Murder at Mansfield Park (22 page)

She was still pondering the effect all this might have on Henry, as she made her way down the main staircase some time later, and saw Maddox in deep conversation with his two assistants in the entrance hall; Maddox was wearing yet another fine and expensive frock-coat, while the men were in riding-dress, and to judge by their appearance, had been on horseback that morning. They were evidently discussing a matter of great import with their employer, and the taller of the two pointed more than once at a piece of paper he held in his hand. As Mary drew closer Maddox made towards her, with a smile that spoke of a development of some significance.

‘My dear Miss Crawford!’ he said, with a smile. ‘You will be pleased to hear that I have already made considerable progress. My men have been enquiring at local inns hereabouts, and have discovered that a young lady answering Miss Price’s description was seen at the White Hart in Thornton Lacey some four days past. She was observed alighting from the London coach that evening, and, given the foul weather, decided to take a room for the night.The landlord says she would not give her name, and seemed concerned to muffle herself up in her cloak as much as she was able, and avoid all intercourse with other guests. She then hired a pony and trap early the following morning, but has not been seen since; indeed the landlord begins to be somewhat incommoded by the vast quantity of trunks and band-boxes she left behind.’

It took some moments for Mary to comprehend the full import of his words, and her thoughts returned at once to her conversation with Tom Bertram. She knew that Fanny had been in no want of money when she left Mansfield, but the purchase of such a number of new clothes and effects seemed, once again, to argue for an elopement. And yet she had returned alone just as she had left, and wearing no ring. It was inexplicable. But at that moment, Mary became aware, on a sudden, that Maddox’s eyes were fixed upon her.

‘I congratulate you, sir,’ she said quickly, wondering whether this was the response he had expected, ‘you have been most thorough.What did the owner of the pony-trap have to say?’

Maddox inclined his head. ‘It is my turn to congratulate
you
, Miss Crawford; that is exactly the question I myself asked. Happily, Stornaway encountered no difficulties in tracking the man down, and has only recently returned from examining him. The man was barely coherent, I am afraid, and a little the worse from spending most of last night in the inn, but it seems the young lady demanded to be set down at the back gate of the estate; the man has not lived long in the neighbourhood, and had no idea that his early morning passenger was the celebrated Miss Price of Mansfield Park. He did remember that it had been raining hard, and the weather still looked ominous, and the young woman did not seem to be shod for walking—as you yourself pointed out to me only yesterday, Miss Crawford. He expressed some concern for her boots as Miss Price was getting down from the trap, but all he received by way of reply was a rather tart little remark about there being “plenty more where those came from”. Curious, would you not say? And now, if you would be so good as to accompany me to the drawing-room?’

‘I do not understand—’

‘Fear not,’ he said cheerfully, already some yards ahead of her. ‘It will all become clear, soon enough.’

When the footmen threw open the doors Mary was startled to see that the whole family was assembled, with the sole exception of Julia Bertram. Lady Bertram and her elder daughter were sitting silently on the sopha; Mrs Norris was in her customary chair; Edmund stood by the French windows, his back to the company; and Tom Bertram was standing before the fire, his hands behind his back, in just such a position as his father might have assumed. All were wearing deep mourning, which only served to add to the portentous mood of the room.

Mary turned at once to Maddox. ‘There must be some mistake—you cannot require my presence here—’

‘On the contrary, Miss Crawford,’ he said, taking her firmly by the arm, ‘I have a question I must put to everyone at Mansfield, and it will save a good deal of time if I may ask you that question now, rather than being compelled to make a separate journey to the parsonage later in the day.’

‘Very well,’ said Mary. She knew she must look as confused and perplexed as any of them, and with an attempt at self-possession that was far indeed from her true state of mind, she walked silently towards the sopha, and sat down next to Maria.

Maddox assumed a place in the centre of the room, and began to pace thoughtfully up and down the carpet; his mind seemed elsewhere, but he could hardly be unaware of the eyes fixed upon him, or the painful apprehension his behaviour was occasioning. Mary looked on, conscious of the variety of emotions which, more or less disguised, seemed to animate them all: Maria seemed concerned to affect an appearance of haughty indifference, while a dull grief was discernible in her mother’s face; Tom Bertram looked serious, and Mrs Norris furious and resentful; of Edmund’s humour she could not judge.

‘May I begin by thanking you for your prompt compliance with my request for an audience this morning,’ Maddox began, in a manner that was perfectly easy and unembarrassed.‘As I have been explaining to Miss Crawford, I have just now received certain most interesting information. We have, at last, a witness.’ He stopped a moment, as if to ensure that his announcement would produce the greatest possible effect.

‘Miss Price was seen by a local man, at the back gate to Mansfield, three mornings ago, some time between eight and nine o’clock. Since she never reached the Park, I believe we may safely presume that she met her death at, or around, that time.’

There was a general consternation at this: Edmund turned abruptly round, his face drawn in shock and dismay; Maria gasped; and Lady Bertram drew out her handkerchief and began to cry quietly. Mary was, perhaps, the only one with sufficient presence of mind to observe Maddox at this moment, and she saw at once that he was equally intent on observing
them
. ‘So he has contrived this quite deliberately,’ she thought; ‘he plays upon our feelings in this unpardonable fashion, merely in order to scrutinise our behaviour, and assess our guilt.’ But angry as she was, she had to own a reluctant admiration for his method, even if it owed more to guile and cunning, than it did to the accustomary operations of justice. There doubtless were inveterate criminals so hardened to guilt and infamy as to retain control over their countenances at such a moment, but the members of the Bertram family could not be numbered among them. Maddox had succeeded in manoeuvring them all into displaying their most private sentiments in the most public fashion.

‘My purpose, then,’ he continued, his calm and composed manner providing the most forcible contrast with the state of perturbation all around him, ‘is to ask you all, in turn, where you were that morning. It will be of the utmost usefulness to my enquiries. So, shall we begin?’

This was all too much for Mrs Norris, who had sat swelling for some minutes past, and now shewed two spots of livid colour on her cheeks. ‘This is the most extraordinary impertinence! Question
us
, indeed! And in such a barbarously uncouth manner! When it is as plain as it could possibly be that it must have been one or other of those blackguardly workmen—why we do not cart the lot of them off to the assizes at once I
still
cannot conceive. A night or two without bread or water and we would soon have our confession—I never did like the look of that tall one with the eye patch—’

But here she was interrupted. ‘My dear aunt,’ said Tom, ‘I am sure we all wish to see this dreadful matter cleared up as soon as possible, do we not? If it will assist Mr Maddox, what objection can we have? It is, after all, quite impossible that any of
us
were responsible.’

Mary wondered whether Tom’s readiness to accede to Maddox’s request owed more to his knowledge of his own complete innocence in the affair, or to a recognition that he had brought this man into the house, and would be the one answerable if the enterprise should fail.

‘I shall set the example, Mr Maddox,’ he said. ‘You may begin with me. I was in my room until ten o’clock, and after a late breakfast I spent an hour with my father’s bailiff, Mr Fletcher. He will be able to confirm that.’

Maddox nodded. ‘And her ladyship?’

Lady Bertram looked up; her eyes were heavy, and she seemed not to have heard the question. ‘I am sorry, were you speaking to me?’ she said, in the languid voice of one half-roused.

Tom turned towards his mother. ‘Mr Maddox wishes to know how you occupied your time on Tuesday last, ma’am. Most particularly the time before breakfast.’

Lady Bertram seemed bewildered that anyone should even ask such a thing. ‘I was in my room, where else would I be? Chapman came to dress me as usual, and I had a dish of chocolate. I do not understand—what can this have to do with poor dear Fanny?’

Her tone was becoming agitated, and Tom endeavoured to soothe her, saying at once, ‘Oh no, ma’am—I am sure nobody suspected you!’

‘Quite so,’ said Maddox, with the most deferential of bows. ‘I seek merely to obtain the fullest possible picture of where everyone in the house was at that particular time. There is no cause to distress yourself, your ladyship.’

‘I am very happy to tell you where I was, Mr Maddox,’ said Mary, in an effort to draw attention away from Lady Bertram. ‘I spent the morning in the garden with my sister, cutting roses.’

‘Indeed,’ said Maddox in a steady tone. ‘And
before
that, Miss Crawford?’

Mary flushed; she had quite forgotten her fruitless excursion to the post-office, and the conviction was of a sudden forced upon her that Maddox was already fully apprised of every aspect of her movements that day. ‘Well, I did walk to the village that morning—’

‘So I have been informed. I am delighted that you have elected to be so thorough in your disclosure. Did you see anyone during this no doubt pleasant little walk? Aside from the post-boy, of course?’

Mary shook her head. ‘No, I did not.’

The expression on Maddox’s face was unfathomable. ‘That is a pity. Let us hope it does not prove to be significant.’

Mary opened her mouth to reply, but Maddox had already turned his attention to Maria. ‘Perhaps Miss Bertram might now be so good?’

Maria might look a good deal thinner and paler than she had used to do, but she appeared to have assumed once more all the hauteur owing to a
Miss Bertram
; it was with the pride and dignity of a daughter of a baronet that she met the thief-taker’s gaze. ‘I was somewhat indisposed, as I recall. I remained in my room all morning, with my maid in attendance.’

‘You did not speak to anyone during all that time? Aside from your maid, of course.’

Maria shook her head. ‘No. I saw no-one.’

Maddox gave a broad smile, and linked his hands behind his back. ‘Your clarity is admirable, Miss Bertram. And you, ma’am?’ he said, turning to Mrs Norris. ‘Perhaps you also took a walk in the park? I gather Miss Crawford was not alone in seeking air and exercise that morning—I am told Miss Julia was also some where in the vicinity.’

‘Well, I most certainly was
not
. I have better things to do than wandering about on wet grass catching my death of cold. I was in my store-room, sir, as any respectable matron would be at that time of the morning. And you need not trouble to question my son, neither.
He
did not return from Cumberland until just before luncheon, and he left for the parsonage almost immediately, when we heard what had happened to Julia.’

Maddox was not the only one in the room to turn towards Edmund at this; he was still standing in the window, but Mary saw at once that his demeanour was not as collected as it had been.

‘Is this true, Mr Norris?’ asked Maddox genially. ‘The briefest of discussions with the stable-hands, would, of course, resolve all doubt.’

‘For heaven’s sake, tell him, Edmund,’ said Mrs Norris impatiently. ‘Let us have done with this, once and forever.’

Edmund gave a slight cough. ‘Mr Maddox will have no need to trouble the grooms. As it happens, I arrived in Mansfield somewhat earlier than my mother might have supposed. The difference is easily accounted for: I was glad to be released, after such a journey, from the confinement of a carriage, and ready to enjoy all the luxury of a walk in the fresh air, to collect my thoughts.’

Maddox gave a disarming smile. ‘It seems that the park was more than usually crowded on Tuesday last. You had, I conclude, much on your mind?’

Edmund appeared to hesitate, before regaining his confidence. ‘Evidently. But my private cogitations are my own affair, and can have no conceivable bearing on your enquiries, Mr Maddox.’

Maddox was unperturbed. ‘I will determine what does, and does not, have a bearing on my enquiries, Mr Norris. So how long did you devote to this perambulation? Let me be absolutely clear: at what time, precisely, did you return to Mansfield that day?’

Edmund flushed. ‘I am not entirely sure. Perhaps eleven o’clock.’

Maddox took a memorandum book from his pocket, and opened it with a theatrical flourish. ‘According to the information supplied to my assistant yesterday by the stable-boy, you arrived just before
nine
o’clock. He is quite sure of this, because the great clock at Mansfield happened to chime as he was unharnessing the horses. I say again, it was not eleven o’clock, as you claim, but
nine
. Having employed one of Sir Thomas’s carriages for the journey, you naturally came directly to the stables here, but then, rather than going into the house, you told your valet that you would, instead, walk across the park to the White House. Rather an irregular way of proceeding, would you not say?’

‘What do you mean to imply by that?’

Maddox snapped his pocket-book shut. ‘I imply nothing; I enquire merely. However, I am sure I would not be alone in regarding it as rather curious for a gentleman in your position, returning to a house in turmoil, and a family in dire need of him, to dawdle among the delphiniums for upwards of three hours.’

Edmund’s colour was, by this time, as heightened as Mary had ever seen it, and it had not escaped her notice that, whether he knew it or not, he had reverted to the stiff and officious mode of discourse that had characterised his manner on their first acquaintance, and which her brother had once found so entertaining. There was no possibility of entertainment now; knowing him as she did, Mary feared, rather, that the alteration in his elocution betrayed a mind profoundly ill at ease.