CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Sir Thomas, despite his fondness for Lady Bertram, was not persuaded by her theory that Mr. Rushworth had murdered Mr. George Yates. The baronet did not wish to cause alarm in the household, and to reassure everyone he reminded them that the death had taken place in the stables and not in the house. Still, he felt obliged to warn everyone to take care and to report anything suspicious. Sir Thomas’s grave speeches, meant to calm people, actually made them all nervous, and the ladies lingered long in the drawing-room that night. No one wished to be alone.
But mortals cannot do without sleep, and eventually everyone, from the baronet and his lady to the least in the kitchens, was compelled to retire and rest. The next morning, they awoke to discover no murdered corpses in their midst; no one was even missing.
The full accounting of souls reassured the ladies and most of the servants, but Sir Thomas was not content; he still needed to determine what had happened. So that day, after dealing with other pressing matters, he again questioned the servants in the stables about the night of Mr. George Yates’s death. Susan did not assist during his conversations with those in the stables, but she did help her uncle review the reports of those he interviewed.
The men and boys who worked in the stables had a routine, and on that day and night they reported that they had maintained their usual habits. They walked, fed, and watered the horses before nightfall, then put the horses in their stalls, after which the boys, who did not live on the estate, went home and who therefore had seen nothing. When darkness fell, all had been as usual. The men who cared for the horses slept in quarters close by, with Wilcox, the old coachman, having the nearest rooms, while the grooms shared an upstairs apartment. Wilcox would have had the best view of anything, but he was older and a little deaf. Wilcox said he had not seen Mr. Yates that evening or that night, but he had seen a young woman near the stables sometime after dark.
The old coachman explained that during the night at some point he had risen, had gone to a table to pour himself a glass of water, had glanced through the little window and had seen what appeared to be a young woman leaving the area. He did not know the time – perhaps midnight, perhaps a little after, he could not say exactly – and he was not certain who the woman was, only that she seemed to be walking in the direction of the main house.
Sir Thomas told Susan that he had encouraged Wilcox to guess who the young woman might have been.
The old coachman said that he had assumed the woman was the housemaid Ann Jones, coming to see Stephen Jackson, because they sometimes did spend time together. He was aware the pair had quarreled recently, and thought that they might have been attempting to reconcile. Wilcox reported that the woman had walked alone, which now that he thought about it, was rather strange. Jackson would have insisted on accompanying Ann Jones back to the house, no matter that the distance was only a hundred yards. On the other hand, if they were still quarreling she might have refused his protection, and besides, Wilcox was not completely sure that the woman had been Ann Jones. He could only say that she had had the gait of a younger, rather than an older, woman. It had never occurred to Wilcox that the young woman might have done anything to one of the horses, and although Wilcox had few details to offer about the young female, he could say with certainty that no horse had been with her when he looked out the window. Sir Thomas asked if the young woman might have been with Mr. George Yates – to the coachman, the murder victim was less important than the horses – and Wilcox answered no, he had not seen Mr. Yates that night. But he had only looked out the window for a minute or two, so he could not answer for what had happened the rest of the night.
The other men, including Stephen Jackson, said they had seen nothing that evening nor during the night. Stephen Jackson also said he had not spoken with Ann Jones that evening. Jackson shared a room with another groom, Cooper, who confirmed that Ann Jones had certainly not been in their room that night; that she had never, as far as Cooper knew, ever been in their room. As to whether or not Jackson had been in the room all night, Cooper could not say. He was a sound sleeper.
Sir Thomas related the substance of these interviews to Susan, who took notes, and then the baronet shook his head. “None of the men saw any other men; no one even saw Mr. Yates! Wilcox only saw a woman, and I do not see how a woman could have committed such a brutal act.”
Susan assisted at her uncle’s interview with Ann Jones. The housemaid said that she had been spending time with Stephen Jackson; he had been courting her; everyone was aware of that. But she had not been with Jackson on the night of Mr. George Yates’s murder, and she had not gone to the stables on her own. Besides, Jackson usually came to the house, he did, and they sat in a room near the kitchens while she played the pianoforte for the servants. After all, meals were served in the house, not in the stables, and furthermore, as a housemaid she had to keep clean. In the stables, there was so much dirt, so Stephen and she usually met in the house.
But, as everyone could confirm, Stephen Jackson and Ann Jones had had a falling out, and they had not reconciled on the night in question, or any moment before or since. And then she burst into tears, such that the interview had to be terminated then and there.
Susan escorted Ann Jones to her little room on the top floor. Susan asked if there were anything she could do for her, but the housemaid refused; she said she would wash her face and then resume her duties. Susan went back to her uncle’s study.
Sir Thomas remarked that he hoped the housemaid’s spirits would soon improve. “I do not wish to be harsh, but we cannot have such tears. Who could imagine that Stephen Jackson could inspire such passion? However, as Jones and Jackson both affirm that she did not go to the stables that night, I do not see how she could have anything to do with the death of Mr. Yates.”
Susan said that before this, Ann Jones had always been steady, and Sir Thomas agreed that Baddeley had told him that Ann Jones, up until the last few days, had been a model housemaid: diligent, capable and cheerful.
“If the woman Wilcox saw was not Ann Jones, then who was she?” was the question Sir Thomas wanted to answer.
Sir Thomas, with his niece’s assistance, continued the interviews, but seemed to learn little of use regarding the movements of people the night that Mr. George Yates was murdered. He did learn from a scullery maid that a woman had been seen on the stairs early in the morning, but no one could say exactly who the woman was, only that the woman had appeared to be attired for sleep and not for going outside. But this was not exactly suspicious, for the house was full of women, and a woman walking on the stairs in a dressing gown shortly before dawn probably had nothing to do with a woman outside near the stables around midnight.
The only other interesting new piece of information from the servants came from Cook, who complained that this morning, this very morning, someone had taken three plain rolls from the kitchens, out of a set of rolls she had been saving for one of the servants’ meals. Why not a cake? Or a fancy muffin? No, oddly enough, just three plain rolls. She could not understand it. Why would anyone commit murder for three ordinary rolls?
Sir Thomas did his best to calm down the cook – really, distressed servants were not good for keeping things comfortable at Mansfield Park, and the cook’s agitation was perturbing the rest of the kitchen staff – and said he believed the two events were unrelated. Even if three plain rolls had been stolen from the kitchens, no new dead bodies had been found. Cook was not entirely convinced, however, and was certain dire deeds were about to be committed. There might not be a horse thief, but certainly there was a bread thief, and that thief was within the walls of Mansfield Park!
“It may not be my place to give advice on such things,” said Cook, “but my opinion is, if we discover who is stealing my bread, we will discover a great deal – such as who is hitting people on the head and who is slashing their throats.”
Susan, who was present for this conversation, recommend
ed that Cook prepare a few extra loaves, to make sure that Mansfield Park was well supplied.
“That will mean using more flour,” said Cook, but Sir Thomas said he was certain that Mansfield Park could afford to use a little more flour each day, at least until the bread thief was discovered.
“Take this as a compliment,” Susan suggested. “Your bread is so delicious that someone is willing to steal it.”
“Yes, your bread is excellent,” said Sir Thomas, and the praise soothed Cook, especially as the baronet assured her that the matter would be investigated.
When Cook returned to the kitchens, Sir Thomas asked Susan what she thought; she replied she did not see how it could be relevant.
Over the rest of that day and the next, Sir Thomas interviewed all the Mansfield Park servants, with Susan taking notes. None of them reported anything unusual regarding the night in question; all claimed to have gone to their rooms and had not departed until their usual time to rise in the morning; no one, as far anyone knew, had any reason to wish for Mr. Yates to die. All of the women declared that they had been nowhere near the stables during that night, something they would certainly remember because it would be so unusual.
Finally, done with the interviews of servants, Sir Thomas spoke again with the ladies.
“Someone saw a young woman near the stables?” asked Mrs. Norris. “Who told you that?”
Sir Thomas said he did not wish to reveal his sources, a position that irritated Mrs. Norris, as her brother-in-law had apparently confided this information in their niece. After a pointed frown at Susan, as if she were considering suggesting that the young woman near the stables could have been Miss Price, Mrs. Norris chose another approach. “But you do not think that a woman could have done the deed.”
Sir Thomas agreed that he still considered it unlikely. Nevertheless, the young woman, if she had been in the vicinity of the stables that night, might have witnessed something. At the very least she could assist in fixing the time of when the murder had not occurred.
Mrs. Norris nodded, then shook her head. “I cannot imagine what sort of business any of the young ladies of Mansfield Park could have near the stables late at night. As for the young female servants, that is a different matter. Perhaps one of them is lying. Or your witness, whoever he may be, is mistaken. Are you certain the young woman – if indeed there was a young woman – was from Mansfield Park?”
Sir Thomas said that, as the woman could not be identified, he could not be certain she was from Mansfield Park, only that she had been seen walking in the direction of the house.
Sir Thomas asked if Mrs. Norris had been on the stairs during the night. Mrs. Norris said that indeed she had, going through the house, making sure everything was in order, as she had been wont to do when she had stayed so many times at Mansfield Park before. She did not have confidence in the younger servants, and Baddeley was growing older. But as the murder had taken place in the stables and not on the stairs, she did not see how that was relevant.
The baronet sighed, dismissed Mrs. Norris with some difficulty and spoke again with the other ladies of Mansfield Park, including Lady Bertram, who, in the dark, thanks to her elegant figure, might have been mistaken for a young woman. Lady Bertram, Julia and Maria did not think they had left their rooms that night, although Lady Bertram was not certain – Pug sometimes wanted to leave her room and she rose to open the door, so the dog could go through it – but she did not remember if that had been one of the nights. Lady Bertram was positive, however, that she had not gone to the stables on that night, or on any other night. “If I had done that, I am certain I would remember,” and both Sir Thomas and Susan agreed with her.
“We are not advancing,” Sir Thomas said, after several hours had slipped by. “Mrs. Norris was correct about one thing: not everyone may be telling the truth. Susan, please ask Julia to rejoin us.”
Julia, Sir Thomas thought, was most likely to know something – if not about the events of that night, then about her deceased brother-in-law. “Who is most likely to profit from the death of Mr. George Yates?”
Julia frowned. “I suppose we – John and I – are the most obvious beneficiaries. But I retired early that evening, and did not leave my room until morning. And I cannot imagine that John would do such a thing.” Mr. John Yates had played at billiards with Mr. Yates and with Tom that evening, but when he had come upstairs, Julia had detected nothing unusual in his manner, and as far as she knew, he had not left their chamber during the night.
Susan could corroborate part of Julia’s story. Mr. John Yates had passed her on the stairs as she was taking the poor basket back to the drawing-room, and she had encountered Mr. George Yates, still very much alive, afterwards.
Sir Thomas repeated his previous question, wanting to know if anyone else could have preferred Mr. Yates dead and not alive.
Julia sighed. Possibly. Probably. Mr. George Yates had not been especially respectable, and she knew he was disliked by many. He had ruined the reputations of several young women and the fortunes of several young men.
Susan remembered Julia’s caution to her with respect to Mr. George Yates. Mrs. Yates’s warning might have not been intended as a slight, but rather had been an attempt to guard her from an unscrupulous man. Susan felt a burst of gratitude towards her cousin.
Sir Thomas, on the other hand, was indignant. “Your husband invited this blackguard here, to Mansfield Park?” And he recounted Mr. Yates’s offences: importuning Susan, making an effort to steal his precious snuffbox, repeatedly tempting Tom into a game and probably tricking the hapless Mr. Rushworth into making a foolish wager.
Julia attempted to defend her husband’s invitation of Mr. Yates; the man had been his brother, the future Lord Dexthorpe, and his time at Mansfield Park was expected to last only a night or two. But Julia agreed with her father that she wished that Mr. Yates had not come. It would have been better for everyone, most of all for Mr. Yates, who might still be alive if he had not stayed at Mansfield Park.
Sir Thomas, perhaps conceding that the injury done to Mr. Yates at Mansfield Park was probably more severe than any inflicted by Mr. Yates, agreed that the visit had proved most unfortunate. Then, in a calmer tone, the baronet asked: “Can you think of any reason your brother-in-law would have to go to the stables late at night?”
Julia shook her head; she knew of nothing specific, then asked why anyone went to the stables, at any time of day. “Father, I am sorry for all the trouble this is causing, but I can answer few of your questions. I did not know my husband’s brother well, and during his visit here, we hardly spoke. You would do better to speak to John. I am certain that John and my brother will return as soon as they can.” She had received a letter from her husband, she said; they were already at C— in Lincolnshire, and would return as soon as they could.
Susan attempted to reckon when that could be. Mr. Yates and Mr. Bertram had only departed two days before – a day’s journey there, a day’s journey back, with time during the visit to bury the deceased.
Sir Thomas asked if Mr. John Yates would not remain a few days at C— in order to condole with his father. Lord Dexthorpe must be suffering severely; the loss of a child was a great grief; surely he would want the consolation of his younger son, now his only living child.
Susan was not so sure of this. She had never met the Baron of Dexthorpe, but she had heard that he was a hard, unforgiving, ungenerous man, very different from the sweet-tempered, tender-hearted Mr. John Yates.
Julia said that she still believed that her husband would return to Mansfield Park as quickly as he could, and in the letter she had received from him, he had written that was his intention. The county, Lincolnshire, was not far from Northamptonshire, and therefore she was certain that John and Tom would soon be back at Mansfield Park.
Sir Thomas asked his daughter several additional questions, but Julia was unable to offer any further intell
igence. She asked if she could be excused and he allowed her to leave his study.
Susan remained, and asked her uncle how he would like to continue.
“You saw Mr. Yates on the stairs.”
“Yes,” Susan said, with a little anxiety. She did not like to recall that encounter, and she worried, too, that Sir Thomas could suspect her. She sat up straighter.
“You said that, as you came up the stairs, Mr. Yates was holding something in his hand, that he was examining the object by candlelight. Do you know what it was?”
Susan hesitated. “I could not see it well, but I believed it was his watch. It was small enough to be in his hand and it gleamed gold as if it were a watch. And before he placed it in his pocket he said it was a watch, a watch that needed repair.”
“Do you know if a watch was found among his belongings?”
Susan did not know. “Why, Uncle?”
Sir Thomas shook his head. “If Mr. Yates stole my snuffbox, then perhaps he stole something else. But nothing else was discovered in his things, at least nothing that was recognized as belonging to Mansfield Park.”
Sir Thomas rose and walked to the window and gestured in the direction of the stables. “Let us ask again: why did Mr. Yates go to the stables that night? Perhaps if we determine why he went there, we will understand why he was murdered. We should consider Julia’s version: why does anyone go to the stables?”
The Mansfield Park Murders Page 11
