A few moments later, this impressive and uncommon personage was being shewn into Sir Thomas’s room, where Mr Bertram and Mr Norris were awaiting him. The former had taken up the post of honour behind his father’s desk, while his cousin was standing by the window, evidently ill at ease. They had both been to Oxford, and no doubt considered themselves men of the world, but such a creature as Maddox was far beyond their experience.
‘Good day to you, sirs!’ said their visitor, with the most perfunctory of bows. ‘I admire your discernment. This will do admirably.’
‘I am not sure I understand you,’ said Tom, who had not expected such extraordinary self-assurance from a man who was to be in his employ.
But Maddox had already assumed a proprietorial air, and was wandering about the room, running his hand over the furniture, and inspecting the view from the windows. ‘This will make a very suitable “seat of operations”, as I like to call it. I will have my assistants set up in here.’
‘But this is my father’s room—’ began Tom, looking at him in consternation.
Maddox waved his hand. ‘You have nothing to fear on that score, Mr Bertram. His house shall not be hurt. For every thing of that nature, I will be answerable. And my men are good men. They know how to behave themselves, even in such a grand house as this one.’
Tom and Edmund exchanged a look in which there was as much anxiety on the one side, as there was reproof on the other; the door then opened for a second time, and two men appeared, carrying a large trunk. One was tall and thin, with a pock-marked face; the other short and stout, with a reddened and weather-beaten complexion, and his fore-teeth gone. They set down their burden heavily on the carpet, then departed as they had come, without a word, but leaving behind them a distinct waft of tobacco. Maddox, meanwhile, had installed himself comfortably in an elbow-chair, without staying to be asked.
‘And now to business,’ he said, genially. ‘You agree to my terms, both as to the daily rate, and the reward in the event of an arrest?’
Tom endeavoured to regain the dignified manner suitable to the head of such a house, and to reclaim the mastery of the situation. ‘We consider ourselves fortunate to be able to call upon a man of your reputation, Mr Maddox. Indeed, we are relying on you to bring matters to a prompt and satisfactory conclusion.’
‘My own aim, entirely,’ said Maddox, with a smile.‘And in the pursuit of same, may I begin by examining the corpse?’
The two gentlemen absolutely started, and for a moment both seemed immoveable from surprise; but Edmund shortly recovered himself, and said in a hoarse voice, ‘You cannot possibly be in earnest, Mr Maddox. It is quite out of the question.’
Mr Maddox frowned. ‘I assure you I am in the most deadly earnest, Mr Norris. The precise state of the body— the nature of the injuries, the advancement of putrefaction, and such like matters—are all of the utmost significance to my enquiries. It is the evidence, sir, the evidence, and without it, my investigation is thwarted before it even commences.’
‘You mistake me, Mr Maddox,’ said Edmund coldly, a deep shade of crimson overspreading his features. ‘It is out of the question, because the coffin has already been sealed. To open it again—to break open the shroud—would be a sacrilegious outrage that I cannot—will not—permit.’
‘I see,’ said Maddox, eyeing him coolly. ‘In that case, may I be permitted to speak to the person who laid out the corpse? It is a poor substitute, but in such a circumstance, secondhand intelligence is better than no intelligence at all.’
Tom hesitated, and looked to his cousin. ‘What think you, Edmund? May we impose so much on Miss Crawford’s kindness?’
‘Could such an importunate interview not wait a few days?’ said Edmund, angrily. ‘It has been a distressing day for us all, and for none more so than Miss Crawford. She finished laying out the body not two hours ago.’
‘So much the better,’ replied Maddox. ‘The lady’s memory will be all the fresher for it. You would be surprised, Mr Norris, how quickly one’s powers of recall weaken and become confused, especially in cases such as this, when the mind is exerting itself to throw a mist over unpleasantness. We all believe our faculties of recollection to be so retentive, yet I have questioned witnesses who would swear to have seen things that I know, from my own knowledge, to be absolutely impossible. And yet they sincerely believe what they say. Which is why it is essential that I speak with this Miss Crawford without delay. There is not a moment to lose.’
Edmund turned and went to the window, and remained there some moments. This did not fail to attract a considerable degree of interest from Mr Maddox, though he said nothing, and appeared to be absorbed merely in contemplating the set of family portraits that hung on the wall behind.
A moment later Edmund turned to face them; his features had assumed an air of grim determination, but his voice was steady.
‘I will ask Miss Crawford to join us. I am sure you will find her to be both accurate and reliable in her observations.’
He bowed hurriedly, and left the room. There was a short silence, in the course of which, Mr Maddox got up from his chair, and strolled with apparent unconcern towards the paintings.
‘Is this the victim?’ he asked.
‘I beg your pardon?’ said Tom, who had not been accustomed to such language as this.
‘Fanny Price—is this her?’
‘Yes,’ said Tom, stiffly, bridling at the familiarity. ‘That is indeed a likeness of Miss Price.’
‘And is it a good one?’
‘I believe it is generally thought to be so. It was drawn some two years ago.’
‘I see,’ said Maddox, thoughtfully. ‘A handsome woman. A very handsome woman, if I may say so. And an heiress, into the bargain.Your Mr Norris was a lucky fellow. And to lose such a prize, in such a way—it would be a wonder if his life were not ruined. Would it not, Mr Bertram?’
Tom was saved from the necessity of a reply by the sound of the door opening, and the reappearance of Edmund, accompanied by Mary.
‘I have explained the circumstances to Miss Crawford,’ he said, ‘and she has kindly agreed to answer any questions you may have. But I would beg you to recollect that we have already made more demands on her than we can claim any right to, and she is, as a consequence, quite exhausted. Pray do not tire her unnecessarily, or distress her without good reason.’
Edmund made to take a seat, but Maddox prevented him. ‘I would much prefer to speak with Miss Crawford in private, Mr Norris.’
‘Why so? Surely that is not necessary?’
‘In my experience, Mr Norris, people find it easier to be completely frank and open in their disclosures, when their family or acquaintances are not listening to every word they say. All the more so, when the questions to be asked are of such a delicate and, shall we say, squeamish nature. So if Miss Crawford permits—?’
Mary held his gaze for a moment, and he perceived the slightest lift of her head as she replied, with some self-possession, ‘Thank you for your concern, Mr Norris, but I am quite content. I will speak to Mr Maddox alone.’
Mary had been both surprised and pleased when Edmund had sought her in the dining-parlour, but she had instantly perceived him to be wholly preoccupied by some thing that seemed to have little to do with her; his manner was distant, and had she not become well acquainted with his character and temper, she might have considered him to be almost uncivil. He had explained his errand in some haste, barely meeting her eye, and she could not tell if he was vexed or relieved when he met with a ready acquiescence to his request. He had asked her to accompany him with scarcely another word, and she had barely enough time to collect her wits before she was led into the presence of Charles Maddox.
When the door had closed behind the two gentlemen, Maddox directed her to a chair beside the fire, and took one facing her. It might have been accident, or design, but the seat he had chosen afforded him a clear view of her face in the light from the window, while his own features remained shadowed
and obscure.
‘Now, Miss Crawford,’ he began. ‘I am most grateful for your assistance in this sad affair. I am sure you are as anxious as any body to have it elucidated.’
‘I will do any thing in my power to help.’
‘Quite so, quite so. Perhaps you might begin, then, by giving me your impressions of the corpse. In your own words, of course.’
This was not what she had expected—in so far as she had expected any thing—and she sat for a moment without speaking, wondering how, and where, to commence. She was aware that Maddox was eyeing her closely all the while, but before she had the chance to begin her relation, he took matters into his own hands.
‘Perhaps it might expedite the business if I began by putting one or two questions of my own?’
Mary blushed in spite of herself; she had not thought to find an intellectual superior in such a man as this, but he already had the advantage of her.
‘If you would be so good. I have no experience of such things, and do not know what, precisely, you wish to ascertain.’
‘Quite so. I would have been astonished if it had been otherwise,’ he replied with what he clearly believed to be an affable smile. ‘As far as I have been informed, Miss Price met her death as the result of an accident.’
Mary shook her head. ‘That is simply not possible. Such injuries could not have been sustained in a simple fall.’
‘You say injuries, in the plural.Was that deliberate?’
Mary looked at him archly. ‘I am always most precise in my use of words, Mr Maddox. You may take it that what I say, I mean.’
He bowed. ‘I am glad to hear it. Indeed, I wish more of my witnesses demonstrated such precision of thought. So, we may conclude her assailant inflicted more than one blow?’
Mary nodded. ‘Six, or seven, in my estimation.’
‘You saw evidence of that?’
‘Not at first, but once I had washed the blood and dirt away, several distinct wounds became clearly visible. They were all close together on the left side.’
Maddox sat back in his chair, and joined his finger-tips under his chin. ‘So there was a great deal of blood,’ he said thoughtfully, before continuing in a louder tone, ‘and what sort of blows, do you imagine, might have produced those wounds?’
Mary frowned. ‘I do not take your meaning.’
‘Were they, for instance, caused by the blade of a knife?’
‘Oh, I see. No, it was most definitely not a knife. It must have been much thicker and heavier than that. But with a pointed edge.’
‘Like a hammer, would you say?’
Mary considered for a moment. ‘Yes. That would be possible. Some thing of that kind. There was also a mark on the right-hand side of the face, but that was little more than a bruise.’
Maddox smiled again. ‘Excellent. You are a most observant young woman, Miss Crawford. Just as Mr Bertram said you were. Now, shall we pursue the same fertile train?’
It was not a very happy turn of speech, but Mary had already perceived that she would do well to keep her private opinions to herself, in the presence of the watchful Mr Maddox.
‘Were there any other marks or blemishes on the body, Miss Crawford,’ he continued, ‘that particularly engaged your notice?’
Mary’s feelings had been in such a tumult, that she could not have articulated a sensible answer, had the same question been put to her on the spot; but now, under the influence of his questions, her mind was becoming calm, and her recollections exactly defined.
‘I did notice her hands.’
‘Her hands?’
Mary nodded slowly. ‘Miss Price was always rather vain of her hands. But her finger-nails were broken, and there was mud under them. And there were cuts on both her palms.’
‘And you concluded from this?’
Mary could not remember concluding any thing at all at the time, but she found herself replying before she was aware, ‘I suppose it is possible that she attempted to defend herself.’
‘Quite so, quite so. That is very likely, I should say.’
‘There was also the question of the clothes,’ continued Mary, hesitatingly.
‘Go on.’
‘She was wearing a very handsome pelisse, trimmed with fur, which I believe had been given to her by her uncle, just before he left for Cumberland. And underneath that, a white muslin gown. Her boots, also, were of very fine leather—’
Maddox waved his hand. ‘I am sure all this is most fascinating for you young ladies, but—’
‘If you would allow me to finish Mr Maddox, I was going on to say that her boots were caked in mud. They were not designed for walking any great distance, but I believe that is what she must have done. The weather had lately been very wet.’
‘I see—’
‘Moreover, the front of the gown was stained with mud. In particular, there were two large dark patches on the skirt.’
It was Maddox’s turn to look bewildered.
‘Do you not see the significance, Mr Maddox? Miss Price was discovered at the bottom of the trench, lying on her back. I was present at that dreadful moment, and I can attest to that. But the marks on her gown would suggest that she had also, at some point, fallen forwards, onto her knees.’
Maddox looked at her with new respect. ‘Was there any thing else about her appearance that you noted? Was she, for instance, wearing a wedding ring?’
‘No.’
‘Was she carrying a purse?’
‘No. Nor, I believe, was one discovered in the trench.’
‘So she had no money about her at all?’
‘No, Mr Maddox, none.’
This exchange was succeeded by a silence of some minutes. Mary was suddenly aware of the sound of the clock on Sir Thomas’s desk, and the crepitation of the subsiding fire.
‘Now, Miss Crawford,’ said Maddox at length, ‘we come to what we might call the heart of the matter. It is clear that you are not a young woman given to fits of the hysterics. Nonetheless, these are not pleasant subjects. Not pleasant subjects, at all. Would you like me to fetch you a glass of water, before we proceed?’
‘No, thank you, Mr Maddox. I am perfectly composed.’
‘Quite so, quite so. My next question, then, returns to the subject of her clothes. You have given ample proof of a discerning eye, Miss Crawford, so tell me, was her dress in such a state as you might expect to find it?’
‘How so, Mr Maddox?’
‘Was it, shall we say, torn, or rent in any way?’
‘There was, I believe, a small tear to the collar of her pelisse. The trim had come away in one place.’
‘It was her dress I enquired after, Miss Crawford, not the pelisse.’
‘In that case, the answer is no. Apart from the stains I described, it was unharmed.’
‘And when you washed the body, you noticed no other injuries, beyond those you have described? None, shall we say, of a more intimate nature?’
Mary shook her head, feeling her face must be like scarlet; so this was why he had wanted to question her alone. Much as she resented being indebted to him on any account, she could not but be grateful that Edmund was not in the room at that very instant. Maddox gave her no time to recover her composure; indeed, he gave no sign of having perceived her confusion.
‘And what state was the body in,’ he continued, perfectly collected, ‘when you laid it out? Let me be absolutely clear, Miss Crawford. How advanced was the progress of decomposition?’
Mary looked at him, but her gaze was steadier than the beatings of her heart. ‘You do not mince matters, do you, Mr Maddox?’
Maddox spread his hands. ‘I did warn you I would be candid, Miss Crawford. In my experience, there is little to be gained by evading the truth. Not in cases of murder, at any rate.’
Mary took a deep breath. ‘Very well. Let us say that the—the—natural process—had commenced, but I do not believe it had advanced more than one or two days.’
‘Indeed? And why should you say t
hat? There are those in the household, I am told, who believe that she must have lain there above a fortnight. Nay, sixteen full days, if my own computations are correct.’
Mary shook her head. ‘That is quite impossible,’ she said quickly. ‘As you are already so well informed, Mr Maddox, you must also know that the work on the channel did not commence until after Miss Price was missed from the house.’
‘Indeed,’ he said, with a look that confirmed that it was, indeed, exactly as she had surmised, and she was so much vexed at this manner of proceeding as to be betrayed into uncharacteristic carelessness. ‘And even were that not the case—’
She stopped at once, suddenly conscious of where her words were tending.
‘Do go on, Miss Crawford,’ he said. ‘I am all agog.’
Mary wished it unsaid with all her heart; he had provoked her into imprudence, and she had allowed herself to be taken in. She was mortified by her own lack of caution, but there was no help for it now. If Maddox was at all aware of what was passing in her mind, he gave no outward sign, and sat quietly in his chair, exercising his excellent teeth upon his thumb-nails.
‘You were saying, Miss Crawford?’ he asked quietly.
Mary lifted her chin, and held his gaze.’ ‘If Miss Price had been lying in the open air, during a period of inclement weather, for more than two weeks, the body would have been in a quite different state from the one in which we found it. Is that plain enough?’
Maddox took out a gold snuffbox, tapped it, and let the snuff drop through his fingers, then shut it, and twirled it round with the fore-finger of his right hand. Mary watched with rising irritation, perfectly aware that this was precisely the response he hoped to induce.
‘And you base this assertion on personal experience?’
Murder at Mansfield Park Page 15