Murder at Mansfield Park

by Lynn Shepherd

  Edmund, meanwhile, appeared to have regained his composure. He looked first at his family, and then at Maddox.‘You have my word, sir, as a gentleman, that no such encounter with Miss Price took place, either then, or at any other time. I can offer no corroborating circumstances or exculpatory evidence; my word alone will have to suffice.’

  His voice was both cool and steady, and the two men remained stationed thus for what seemed to Mary to be an age, gazing upon one another in silence. Then Maddox suddenly gave a brief bow. ‘Thank you,’ he said, ‘I have all I need. For the present.’

  Having uttered these words, he walked so swiftly to the door as to forestall the footmen, and were the notion not so ludicrous, Mary might have been tempted to think he did so to ensure that no-one inside the room should perceive that there had been someone listening outside. There was certainly nobody in evidence when Mary followed Maria Bertram through the door and into the hall; Edmund had departed without another word, and as she was endeavouring to determine where he might have gone, her thoughts were distracted by the sight of Mr Gilbert descending the stairs.

  Maddox stood in the door of the drawing-room, and observed as the family went their several ways. It had been a most rewarding morning, and it was not done with yet. He had read widely on the subject of physiognomy, and to this theoretical knowledge of facial features, the pursuance of his profession had added a practical proficiency in the interpretation of gesture and demeanour. He regularly derived considerable amusement from scrutinising people at a distance, and deducing the state of relations between them, and many times, as now, this faculty had proved to be of the greatest service in the course of his work. He, too, had noted the appearance of the physician, and he now watched his meeting with Miss Bertram and Miss Crawford with the keenest interest. It was evident that Gilbert had promising tidings to impart, and the satisfaction writ across his face was quickly communicated to one, at least, of his companions: Miss Crawford’s relief was immediate and unfeigned; Miss Bertram’s response to the news, however, was rather more finely chequered. She seemed to be very much aware that she ought to look happy, without really being so; it was the impression of a moment only, but Maddox thought he discerned some thing that looked, to his trained eye, very much like fear. ‘Now why,’ he thought to himself, ‘should that be so?’

  As Mr Gilbert turned to spread his happy news to the rest of the family, the two young women went out onto the sweep; Miss Crawford began to walk down the drive towards the parsonage, while Miss Bertram appeared to be making her way to the garden. Maddox followed them out of the house and lingered a moment, watching the retreating figure of Mary Crawford, and suppressing the urge to follow her; some thing told him that this young woman had a role to play yet, in this affair.What that might be, he could not tell, but he owned himself engrossed to an unprecedented and possibly dangerous degree with the captivating Miss Crawford. For a moment the man strove with the professional, but the professional prevailed. He turned away, and walked briskly in the direction of the garden.

  Maria had taken a seat in the alcove at the farther end from the gate, and although she had drawn a piece of needlework from her pocket, she let it fall in her lap when she saw Maddox approaching. Her position afforded each the opportunity of observing the other as he drew near. He looked all confidence, but Maria’s feelings were not as easily discerned as they had been in the hall; she knew herself to be under scrutiny, and was more guarded as a consequence.

  ‘May I?’ said Maddox.

  ‘It appears you have little regard for the niceties of common civility, Mr Maddox,’ she replied archly. ‘I dare say you will sit down whether I give my permission or no.’

  ‘Ah,’ he said with a smile, as he sat down beside her, ‘there you are wrong, Miss Bertram, if you will forgive me. There are few men who are more watchful of what you term “niceties” than I am. Many of my former cases have turned on such things. In my profession it is not only the devil you may find in the detail.’

  Maria replied only with a toss of her head; she seemed anxious to be gone, but unable to take her leave without appearing ill-mannered. Maddox smiled to himself—these fine ladies and gentlemen! It was not the first time that he had seen one of their class imprisoned by the iron constraints of politeness and decorum.

  ‘To tell you the truth, I followed you here, precisely so that we might have this chance to talk privately,’ he continued. ‘I wished to elucidate one or two points, but felt that you would prefer to discuss these matters when the rest of your family were not present.’

  He received a side-glance at this, but nothing more.

  ‘You stated, just now, that you remained in your own room for the whole morning on Tuesday last, and that your maid was with you. You still hold to that? There is nothing you wish to add—or, perhaps, modify?’

  ‘No,’ she said, her colour rising. ‘I have told you every thing you need to know.’

  ‘I fear,’ he said, with a shake of the head, ‘that that is not the case. But let us leave the matter there for the moment. Why are you so concerned that your sister may soon be in a position to speak to me?’

  A slight change in his tone ought to have been warning enough, but she had not heeded it.

  ‘I—I—do not know what you mean,’ she stammered, her face like scarlet.

  ‘It is not wise to trifle with me, Miss Bertram, and even more foolish to attempt to deceive me. I saw it with my own eyes only a few minutes ago. Mr Gilbert told you that Miss Julia may soon be recovered enough to speak, did he not? I saw the effect this intelligence had upon you—and how intent you were to disguise it.’

  ‘How could you possibly—’

  Maddox smiled. ‘Logic and observation, Miss Bertram, logic and observation. They are, you might say, the tools of my trade. Mr Gilbert had good news, that much was obvious; ergo, your sister is recovering. And if your sister is recovering, she will soon be able to speak. This intelligence clearly disturbs you; ergo, you must fear what it is she is likely to say. Simple, is it not?’

  She was, by now, breathless with agitation, and had her handkerchief before her face.‘I am not well,’ she said weakly, attempting to rise, ‘I must return to the house.’

  ‘All in good time,’ said Maddox. ‘Let us first conclude our discussion. You may, perhaps, find that it is not quite as alarming as you fear at this moment. But I have taken the precaution of providing myself with salts. I have had need of them on many other like occasions.’

  Maria took them into her own hands, and smelling them, raised her head a little.

  ‘You are a villain, sir—not to allow a lady on the point of fainting—’

  ‘Not such a villain as you may at present believe. But no matter; I will leave it to your own conscience to dictate whether you do me an injustice on that score. But to the point at hand. I will ask you the question once again, and this time, I hope you will answer me honestly. I can assure you, for your own sake, that this would be by far the most advisable way of proceeding.’

  She hesitated, then acquiesced, her hands twisting the handkerchief in her lap all the while.

  ‘Good. So I will ask you once more, what is it that you fear your sister will divulge?’

  A pause, then, ‘She heard me tell Fanny that I wished she were dead.’

  ‘I see. And when was this?’

  ‘At Compton. The day we visited the grounds.’

  Maddox nodded, more to himself than to his companion, whose eyes were still fixed firmly on the ground; one piece of the puzzle had found its correct place.

  ‘I was—angry—with Fanny,’ she continued, ‘and I spoke the words in haste.’ Her voice dropped to barely a whisper.

  ‘I did not mean it.’

  Maddox smiled. ‘I am sure we all say such things on occasion, Miss Bertram, and from what I hear, your cousin was not, perhaps, the easiest person to live with, even in a house the size of this. Why should such idle, if unfortunate words have caused you so much anxiety?’

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nbsp; It was his normal practice to ask only those questions to which he had already ascertained the answer, and this was no exception; but even the most proficient physiognomist would have been hard put to it to decide whether the terror perceptible in the young woman’s face was proof of an unsophisticated innocence—or the blackest of guilt.

  Maria put her handkerchief to her eyes. ‘After Fanny and I quarrelled in the wilderness I ran away—but—but—my eyes were full of tears and I could hardly see. I stumbled on the steps leading up to the lawn, and made my nose bleed. I did what I could to staunch it, but the front of my dress was covered with blood. I was mortified to be seen so in public, so I concealed the stain with my shawl, that no-one should perceive it. As a result I alone know how and when the blood came to be there.’

  ‘You did not ask your maid to launder the gown?’

  She shook her head. ‘Not at first. I had not spirits to bear even her expressive looks. Insolence would have been intolerable, but pity infinitely worse. And when Fanny’s body was found, it was too late. I became more and more terrified. It was as if some frightful trap had been laid for me. I thought that if—’

  ‘—if I searched your room I would discover this dress, and draw the obvious—indeed the natural—conclusion. I confess I did wonder why you were so adamant in your refusal to permit such a search.’

  ‘How could I have proved that the blood was my own? Such a thing is impossible.’

  ‘Quite so,’ said Maddox, who reflected to himself in passing that, unlike any other injury, a nose-bleed offered the invaluable advantage of leaving no visible scar or sign thereafter, which made Maria Bertram either transparently guiltless, or quite exceptionally devious. He had his own ideas on that subject, but he had not finished with her yet. ‘I can quite understand why you should have been concerned, Miss Bertram. And, if I may say so, your explanation seems most convincing.’

  Her head lifted, and she looked at him in the face for the first time. ‘O, how you do relieve me!’ she burst out. ‘I have not slept properly for days—not since—’

  Maddox held up his hand. ‘There is just one more thing, Miss Bertram. One last question, if I may. If you are indeed as innocent as you claim, why did you induce your maid to lie?’

  Her eyes widened in terror, and he saw her lips form into a no, though the sound was inarticulate.

  ‘There is nothing to be gained by denying it, Miss Bertram—I have spoken to the young woman myself. Do not blame her, I entreat. Your Kitty is one of the most loyal creatures I have ever encountered in her station in life, although I own the ten shillings you gave her would have been a most efficacious reinforcement of her natural tendencies. It was an admirable amount to fix upon, if I may say so—not too large, not too small. Bribery is always such a tricky thing to carry off, especially for a novice: pay too much, and you put yourself in the power of a servant, offer too little, and a greater price—or a greater threat—may be your undoing. And, I am afraid, it proved to be so in this case. Kitty Jeffries was proof against my pecuniary inducements, but even she could not withstand George Fraser. He has never failed me yet.’

  He paused; he was not proud of what he had done, but the wench had suffered no real harm, and he had got the truth from her. Maria Bertram was, by now, sobbing as bitterly as her maid had done not twelve hours before.

  ‘I see that you are unwilling—or unable—to speak. I, then, will speak for both of us. I have a little theory of my own, Miss Bertram, and with your permission, I will indulge myself by expatiating on it for a moment. I believe that you did, indeed, leave your room that morning, and your maid saw you go. I believe you were still angry with your cousin, and this anger had festered for many months, nay, possibly even years. Matters drew to a crisis over Mr Rushworth, and contrary to what one might have expected, your cousin’s disappearance, and the news of Mr Rushworth’s engagement, did nothing to assuage your fury and resentment. Rationally or not, you blamed his defection on Miss Price, and in your eyes, this was only the last of a long series of incidents in which you had been demeaned and humiliated, thanks to her. I believe you were in this same bitter and revengeful state of mind that morning, when, to your enormous astonishment, you saw Miss Price walking towards you near the channel being dug for the new cascade. What you said to one another, I cannot at present divine, but whatever it was, it ended with you striking your cousin a blow across the face. The rest, I admit, is conjecture on my part, but I surmise that whether from pain or shock, Miss Price fell to her knees before you, under the force of this blow, leaving you ashamed, appalled, and perhaps a little exhilarated, at the enormity of what you had done. Doing your best to contain these tumultuous feelings, you returned to the house at once, without daring to look back. Having regained your room, you remained there in a state of the utmost fear and expectation, dreading every moment to hear a commotion in the hall, as Miss Price arrived to accuse you, but time dragged on, and nothing of the kind occurred. By nightfall you were forced to conclude that she must have returned from wherever it was she had come. But the following day her body was discovered, and you were compelled to face the unspeakable possibility that the blow you had struck was far worse than you had perceived, or meant. You had, in fact, committed murder.’

  He had never yet used that word, and it had the predictable effect on the already high-wrought nerves of his companion. He sat back in his seat and took out his snuffbox. ‘Now, Miss Bertram. Perhaps you can tell me whether my theory requires some emendation?’

  She took a deep breath. ‘Very little, Mr Maddox,’ she whispered. ‘You are correct in almost every particular. Except one.’

  ‘And that is?’

  ‘I did look back. I could hardly bring myself to do it, but some thing—some impulse—made me turn around. She was still there—lying on the ground where I had left her, screaming at me. I cannot get the sound out of my head. It haunts me, both sleeping and waking.’

  Maddox could well believe it; her spirits were clearly quite exhausted. ‘So when they found the body, you presumed that she must have fallen into the trench, and been unable to save herself, dying a lingering and terrible death, from the effects of hunger, no more than a few short hours thereafter.’

  Maria put her head in her hands, and her slender frame was racked with sobs.

  Maddox took a pinch of snuff. ‘This is not the first time I have had cause to remark on the deficiencies of young ladies’ education, particularly in relation to what we might term the human sciences. A well-nourished young woman like Miss Price could not possibly have succumbed to starvation in so short a period, and certainly not if she retained the use of her lungs, and the ability to call for help. Now tell me, Miss Bertram, did you see the body when they brought it home?’

  She shook her head, and murmured some thing in which the words ‘my cousin Edmund’ were distinguishable.

  Maddox nodded; it was of a piece with every thing he knew of the public character of Edmund Norris to have stipulated that the young ladies should be protected from such a shocking and distressing spectacle, but on this occasion his interference had had terrible and unintended consequences.

  ‘Your cousin’s consideration for you has, for once, done you a grave disservice. Had you been permitted to see it with your own eyes, rather than relying for your information on rumour and servants’ gossip, you would have saved yourself many hours of needless grief and self-reproach.The wounds inflicted on Miss Price were far more grievous than any thing you describe. The blows that killed her were made by an iron mattock, not a human hand.’

  Maria raised her head and stared at him, daring, for the first time in days, to allow herself the possibility of hope. ‘But how do you know that I am telling the truth—that I did not pick that mattock up and wield it, just as you say?’

  Maddox shook his head, and smiled. ‘You have the proof, there, in your own hand.’

  Her expression of uncomprehending amazement was, he had to admit, exceedingly gratifying, and one of the subtler
pleasures of his chosen profession.

  ‘I do not take your meaning. I have nothing in my hands—nothing of relevance.’

  ‘On the contrary. Before I intruded upon you, you were engaged in needlework, were you not?’

  ‘Yes, but—’

  ‘—and, if I am not mistaken, you hold your needle in your left hand? And your pen, when you write?’

  She nodded. ‘It is not the common way, I know— indeed, when I was a girl, my aunt Norris insisted that our governess school me to use my right hand instead, “as all but idiots do”. Every thing was attempted, including tying my left hand behind my back in the schoolroom, but it was to no effect. Not for nothing does my aunt call me gauche.’

  ‘I fear the effort was always doomed to failure, Miss Bertram. Such preferences are in-born, and cannot easily be changed—if at all. But you are correct in noting that it is not a common trait. It is so uncommon, in fact, that according to my observations, you are the only person I have encountered at Mansfield to exhibit it. A fact which is most significant, in the circumstances.’

  He could have carried on in the same vein a good deal longer, but elected to be merciful; this girl had suffered enough, and all to no purpose.

  ‘I have considerable experience in the art and act of killing, Miss Bertram. It is not a suitable subject for young ladies’ ears, and I myself am frequently shocked and sickened at the extremities of cruelty and pain that human beings are capable of inflicting on one another. But such a long and intimate acquaintance with the many methods by which my fellow men have met an untimely death, allows me to be quite categorical as to certain critical aspects of the horrible crime I have been asked to investigate here, including the full significance of the exact position of the wounds that killed Miss Price. In consequence, I know for a fact you did not take your cousin’s life. The person who wielded that mattock did so with their right hand.’