The Mansfield Park Murders

by Victoria Grossack

  ​Mrs. Norris glanced around the vestibule, glaring briefly at Susan, and then called out loudly. “Where is dear Edmund? I hope he has not changed his mind,” she said, but with a sniff that implied that she hoped, very much, that he was changing his mind and would not marry Miss Price.

  ​Susan was accustomed to the unpleasant comments of her Aunt Norris, and especially how so many of them were directed towards her sister Fanny. She had wondered if two years’ absence would soften Mrs. Norris’s antagonism; obviously this was not the case.

  ​“Certainly, it must be better to change one’s mind beforehand rather than to marry the wrong person and change one’s mind afterwards,” said Susan, speaking so that Fanny did not have to. Susan seemed to be agreeing with Mrs. Norris, but she intended for her statement to serve as a reminder that Mrs. Norris had been instrumental in forwarding the disastrous match between Maria Bertram and Mr. Rushworth, information that had been given to her by Fanny.

  ​Lady Bertram ignored the implication and the insult; probably she did not even notice them. “Of course, it is unfortunate to marry the wrong person, but Edmund and Fanny have known each other all their lives, so how could they be making a mistake?” she remarked, and then continued, “Fanny, you look very pretty, very pretty indeed. Chapman did excellent work; I am glad I sent her to you. And I am sure that you will make Edmund very happy.” After uttering these kind words, Lady Bertram yawned. “What is taking the carriage so long? I am so anxious, that I cannot bear to wait longer.”

  ​“Perhaps you would like to sit while you wait,” Susan said to her favorite aunt, and guided her towards a stiff chair in the vestibule. Lady Bertram accepted her suggestion and her assistance, while Mrs. Norris appeared angry that she had not thought of this herself. Mrs. Norris said she could supply her sister with a restorative; she had learned many new receipts while in Ireland and had been of great help to the local populace. Lady Bertram said that was not necessary, and then spent her time admiring several items on a shelf, remarking that she hardly ever looked at these curios.

  ​Sir Thomas came from his rooms; as the door opened, Susan caught a glimpse of a woman who strongly resembled Julia – the woman had to be Maria – then the door closed again. Sir Thomas’s expression did not look pleased – what had he and his daughter been discussing? – changed to a smile as he greeted the other feminine members of his family. He asked about the carriage and Mrs. Norris reported that she could see it returning, and that they should make haste, so as not to keep the poor vicar waiting. As the widow of a clergyman herself, she spoke with authority on the matter.

  ​Sir Thomas glanced around the vestibule and discerned that his younger daughter was missing. “Where is Julia? Susan, would you be so good as to fetch her?”

  ​“Of course, Uncle.” Hoping that the presence of Sir Thomas would forestall Mrs. Norris from directing unpleasant remarks to Fanny, Susan hastened up the stairs and went along a corridor to the rooms shared by Julia and her husband.

  ​Susan knocked on the door and a voice invited her to enter. Julia, seated on a chair near an open window, glanced up at Susan. “Is it time to go?”

  ​“Yes, the carriage is returning.”

  ​“Then let us go,” she said, rising slowly and following Susan. Julia placed a hand on the banister as she made her way down the stairs. “Do you know if my sister is here?”

  ​“I understand she is in Sir Thomas’s study. You must be anxious to see her.”

  ​“Yes, I suppose I am,” replied Julia, but with such little enthusiasm that Susan wondered if Julia actually did not want to be with Maria. Perhaps the sisters had quarreled? But when? Maria had been banished to Ireland, while Julia and her husband, as far as Susan knew, had never made the journey to that country. Yet these were assumptions. Julia could have traveled to Ireland; for that matter, Maria could have traveled back to England to see her sister. Their incomes were not supposed to be equal to extra voyages, but people often spent money they could ill afford. Or they could have had a dispute by letter, with some careless phrase causing a rift.

  ​Julia and her husband had arrived three days ago, but so far Julia and Susan had barely spoken. However, Julia had spoken very little to the rest of her family, either, so Susan could not take particular offense. She wondered if something troubled Mrs. Yates. Or was Julia just perpetually exhausted, the way her mother, Lady Bertram, was so often exhausted? At least Aunt Bertram compensated for her fatigue by her general good humor; Julia’s expression was as sour as if someone had poured vinegar into her tea.

  ​There were possible other problems, thought Susan, as they reached the vestibule and Sir Thomas then escorted his wife, sister-in-law and married daughter outside to assist them into the carriage. Financial difficulties – marital discord – perhaps Mr. John Yates was starting to drink! Growing up in Portsmouth, Susan had witnessed such aggravations in many families.

  ​She could not utter any of this speculation aloud, thought Susan, but would have to hold her tongue, watching as the carriage door was shut and the coachman started the slow drive with the three women to the church. Susan glanced at Fanny, who controlled her thoughts as well as her words. Maybe she should learn that from her sister.

  ​Sir Thomas turned and was making his way towards the outside steps as the study door entered. A fair, very pretty woman with a well-formed figure paused on the threshold.

  ​“Oh! I am sorry. I thought you had all departed,” said Mrs. Rushworth, for Mrs. Rushworth it had to be.

  ​“No, my aunts and Mrs. Yates have just left for the church,” said Fanny. “The rest of us will go once the carriage returns.”

  ​“Then pardon my intrusion,” Maria apologized, but she did not retreat into Sir Thomas’s rooms. “Dear Fanny, I wish you all the happiness in the world.”

  ​“Thank you, Maria,” said Fanny.

  ​Susan said nothing, but studied her cousin who was tall, about her own height, very similar to Julia in appearance, and attired in a blue muslin dress.

  ​“You must be Susan,” said Maria, as Fanny went towards the door to speak to Sir Thomas.

  ​“I am,” said Susan quietly.

  ​“After Fanny marries, will you be remaining at Mansfield Park? Or will you be returning to your home in Portsmouth?”

  ​The questions startled Susan. She had stopped thinking of Portsmouth as home for a while now, and found it strange to hear someone refer to it that way for her.

  ​Before Susan could respond to Maria’s questions, or judge if they had any ill intent, Sir Thomas was back in the vestibule. “Maria!” he said, and his voice was full of disapproval. Susan was certain that Maria had been warned to remain out of sight until the ceremony was over.

  ​“I am sorry, Father. I heard the carriage, and I thought you had departed and I could venture out of your room. Besides, I wanted to congratulate my new sister – and you, too, sir, on acquiring such an agreeable daughter.”

  ​Sir Thomas was mollified. “I suppose this meeting will do no harm,” he said.

  ​“I will remove myself from your sight. Congratulations, Fanny – a pleasure to meet you, Cousin Susan.”

  ​And before anyone could protest or object, Mrs. Rushworth stepped back into her father’s study and closed the door behind her.

  ​Sir Thomas apologized to Fanny, but while the bride-to-be assured her uncle and future father-in-law that she was not in the least disturbed by Maria’s presence, no one seemed to notice that Susan was ill at ease.

  ​“Maria wishes to return to Mansfield Park,” he explained to Fanny. “She is sorry for what she did. But I do not see how I can allow her to live here again.”

  ​So, thought Susan, Maria hoped to take her place. If she were to return to Portsmouth, a vacancy next to Lady Bertram, reading to her, writing her letters, assisting her with her carpet work, might be considered available.

  ​Sir Thomas continued, speaking so loudly that Susan was certain that the words penetrated the do
or. “Maria is not happy in Ireland, but reflecting, I do not believe she was ever content here, either. I believe she would be happiest living with Julia, if Julia and her husband would accept her. But they have other concerns.”

  ​Susan speculated what those concerns might be. Julia’s husband, Mr. John Yates, was only the second son, and hence dependent on the whims of his father, the Baron of Dexthorpe, for an income. The baron might not be willing to give money to a son who gave room to Mrs. Rushworth. Sir Thomas’s words could explain Julia’s reserve, her unwillingness to converse or even to sit with the rest of them. If Julia were experiencing pressure from finances or her sister or both, and was not certain what to do, she might choose to avoid them, and she would certainly not confide in a cousin with whom she was barely acquainted.

  ​“I have not yet decided what to do,” continued Sir Thomas, “but for now I will let Maria stay a few weeks. She will not attend the service but will join us for dinner afterwards, as Edmund suggested.”

  ​The curiosity Susan had felt regarding Maria shifted to anxiety; she expected that her cousin would use those few weeks to do her best to regain her parents’ good opinion. Yet why should she feel anxious? Mansfield Park could easily house them both.

  ​Sir Thomas added: “I should not be spoiling your day with this, Fanny.”

  ​In her quiet voice, Fanny assured her uncle that nothing could spoil her day, and Sir Thomas began telling Fanny how happy he was to have her marry Edmund. “I believe you are exactly the wife he needs. You will make him happy.”

  ​“I hope so, Uncle,” said Fanny.

  ​Sir Thomas continued to speak of his great joy at the match – words that surely were overheard by Mrs. Rushworth, and probably caused her pain, for her own match had failed. As they were not addressed to her, and as they were sentiments that Sir Thomas had uttered before, Susan did not attend closely. She moved towards the door, watching for the return of the carriage, and alerted her uncle and her sister when it approached.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Sir Thomas handed his nieces into the carriage, then entered himself, and the horses pulled them in the direction of the church. During the short journey the baronet said how much he would miss Fanny, how grateful he was for all that Fanny had done for them over the years – an unusual statement because in the regular course of things most people would have assumed that he had done much for Fanny – then concluded with a smile: “And you have supplied us with a replacement. We are grateful to you, Susan.”

  ​These words, so satisfactory, reassured Susan that her uncle had no particular plan to exile her in favor of his wayward daughter.

  ​They reached the church and the ceremony began, the wedding as simple and straightforward as suited the cousins. Lady Bertram wiped a few tears of joy from her face as the vicar pronounced them to be man and wife; Sir Thomas’s voice broke afterwards when he congratulated Edmund. Fanny smiled sweetly, and took her new husband’s arm.

  ​The rest of the party did not experience such unalloyed delight. Tom was pleased for his brother but wondered if he would ever find such satisfaction. Julia, who had eloped with her husband, regretted the fact that she had not had a wedding herself, even one this plain, while her husband, Mr. John Yates, was distracted by a letter he had received that morning. Susan, despite her earlier protestations, wondered what life would be like at Mansfield Park without dear Fanny at hand for all her questions and confidences. And Mrs. Norris found fault with the reading of the service, as the current inmate of the Parsonage, a Mr. Hawk, did not match the late Reverend Norris for volume and pronunciation.

  ​“Even Dr. Grant did better,” opined Mrs. Norris to Sir Thomas.

  ​As Susan, having listened to Dr. Grant a few times in the pulpit, detected little difference between him and Mr. Hawk, she wondered if Mrs. Norris were having trouble with her hearing.

  ​“My apologies,” said Mr. Hawk.

  ​Mrs. Norris, who had not realized that the vicar was so close, blushed an unbecoming red, and Susan wondered if her aunt’s vision were declining as well.

  ​“I did not notice any problem,” said Sir Thomas, “and what matters is that Edmund and Fanny are married.”

  ​Mr. Hawk congratulated the new father-in-law, and then explained that he had another point to discuss. He himself had postponed a journey to his ailing mother in another county, but now that this service was done, he wished to visit her. Mr. Hawk needed to be gone some time, for several weeks at least, but he had arranged for a replacement – the very Dr. Grant whom Mrs. Norris had just praised.

  ​“Dr. Grant?” inquired Sir Thomas.

  ​Dr. Grant’s wife, Mrs. Grant, was the sister of Mr. Crawford, the man who had eloped with Maria when she was still married to Mr. Rushworth. Mrs. Grant also had a sister, Miss Mary Crawford, who, before the scandal, had been an object of Edmund’s affections.

  ​Susan, aware of these relationships, listened to Mr. Hawk with greater attention than ever before.

  ​Mr. Hawk was aware of the awkwardness associated with that family and so was ready with his explanation. “Yes, Dr. Grant has business himself in the area, and now that Miss Price has become Mrs. Bertram, he and Mrs. Grant thought they could venture here for a few weeks without disrupting the peace of the parish.”

  ​“Were you aware that my daughter, Mrs. Rushworth, is currently visiting Mansfield Park?”

  ​At this the vicar colored. “No, Sir Thomas, I was not aware of your daughter’s visit.”

  ​“I suppose you could not be. We have been trying to keep it quiet, and apparently, we succeeded. I assume there is no chance that Mr. Crawford will venture to the neighborhood?” Sir Thomas’s tones made his displeasure known.

  ​“I doubt it very much.”

  ​“Then I believe we will survive a few weeks of Dr. Grant, who has every right to come to the Parsonage, as the living is technically his. Please, Mr. Hawk, go to your mother for however long she needs you.”

  ​Mr. Hawk expressed his gratitude and his apologies, added that Dr. Grant was expected to arrive that afternoon, and departed.

  ​The wedding party returned to Mansfield Park, where the new couple would spend their wedding night; the following morning, Edmund and Fanny would borrow Sir Thomas’s carriage to make the journey to Thornton Lacey, where Edmund had his living. As the information about the impending arrival of the Grants could not be kept from anyone, Susan asked her sister if the news affected her.

  ​“For myself, I am not touched,” Fanny assured her. If this had happened a year ago, I might have been concerned for Edmund, but now we are married, and I have complete confidence in him and his happiness. Besides, we leave early tomorrow. I am more concerned about the others, especially Maria. Do you know if the Crawfords are coming too?”

  ​Susan explained that Mr. Crawford was not expected; as for Miss Crawford, she did not know.

  ​At dinner that day, toasts were made to celebrate the happy couple, and then the party inevitably discussed the arrival of the Grants. Lady Bertram said she would be pleased to receive Mrs. Grant, whom she had always found pleasant, while Mrs. Norris, who had disliked her husband’s successor as a matter of principle, and had been especially affronted by his dinners and his wines, as his style of living contradicted all the economies she had practiced while she resided in the Parsonage, muttered something unpleasant about Dr. Grant. Mrs. Rushworth, permitted to sit with her family at dinner, turned pink but declared she was perfectly indifferent. Edmund Bertram and Julia Yates, who had each suffered from the capriciousness of Miss Crawford and Mr. Crawford, said nothing. Both Edmund and Julia were married, and each had the sense to know that displaying any regret on either part would not improve conjugal felicity.

  ​Sir Thomas assured those at the table that he would not object to meeting with either Dr. or Mrs. Grant, although with so many at Mansfield Park, they did not lack for company and could certainly amuse themselves. He suggested they find a different topic. Fashion was attem
pted, but no one had much to say; Fanny and Edmund’s living arrangements were mentioned, but that had been discussed at length before. Tom Bertram was the only hunter, and it was not the hunting season, and Mr. Yates knew better than to talk about the theatre in his father-in-law’s house.

  ​Urged by Julia, Mr. John Yates was about to speak when Sir Thomas recalled that he had received a letter that morning and that some of its contents concerned Fanny. “From your brother, William,” he said. William Price, a year older than Fanny, was a lieutenant in His Majesty’s navy, and a credit to his uncle who had done what he could to create opportunities for his nephew. “He has been looking into some business of mine in Antigua and wrote to me about it, but he included a note for his dear sister on her wedding day.”

  ​Sir Thomas had the letter fetched from his study; the note was passed to Fanny, who could not help wiping away a few tears as she read the words from her favorite brother.

  ​“How long will William be in Antigua, Uncle?” inquired Susan, who sometimes assisted Sir Thomas with his correspondence regarding his estate in the West Indies.

  ​Sir Thomas explained that it was possible that Lieutenant Price’s ship was already sailing back towards England.

  ​“Is everything all right, Father?” asked Tom, who had spent some time with his father at the West Indies family estate several years ago, nominally to learn what mattered in running a sugar plantation, but also to remove himself from the temptation of bad habits and bad connections at home.

  ​“I hope so,” said Sir Thomas gravely, and added, “we shall see.”