The Mansfield Park Murders

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The Mansfield Park Murders Page 10

by Victoria Grossack


  ​Sir Thomas said that if Tom were home, he might turn to him, but with his eldest son away, and with Edmund and Fanny seven miles distant, Susan, despite her youth and inexperience, was the most reliable person in the house.

  Susan promised to do her best, but before they could continue, the door was flung open and Mrs. Norris entered.

  ​“Mr. Rushworth tells me there was no horse thief – that the horse was never stolen! What does this mean?” Before Sir Thomas could reply, Mrs. Norris continued. “Yet there must have been a horse thief! If there was no horse thief, then who killed Mr. Yates?”

  ​So much for Sir Thomas’s wish not to alarm the household, thought Susan, as Mrs. Norris described her conversation with Mr. James Rushworth. Mrs. Norris had been curious, she said, about Maria’s former husband and how he was faring – and to determine if he had come to Mansfield Park in order to apologize or to find some way to attempt a reconciliation. If so, she was ready and willing to serve as an intermediary.

  ​“Mr. Rushworth never deserved our darling Maria,” said Mrs. Norris, and continued along this vein for a minute or two – but as Sir Thomas seemed disinclined for this direction of conversation, the older woman finally returned to the subject of Mr. Yates’s death and the horse thief or lack thereof. “I asked Mr. Rushworth why, if he had not come to Mansfield Park to make amends to Maria, he had made the journey from Sotherton. He said the black stallion had returned to Sotherton, without a rider, and that you believe there never was a horse thief.”

  ​Sir Thomas said that was indeed his conclusion. Mrs. Norris persevered for a while, arguing that the crime must have been committed by a horse thief – Sir Thomas steadfastly opposed her, explaining that he had other information that indicated that no horse thief had ever existed – and insisted that he had to make inquiries, because the possibility of a murderer being at Mansfield Park, although dreadful to contemplate, was too dangerous to ignore. Mrs. Norris yielded, and praised Sir Thomas’s goodness in guarding them all in these terrible circumstances. She promised that she would do everything within her power to protect and support the spirits of Lady Bertram and her two dear nieces.

  ​Susan was also a niece, but Mrs. Norris did not include her in her reckoning.

  ​Sir Thomas thanked Mrs. Norris for her intentions and invited her to sit down. He wished to inquire if, given the new circumstance, she had anything to add about what she had noticed during the night of Mr. Yates’s death.

  ​“Very well,” said Mrs. Norris, and as she chose a chair, she seemed to notice Susan for the first time. “And what is she doing here?”

  ​“Susan often takes notes for me,” explained Sir Thomas, and upon that, Susan picked up her pen again. “As Tom is not here, she is the person most suitable.”

  ​Mrs. Norris sniffed, but made no more objections to Miss Price, and Sir Thomas posed his questions regarding Mrs. Norris’s movements from that evening. Mrs. Norris had nothing more to add to what she had said before. Then Sir Thomas asked her if she knew if anyone at Mansfield Park had had any reason to dislike Mr. Yates particularly – or if she knew if anyone would benefit from Mr. Yates’s death.

  ​Mrs. Norris reddened. “Sir Thomas! I do not know what you mean.”

  ​Sir Thomas continued. “For example, we know that Mr. John Yates is now expected to inherit the Barony of Dexthorpe. That means that Mr. John Yates, and even my daughter Julia, benefit significantly from the death of Mr. George Yates.”

  ​“My word! You cannot possibly think that dear Julia had anything to do with this.”

  ​“I am not accusing Julia. I cannot imagine a woman hitting Mr. Yates on the head, slashing his throat, and then dragging his body to a corner of the stables and covering it with hay,” said Sir Thomas.

  ​“No, indeed! So, Julia cannot be guilty,” said Mrs. Norris.

  ​“But that does not acquit her husband. Besides, I intend to be thorough. If anyone at Mansfield Park had a reason to wish for the demise of Mr. Yates, I need to know about it.”

  ​Mrs. Norris maintained that Mr. John Yates certainly had nothing to do with the terrible deed – he had been so distraught upon learning that his brother was dead, and besides his sweet nature would prevent him from ever committing such an act. Nevertheless, Sir Thomas insisted on an answer to his question: did she know of anyone at Mansfield Park who might wish Mr. Yates an early departure from his life?

  ​Mrs. Norris was actually silenced for a minute or two as she reflected on her brother-in-law’s words. Susan observed her aunt’s expression change several times, as if she were struggling with what to say.

  ​“I did not know Mr. George Yates very well, so I cannot be expected to know much about who would wish him dead,” said Mrs. Norris. “But the last person I saw him speak with was Susan.”

  ​At this, Susan ceased taking notes. Of course, Mrs. Norris’s statement was perfectly true; she had spoken with Mr. Yates on the stairs. Yet the tone of her aunt’s voice made her suspect that worse accusations were coming. Susan hastened to defend herself. “And you saw me leave, Aunt, and go up the stairs towards my room.”

  ​“Yes, but nothing can prove that you did not turn around and come back down,” said Mrs. Norris. “And your conversation with Mr. Yates appeared animated. As well as inappropriate! You were holding hands!”

  ​“He was holding my hand! Against my will! He only released it when you appeared.”

  ​Sir Thomas defended his niece. “Susan went to her room and barricaded herself from within.”

  ​“Did she tell you that?” said Mrs. Norris, her tone implying that Susan could not be trusted.

  ​“Yes, and so did the housemaid,” said Sir Thomas.

  ​Susan started; she had not realized that her uncle had verified her statement.

  ​Mrs. Norris considered. “Susan could have barricaded her room afterwards, so that no one would suspect her of killing him. The furniture before the door may have only been a ruse.”

  ​“Nonsense! What reason would Susan, who only met Mr. Yates a few days ago, have to kill the man?”

  ​Mrs. Norris glanced at Susan, raised an eyebrow, then continued. “Very well. Suppose Mr. Yates made her an offer, an offer that sounded like a proposal of marriage. Suppose Mr. Yates then changed his mind, and decided all he wanted was an illicit relationship. That might make Susan angry enough to kill him, might it not?”

  ​“You have many supposes,” said Sir Thomas.

  ​“You asked for speculation,” said Mrs. Norris. “And although I cannot prove that Susan is guilty of the deed, as I was not – was not in the stables when the murder occurred, that does not mean that she did not do the deed.”

  ​Sir Thomas shook his head. “The same argument that applies to Julia applies to Susan. I cannot imagine any young woman having the strength to hit a man over the head, to cut his throat, and then pull him to a corner of the stable.”

  ​Susan felt immense relief, and even Mrs. Norris did not protest.

  ​“Perhaps,” conceded Mrs. Norris. “But Wilcox and Cooper have both told me that Susan is good with horses – not timid like Fanny. She would have been able to release that horse, to divert suspicion from her.”

  ​Sir Thomas sighed. “Very well, Mrs. Norris, you have presented a case against my niece, although I do not see how she could have physically done the deed, or how, in the short time that she spent with Mr. Yates, she could have managed to have the illicit relationship that you describe. Do you suspect anyone else?”

  ​Mrs. Norris continued to speak, but in veins that were less distressing to Susan. Men in the stables had to be most suspect, of course, as they were on the spot, and also because they were men. Only a man would have the strength and the violent nature to do what had been done to Mr. Yates.

  ​Much of this contradicted what Mrs. Norris had said moments ago, but as Susan preferred these words to what her aunt had said before, she did not point out her aunt’s reversal.

  ​A footman enter
ed to say that Mr. Rushworth was about to depart, unless Sir Thomas wished him to stay.

  ​“I will say goodbye to him,” said Sir Thomas. He rose, and with his gestures, indicated that Susan and Mrs. Norris should leave his rooms as well.

  ​“Will you need me, Uncle?” asked Susan.

  ​“No, Susan. Not right now.” His manner was grave.

  ​Mrs. Norris returned to the drawing-room. Susan, needing to refresh her spirit after Mrs. Norris’s suspicions and accusations, hesitated in the vestibule and then, instead of joining the other ladies, went outside.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Susan ran to the gardens. Her eyes were full of tears, making it impossible for her to really see the flowers, but the fresh air and the perfume of the blossoms revived and calmed her a little. If only Fanny or Edmund or even Tom were here; her dear sister and the cousins whom she knew better than Maria or Julia. They would defend her from such monstrous notions! Then she remembered that she did not wish for Tom to be at Mansfield Park, because then Mrs. Norris would accuse her of scheming to marry him.

  ​How much had Fanny suffered from Mrs. Norris? Fanny had dropped hints, had warned her of Mrs. Norris’s unpleasant nature, but Susan had not comprehended how personal and cruel her aunt’s attacks could be.

  ​Susan was also astonished by the breadth and scope of Mrs. Norris’s story about her, and how plausible she had made her ideas sound, with such passion that Susan almost felt guilty, although she knew she was not. Susan might have done no violence to Mr. Yates, but had she not been less than completely sorry about his death? How wrong, how very wrong she had been, not to feel with force and conviction that the murder of another human being was evil, absolutely evil.

  ​Susan walked with such haste that she nearly collided with a gardener, who was pruning one of the hedges. He was the only one out in this weather, for dark clouds threatened.

  ​“Excuse me, Miss,” he apologized, as she started.

  ​“It was my fault,” she said, and after that she paid more attention to her surroundings and continued at a more reasonable pace.

  ​As Susan paused beside a tree she watched Mr. Rushworth depart in his fine carriage, with Sir Thomas bidding him farewell. After that Sir Thomas walked in the direction of the stables. As he certainly did not intend to ride at this hour, he had to be planning to interview those who worked in them.

  ​Susan wondered if Sir Thomas suspected her of killing Mr. Yates. Surely he thought better of her; besides, had he not said that a woman could not have done this? He had merely listened to Mrs. Norris out of necessity, for she had had to have her say about Susan before she would discuss anything else. Although Sir Thomas surely did not believe Susan had murdered Mr. Yates, he could suspect her of inappropriate behavior with the gentleman, and although he might not condemn her to prison or to transport, she could be exiled from Mansfield Park. And even if her uncle did not believe Mrs. Norris, what about Lady Bertram? Mrs. Norris certainly had influence over her sister. Or what if Mrs. Norris’s stories spread around through the neighborhood; what if they were deemed credible by Fanny and Edmund? Edmund, a clergyman who needed to keep his reputation free of blemish, would never permit her even to visit, let alone to live with them. Susan could be compelled to return to her father’s cramped and disorderly house in Portsmouth.

  ​Even in this weather, with the dark clouds above, Mansfield Park had a serenity that made her love it. Large drops of rain compelled Susan to go back inside and to meet her relations. Perhaps it was better to face them, and to put a stop to Mrs. Norris’s insinuations, and to make sure that Lady Bertram, especially, was not influenced by them.

  ​Sir Thomas was still out, but the ladies were all gathered in the drawing-room. The idea that the murderer was not a horse thief – that there had been no horse thief – had been conveyed to them. The matter was so animating that even Lady Bertram and Julia were participating in the conversation.

  ​“Have you heard, Susan?” said Lady Bertram. “Sir Thomas believes that Mr. Yates was not killed by a horse thief, but by someone else – that a murderer could be among us! It is very disagreeable.”

  ​“Yes, Mama,” said Maria. “We shall have to be careful.”

  ​Julia addressed Susan. “My aunt believes that you may have had a reason for killing him.”

  ​Susan’s agitation increased; if the languid Mrs. Yates could attack her, all her relations could be thinking ill of her. She felt herself grow hot, but she defended herself with all the firmness she could summon. “I did not kill Mr. Yates. In fact, I had very little to do with him. He took my hand; I did not take his. I was eager, in fact, to get away from him.”

  ​Susan surveyed her audience to see if her words made any difference to them. Julia frowned, but Susan could not be sure why; these days she seemed to find everything distasteful. Lady Bertram nodded and smiled, while Mrs. Norris appeared angry. Maria flushed, perhaps not liking the subject of improprieties committed by women, and unexpectedly came to Susan’s defense. “I do not see how any woman could have been strong enough to commit the murder as described. The murderer needed enough strength to strike him on the head with a blow hard enough to disable Mr. Yates – possibly to render him unconscious. Then she would have to have the emotional fortitude to take a knife to his throat. And finally, she would have needed the strength to drag him – and he was a large, heavy man – to a corner of the stable and to cover him with hay. Nay, no woman could have done this!”

  ​Maria’s words were both reasonable and persuasive, and Susan felt a little relieved. Still, she seated herself beside the poor basket and took out a shirt to hem; an occupation for her fingers might reduce the tumult in her mind.

  ​“Of course, Susan had nothing to do with Mr. Yates’s murder,” said Lady Bertram. “She only just met him! Julia had a much better reason for wishing him dead, but it is impossible that she killed him either.”

  ​“Mama!” exclaimed Julia.

  ​“My dear, I just said your killing Mr. Yates was impossible. As Maria said, it must have been some man.”

  ​“But which man?” asked Maria.

  ​They were all silent, but Susan’s mind worked as busily as her fingers. She could not imagine what reason any of the manservants could have for murdering Mr. Yates – unless it had been some accident, where one of the grooms had believed him to be an intruder into the stables, and so had hit him over the head. But why then cut his throat? To disguise the first deed?

  ​But finding a reason for one of the gentlemen to have murdered Mr. Yates was not so difficult. Mr. John Yates had the most obvious motive, for the death of his brother made him the elder son, with the expectation of becoming the Baron of Dexthorpe in the future. As for Tom, what if he had succumbed to temptation and had wagered with Mr. Yates and had lost? He might prefer for Mr. Yates to die than to have to pay him, especially given his promise to his father. As for Sir Thomas, what if he had somehow discovered that Mr. Yates had stolen his snuffbox? Could that have made him angry enough to murder the man?

  ​Imagining her uncle as a murderer struck her as absurd, because surely Sir Thomas would have simply demanded the return of the snuffbox and then banished Mr. Yates from Mansfield Park. But Susan could not be as certain about Mr. John Yates or even about Tom.

  ​She glanced at the other ladies, who also seemed to be plagued by uncomfortable notions, for all of them were quiet.

  ​“It cannot be Tom or John,” Maria said finally.

  ​“Of course, Tom did not kill Mr. Yates,” said Lady Bertram. “Tom had no reason to do such a thing.”

  ​The other ladies, more familiar with Tom’s gambling history, exchanged glances but did not contradict her ladyship.

  ​Then Julia defended her husband. “John could never do such a thing. And if he had, he could never have kept quiet about it.”

  ​Susan wondered if Mr. John Yates’s voluble grief about his brother had been an attempt to conceal other feelings, such as remorse o
r consciousness of guilt, but this was another thought not worth sharing.

  ​No one mentioned Sir Thomas as the possible perpetrator.

  ​“One of the servants,” declared Mrs. Norris. “It must have been one of the servants. Or even that horse thief. We have been too quick to dismiss the horse thief. Perhaps one of the servants has an arrangement with a horse thief and when he was releasing the horse he was discovered by Mr. Yates and so killed Mr. Yates.”

  ​“But the horse was not stolen,” Susan objected. “It returned to Mr. Rushworth at Sotherton.”

  ​“Oh! I have an idea!” exclaimed Lady Bertram.

  ​Everyone stared at Lady Bertram, who did not generally exclaim or have ideas. “What, Sister?” asked Mrs. Norris.

  ​“Why, Mr. Rushworth, of course! He wanted that horse again – everyone keeps saying that it is an extremely valuable animal.”

  ​Maria, who as Mr. Rushworth’s former wife, knew him best, shook her head. “That seems unlikely.”

  ​“I agree; I cannot imagine Mr. Rushworth coming to Mansfield Park in the middle of the night to fetch his horse,” said Julia, who had stayed with Maria and her former brother-in-law shortly after their marriage, and so was also well acquainted with his personality.

  ​“Given Mr. Rushworth’s resources, why would he not purchase the horse back if he wanted it?” said Mrs. Norris. Then, remembering that it was her object to flatter Lady Bertram at every opportunity, continued with: “Still, it is an interesting idea, Sister. After all, we may believe that Mr. Rushworth’s finances are sound, but we do not know that. In fact, when I spoke with him a little while ago, he struck me as a very troubled young man, one who has made nothing but wrong decisions during the last two years. A very interesting and most satisfactory idea, Sister.”

  ​It was especially satisfactory, thought Susan, in that it cleared those at Mansfield Park and blamed a man whom no one in the family much cared for. Because it was so convenient an explanation, the other ladies all made attempts to discover ways and means in which Mr. Rushworth could be culpable, even dismissing Susan’s point that a horse without a rider had been seen walking past the Parsonage during the morning after the murder. And although Susan was not quite prepared to believe that Mr. Rushworth was responsible for the death of Mr. Yates, she was prepared to add him to the list of people who might prefer Mr. Yates to be dead rather than alive. Really, a man had to work hard to create so many enemies in such a short time and concentrated in such a small area of England. How many more were out there?

 

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