not have to disturb you further.”

  The viscount sighed heavily. “What are your questions?” He sounded exhausted, and somehow looked smaller and more frail than he had when they arrived.

  “There was a guest registered here by the name of Mr. Lautus,”
Darcy said. “Do you know him?”

  “Should I know him?” He turned to the colonel, his expression all confusion. “Colonel Fitzwilliam, is Mr. Lautus one of our neighbors? Pray, help me remember. His name is not familiar to me, but I — from time to time I forget things…”

  “No, my lord. He is not one of our neighbors. But he did occupy this room before you arrived. Did you by chance find anything he might have left behind?”

  “The only items in this chamber are my own possessions.”

  Darcy could listen to the interrogation no longer. The viscount was obviously overwhelmed; to prolong the questioning was to torture an old man who had not been given even a minute in which to grieve for his son. “Perhaps, Sir Thomas, we can continue this later?”

  “We are done.”

  Sir Thomas apologized to the viscount for the necessity of having to so question him. Lord Sennex merely nodded and sank into his chair once more.

  As they left, he swept the pieces off the chessboard with a single motion. And put his head in his hands.

  Twenty-Seven

  The scheme advanced. Opposition was vain.

  — Mansfield Park

  “When a man dies, it seems that someone ought to mourn him,” Elizabeth said as they retired to their room that evening.

  It had been a long day, and Darcy anticipated the next several would prove still longer. “To which man do you refer?”

  She did not immediately answer. “All three of them, I suppose,” she finally said. “Mr. Crawford’s actual demise has inspired far more gossip than grief — I expect because anyone inclined to regret his passing got an early start when he died the first time. Though Neville Sennex’s death has deeply saddened his lordship, Lady Catherine is jubilant, for it has opened the way for Anne to give birth to a future viscount. Mr. Lautus, nobody here knew, although perhaps there might be someone in Birmingham who will miss him.”