Lynn Shepherd - Murder at Mansfield Park

"You would do better to release my throat, sir, and allow me to send my man for the physician. Mr Norris’s life, if not your sister’s, may depend upon it."

The grip slackened, and Crawford took a step back. Maddox nodded to Stornaway, who turned at once, and left the way he had come.

"What in heaven’s name is going on?" said Crawford, as he sank to his knees, and took Mary in his arms.

"The person who killed your wife has just attempted to murder your sister. Thankfully, I was close by, and able to intervene in time."

"But who? Why?"

Maddox looked down at his distraught face, "All in good time, Mr Crawford. The more urgent necessity at this moment is to convey Mr Norris upstairs to his bed. And then we will do whatever is necessary to assist your sister. She is a remarkable young woman, sir. A remarkable young woman indeed."

When Mary opened her eyes it was to see Charles Maddox sitting at her side. She was lying down, with a blanket about her, and there were lamps burning in the room. Something was obscuring her left eye, and she put up her hand to find a thick cloth bandage had been wound about her head. She stared at Maddox for a moment, her vision still blurred, then endeavoured to sit up.

"Have a care, my dear Miss Crawford. You have had a terrible shock, and are not yet fully recovered."

She looked around at the room; her head was painfully heavy, but her mind clearing; she was starting to remember what had happened — and why she now found herself lying on a sopha in the drawing-room at the White House. Mrs Norris had attacked her, and Edmund —

"Where is he?" she said quickly. "He needs help — he was given — "

" — a fatal dose of laudanum, I know. Fear not, Miss Crawford; he is in the best hands. Mr Gilbert and Mr Phillips are upstairs with him now.We were able to get help to him quickly, and purge the system before the poison took full effect. He is still very ill, but they are in hopes that no mortal damage has been done. If he lives, he will have much to thank you for."

Mary turned away, her eyes filling with tears; it was too much. Charles Maddox watched her for a moment.

"I am afraid I cannot offer you the use of my handkerchief; I had to use it to staunch the bleeding. The cut you have sustained is deep, and you lost a quantity of blood. Mr Gilbert has done his best to dress it, but you have, I fear, quite ruined your gown." He smiled. "This time, at least, there is no need to prove that the blood is indeed your own."

"You have cuts on your own hand," she said weakly.

Maddox shook his head dismissively. "I have borne far worse in the past. These are mere scratches, incurred in the process of unlawful entry into Mrs Norris’s house."

Mary nodded slowly; she had no memory of such a thing, but it must indeed have been so, though in all her girlish dreams of a princely rescuer riding to her deliverance on a milk-white palfrey, he had never taken on such a shape as Maddox.

"How can I thank you," she began. "Had you not happened to be there — "

He got up and went to the side-table and poured a little wine, all the while avoiding her eye. "I think you should drink what you can of this," he said. "As to my presence, you will find out soon enough that it was not quite so fortuitous as it might seem. This case has been one of the most demanding of my career. The evidence pointed first one way, and then another. I will confess, Miss Crawford, that until very recently I was fully convinced that it was your brother who was responsible. No-one had a better motive than he."

"But — "

Maddox held up his hand. "As I said, that was what I had thought. You may possibly be aware that I have deployed my men to gather information."

"To listen at doors, you mean."

"On occasion, yes. You look reproving, and no doubt it is not a very commendable activity, but murder is not a very commendable activity either, and as we have discussed together once before, I am sometimes forced to employ methods that fine ladies and gentlemen find distasteful, in order to discover the truth.This was one such circumstance."

He took the empty glass from her hand, and sat down beside her once more.

"When you met Mr Norris at the belvedere, your tête-à-tête was not, as you believed, à deux, but à trois. My man Stornaway was listening."

Mary flushed, and she felt the wound above her eye begin to throb. "That was an outrageous intrusion, Mr Maddox — "

"Perhaps. Perhaps not. It has, however, been of the most vital importance in elucidating this case. Stornaway could not hear every word, but he did discern enough. Thus when Mr Norris came to me and confessed, I knew at once that it was a complete invention from beginning to end. A few pertinent — or impertinent — questions on my part were enough to put the matter beyond question. Unlike almost everyone else in the house, Mr Norris had actually seen Mrs Crawford’s body, so he was able to describe the injuries he had supposedly inflicted with tolerable accuracy. However, he had absolutely no idea that Miss Julia Bertram had died anything other than a perfectly natural, if lamentable, death. I knew, then, that he was lying."

"So why did you arrest him? Why confine him here like a criminal, and let us all believe him guilty? How could you do such a thing?"

"Because I had no alternative. And if you recall, I did go to great lengths to ensure that he would not be removed to Northampton, nor suffer the indignities of the common jail."

Mary turned her face away, and he saw, once more, the thinness of her face, and the hollowness under her eyes; she had clearly suffered much in those two days.

"Besides," he continued, "I wished to keep him here in Mansfield for my own reasons. Given that Mr Norris had clearly not committed the crime, there was only one possible reason why he should have chosen to confess to it. He was protecting someone; someone for whom he felt either duty and responsibility, or great affection. Someone he perceived to be weaker than himself, and less capable of enduring the punishment that must attend such a heinous crime. In short, a woman."

He got to his feet and began to walk about the room, his hands clasped behind his back. "I was convinced, for some time, that this woman was you, Miss Crawford. I had you watched at all times, I intercepted your letters, and subjected your behaviour to the most intense scrutiny. I know your habits, I know all your ways; what time you prefer to breakfast, and where you prefer to walk. I know everything about you — I have made it my business to know. Despite all my efforts, I saw nothing to indicate that you yourself were guilty.You were distressed, but I was forced to acknowledge that this was the natural distress of a woman who knows the man she loves is about to sacrifice himself needlessly for her sake."

Her face was, by now, flushed a deep red, but she did not turn to look at him.

"And so I turned my attention elsewhere. I had initially dismissed Mrs Norris as a possible murderess, on account of her age, but it seems I did not fully appreciate her physical strength, nor her formidable capacity for jealousy and resentment. It was the poisoning of Julia Bertram that forced me to think again. The killing of Mrs Crawford had always seemed to me to be the work of a man — the brutality, the bodily vigour it required — but poisoning is, in my experience, very much a woman’s crime. And who was better placed than Mrs Norris to perpetrate the act? The whole household went to her with their coughs and sore throats and arthritic joints, and no-one — not even you, Miss Crawford — would have questioned her presence in the sick-room."

Mary looked at him in consternation, unable to take in all this new information. "Then why in heaven’s name did you not arrest her at once?"

"I needed proof, Miss Crawford, proof. I needed to hear her say it — admit what she had done in the presence of a witness.You were my only hope. I guessed that you would try to see Mr Norris, and having let it be known that he would be moved on Thursday, I made sure that today was your last opportunity. I knew, likewise, that if Mrs Norris was indeed guilty, she would have to intervene to prevent you speaking to him. And knowing how much she hated you, I relied on that hatred to make her voluble."

"And while you waited for this confession of yours, you stood idly by and watched her try to kill her own son?"

For the first time in their acquaintance, she saw Maddox flush. "That, I confess, was an error on my part. I had not expected her to act so soon. I attended the funeral, as you did, having left Stornaway overseeing matters here."

"And he did nothing whatsoever to prevent her?"

"I have not yet had the opportunity to question him fully, but I suspect he did exactly what I instructed him to do. Watch and wait. But I had not, I regret, anticipated either the speed, or the method she would employ. If she resorted to laudanum a second time, I relied on Mr Norris being able to discern the taste; I did not bargain for the dulling effect of curried mutton. No doubt she chose it for precisely that purpose."

"That does not excuse you, Mr Maddox. You put Mr Norris in deplorable danger, and I can never forgive you. He may, even now, be dying at her hands."

Maddox looked grave. "I will regret that, Miss Crawford, for as long as I live. But there is something I regret even more. That I should have so endangered you. You are brave, and you are capable, and I thought that would be sufficient to protect you.To my infinite regret, I found that it was not, and I am more sorry for that than I can say."

They looked at one another for a moment, then she looked away. "You saved my life," she said, her voice breaking.

He smiled gently. "You are most welcome, Miss Crawford. And now I will leave you. I hear a little commotion in the hall, and I fancy your brother has returned with Mrs Grant."

He gave a deep bow, and went out into the garden, leaving her wondering at what had happened, and wondering still more at what was yet to come.

A week later, Mary was sitting in the garden at the parsonage, a parasol at her side, and a book, unopened, in her lap. It was such a lovely day that her sister had finally relented and permitted her to take the air outside. It was the first time she had been out of doors since the events at the White House, and she breathed the fresh air with the purest delight, noticing how the last flowers of the summer had already started to fade, and the first edges of gold were appearing on the leaves. But her pleasure was not wholly unalloyed. She had not yet been able to visit the Park, whither Edmund had now been removed, and she knew that his recovery was neither as complete, nor as swift, as Mr Gilbert had hoped. They had kept it from her at first, fearing a relapse in her own condition, but Mrs Grant had, at last, admitted that while Mr Norris was now out of danger, the family were apprehensive for his future health. Mary had not yet heard from Mr Gilbert that morning, and when she saw her sister approaching from the house, she presumed at first that she was coming with a message from the physician.

"There is someone to see you, Mary," said Mrs Grant. "I have explained that you have already seen Sir Thomas today, and are still too delicate to receive so many visitors, but he will not be gainsaid."

Mary smiled. "Let me hazard a guess — it is, perhaps, Mr Maddox to whom you refer?"

"The man has scarcely been out of the house since the day you — well, since the day of your accident. I am more than half tempted to start charging him board and lodging."

"I do not recommend it!" laughed Mary. "I am sure our table is better stocked than Mr McGregor’s, so he will very likely take you at your word, and then where will you be?"

Mrs Grant smiled, despite herself. "With an unwanted lodger taking up the only spare room, that’s where I would be. How do you go on with your book?"

Mary smiled. "Not well. It is very entertaining — the author blends a great deal of sense with the lighter matter of the piece, and holds up an excellent lesson as to the dangers of too great a sensibility, but I fear my spirits are not yet equal to the playfulness of the style."

"Well, if you do not wish to read, perhaps you have energy enough for conversation? Shall I fetch Mr Maddox? He says there is something he wishes to discuss with you. I’ll wager it’s about what is to be done with Mrs Norris — there have been messages going to and fro between him and the magistrate for the best part of a week. Mrs Baddeley told me she is to be shut up in a private establishment in another part of the country — some where remote and private, by all accounts, and with her own mad-doctor in constant attendance. If you ask me, she should have paid the price for what she did, but it appears she has quite lost her reason, and become quite raving, and Dr Grant says that even if there were a possibility of her ever standing trial, the jury would be forced to acquit her by reason of insanity. As you might imagine, Sir Thomas will not hear of a public asylum."