The Mansfield Park Murders

by Victoria Grossack

  ​Susan considered. “If one does not work or live at the stables, one goes there in order to get a horse. Usually, in order to go for a ride, or even to depart. The fact that his horse was saddled implies that he was doing this.”

  ​Sir Thomas agreed, but he had several objections. “That is true; that is the most common reason for going to the stables. But several things are unusual about Mr. Yates’s behavior. First, it was late at night, a strange time to go for a ride, unless some emergency made it necessary. Second, he went to the stables, instead of asking for a groom to bring the horse to the front door. Third, if he were planning to depart Mansfield Park, why were his effects still in his room?”

  ​With respect to the potential emergency, Susan suggested bad weather – after all, the following day it had rained excessively – or some appointment that Mr. Yates urgently needed to keep. Given the late hour, Mr. Yates might have preferred to go to the stables to fetch the horse himself, rather than to disturb the grooms. She could not explain, however, why he had left his possessions in his room. “Why else would one go to the stables, Uncle?”

  ​The baronet said that was the question. “To examine the horse?”

  ​They discussed this possibility. Mr. Yates had a new horse and was concerned about one of the shoes. But neither of them could see how this could lead to his being killed. Sir Thomas asked if Susan could think of any other reason Mr. Yates would go to the stables late at night.

  ​“Perhaps he was wakeful, and wanted to take a stroll. His brother indicated that he kept late hours. Mr. Yates needed an object for his stroll, and the stables supplied one.”

  ​Sir Thomas agreed that Susan could be correct, but he did not see how that helped determine why Mr. Yates had been killed. And Mr. Yates had not just been killed, but murdered – first he had been hit on the head and then his throat had been cut. Mr. Yates would have had to have been extremely unlucky, for a casual stroll to lead to his death.

  ​“What if he went to the stables to meet with someone?” asked Susan. Then she added: “But it would have to be someone that Mr. Yates could not have met with easily in the house, because the stables are not nearly as comfortable as Mansfield Park.”

  ​Sir Thomas agreed. The most logical people to meet in the stables were those who worked in the stables: the coachman, Wilcox, and the grooms, and a few stable boys. But the baronet could not understand what business – other than perhaps the hoof of Mr. Yates’s horse – the murdered man could have had with any of them. “I do not see how Mr. Yates could have met with any of them before this visit, nor what business could have caused any of them to murder him.” Besides, Sir Thomas knew all the men, had known them all for many years, and had confidence in their characters. None of the men would behave in such a manner. As for the stable boys, the baronet was less acquainted with them. Perhaps one of them was strong enough to do the deed, but why? And the boys did not live on the estate, but in the houses of some of his tenants, so Sir Thomas was at a loss to explain why any of them would have been in the stables after dark. “I will speak to their parents, but I do not see what that will gain. Perhaps Mrs. Norris is correct, and the murderer was a horse thief.”

  ​They discussed Sir Thomas’s tenants. Perhaps one of the men had decided to steal the horse, and Mr. Yates had tried to stop him and had been killed during the altercation. And then the man, alarmed by what he had done, panicking, had made sure that Mr. Yates was dead in order to rid himself of a potential witness, and then had released the horse to give himself more time to escape.

  ​“Has any horse ever been stolen from the stables before?” inquired Susan.

  ​Sir Thomas said no, none ever had, but that could explain why this attempt had been so flawed. “Perhaps we are dealing with a first-time offender. An amateur.” Presumably even horse thieves had to learn what they were doing. The baronet said he would meet with his steward to inquire if any of his tenants were likely culprits. And he sighed, because such suspicious queries were not likely to keep his tenants content; he would have to make sure his steward proceeded with the utmost tact.

  ​Susan nodded then returned to their former topic. “What about the young woman seen near the stables? What if Mr. Yates had gone to the stables to meet with her?”

  ​Sir Thomas pointed out they had already agreed that meeting in the house would be far more convenient for any of the ladies residing at Mansfield Park.

  ​“Unless the woman does not live at Mansfield Park,” said Susan.

  ​“Whom do you have in mind?” asked Sir Thomas. From what he understood, Mr. Yates had never been in this neighborhood before; with what woman could he have arranged a meeting?

  ​Susan then suggested Miss Crawford. “She and Mr. Yates were acquainted. And Miss Crawford would not have wished to come to the house.”

  ​This suggestion pleased Sir Thomas, because it was so convenient. Miss Crawford was not associated with Mansfield Park, whereas everyone else – residents, servants, tenants – would stain his estate with guilt. However, Sir Thomas was conscious enough to realize his bias. “A meeting with Miss Crawford – especially if they wished it to be secret – would explain why it took place in the stables. I will ask Wilcox if the young he saw that night could have been Miss Crawford. And if he is certain she was headed in the direction of the house.”

  ​“Do you think Miss Crawford, with her slight frame, could have dragged Mr. Yates into the corner?” asked Susan.

  ​Sir Thomas agreed that would have been difficult for the lady in question – likewise, it was difficult to imagine Miss Crawford either overpowering Mr. Yates or cutting his throat – but Miss Crawford might still have been the woman Yates met in the stables – if Mr. Yates had met a woman in the stables – and Sir Thomas wished for Susan to speak with Miss Crawford again.

  ​Susan said she was willing to do so; in fact, after two days of listening to interviews and taking notes in Sir Thomas’s study, she was eager for a reason for a brief respite, even if it only involved calling at the Parsonage.

  ​“Yes, make the call,” encouraged Sir Thomas. “Perhaps you will discover something. Usually such matters, in my experience, are obvious, or at least they become obvious once you put the facts in order. We have heard a few facts, and listened to much speculation, but the criminal is not obvious. All we have so far is the dead son of Lord Dexthorpe, and a horse that was released from the stables, but which was not, as far as I can determine, stolen.”

  ​“And some missing bread,” said Susan, attempting to cheer up her uncle with a little levity.

  ​But Sir Thomas did not smile. “I truly do not believe that we are in danger at the house, but it is my duty to protect you, and I take that duty seriously.”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  The next morning, as soon as the hour was reasonable, Susan called at the Parsonage and was able to have a few minutes alone with Miss Crawford. Miss Crawford reported that she had written to her brother, but that so far she had only received a brief scrawl from him. Nevertheless, it was encouraging, as he promised her a longer letter in the near future.

  ​“It would be easier if we could talk,” said Miss Crawford. “Henry is far better at making speeches than he is at putting things down on paper. But he has promised to make an effort, and I am convinced that he will.”

  ​Susan, from what she knew of Fanny’s opinion of Mr. Crawford’s ability to keep promises, was not particularly sanguine that a letter would arrive from whatever gay place that Mr. Crawford was currently visiting. Susan only said she thought the letter would be most interesting when it arrived. She then asked Miss Crawford if there was anything more she could tell them about the night on which Mr. Yates was murdered, and even asked if Miss Crawford had gone to the stables to meet Mr. Yates.

  ​“I! Trespass at Mansfield Park in order to speak with Mr. Yates! And in the middle of the night! In the stables! I assure you, I have done no such thing.” Miss Crawford spoke with such indignation that Susan wondered if
any further inquiries from Mansfield Park would be repulsed – if Miss Crawford would even share the letter – if it arrived – from her brother. Susan left the Parsonage within minutes, without even bidding adieu to Mrs. Grant. For this Susan was sorry, and wished she had been more tactful, as Miss Crawford, up until this moment, had been pleasant and amusing.

  ​Moreover, when Susan returned to Mansfield Park, and spoke again with her uncle, she learned that the query had been unnecessary. The coachman said he could not identify the young woman from that night, but that he was certain that she had been rather tall and slender: Miss Crawford, whom he remembered from several years ago, was too small. The woman had been more the height of Mrs. Rushworth – a height that was similar to the height of Mrs. Yates, Miss Price, several of the housemaids, and even Lady Bertram and Mrs. Norris – although Wilcox did not think the woman could have been Mrs. Norris, as the widow was stout and the woman he had glimpsed had been slender. The coachman added that the woman seemed to be carrying something – perhaps a bag? – as she left the area of the stables.

  ​“At least Miss Crawford is not guilty,” said Susan, and explained that her questions had given great offense to that lady.

  ​Her uncle advised her not to be too concerned with Miss Crawford’s opinion; he did not think that Miss Crawford’s irritation would last, and besides the Grants – and therefore Miss Crawford – would not remain in the neighborhood long. “Unfortunately, an inquiry into a crime of this nature is bound to unsettle people. One must ask questions one would rather not.”

  ​Susan also reported that Miss Crawford had written to her brother, and that Mr. Crawford had sent a line back promising to write at length on the subject of Mr. George Yates.

  ​Like Susan, Sir Thomas did not put much reliance on Mr. Crawford’s opinion, and also doubted that he would write at all. The baronet then changed the subject, and he and Susan discussed what he had learned from the coachman, but they could find no satisfactory explanation for the possibility that the woman might have been carrying a bag. A bag had not been used to kill Mr. George Yates. Nor had a bag been used to carry stolen goods away from the stables, because the only thing missing from the stables was the horse, and they knew where the animal was.

  ​Sir Thomas continued his queries over the next two days, sometimes working with his steward to interview tenants, at other times asking Susan to take notes, but no one had any information to give. Sir Thomas was frustrated, but he had no more avenues of inquiry to pursue. Julia received a note from her husband that Mr. Yates had been buried, that Lord Dexthorpe was both angry and grieved. Instead of taking comfort from his second son, he was distraught about the loss of his first, and so John and Tom planned to return to Mansfield Park any day.

  ​The neighborhood moved on to other topics: the making of hay, the repair of a bridge, and the engagement of Mr. Charles Maddox to a wealthy, much older widow. Mrs. Grant and Miss Crawford called on Lady Bertram, a visit that was made uncomfortable by the anger of Mrs. Norris and the resentment of Mrs. Rushworth. The well-bred Mrs. Grant made polite conversation with Lady Bertram, asking about acquaintances in the neighborhood, and sometimes answering her questions herself, as Mrs. Grant was already better informed than her ladyship. Miss Crawford confined most of her conversation to Mrs. Yates and Miss Price, asking Mrs. Yates what she thought of Lincolnshire, the county in which C— was located, and where she would presumably live, and informing the latter that the letter from her brother had still not arrived but she was confident that he would write soon.

  ​Susan still doubted that the letter would ever arrive, but she was glad for the restoration of civility, no matter how strained, between her and Miss Crawford. She took a moment to apologize for the question she had placed, using her uncle’s argument as her excuse.

  ​Somehow, when the sun was shining, the inmates of Mansfield Park could no longer feel the terror that had gripped them several days before. A letter arrived from Fanny, offering to come if needed, but Lady Bertram’s spirits were restored to their general tranquility, so Susan wrote back, thanking her for the offer but saying her presence was not needed. “Of course, Fanny is not needed!” exclaimed Mrs. Norris, who insisted on being informed of the contents of any correspondence. “I can look after my sister very well.” Chapman, Lady Bertram’s maid, sprained her ankle and Mrs. Norris insisted on applying a poultice made of cabbage leaves, which actually helped, and so Lady Bertram’s elegance suffered no interruption. Ann Jones, although she said she could never reconcile with Stephen Jackson, and although still pale and unhappy, had at least ceased her copious weeping. Maria, with some assistance from Julia, read Shakespeare’s Antony and Cleopatra to Lady Bertram, entertaining all in the drawing-room, and Susan, listening, finally finished several pieces in the poor basket.

  ​A week after the death of Mr. Yates, in the late afternoon, a carriage arrived. Julia glanced out the window and announced that it was not her husband.

  ​Susan’s heart fell a little, for if Mr. John Yates was not arriving, nor was her cousin Tom.

  ​“It must be someone else,” said Lady Bertram, stating the obvious. “Susan, can you tell us who it is?”

  ​Susan obligingly went to the window to get a better view. “Oh!” she exclaimed, in a tone with sufficient surprise in it to attract the attention of all the ladies. “My brother, William, is descending from the carriage.”

  ​“Lieutenant Price? Why would he come here?” asked Mrs. Norris, as if she could not bear to be invaded by yet another Price nephew or niece.

  ​“If he wished to attend Fanny’s wedding, he is too late,” observed Lady Bertram. “What a pity that Fanny is not here.”

  ​Julia reminded her mother that a letter from William Price had arrived on the day of the wedding itself, in which William had congratulated Edmund and Fanny, so William must be aware that he had missed the ceremony.

  ​Maria observed that that was correct, that William had written from Antigua. “How long does it take to sail from Antigua? He must have made very good time.”

  ​The ladies all naturally expected their curiosity to be satisfied soon, but there was a delay, as William first went to speak with his uncle in his study. Susan, deciding that it was too late for William to continue to Thornton Lacey that evening, told the housekeeper to prepare a room for her brother. She also ordered tea and then returned to the drawing-room.

  ​“I do hope he will be able to see Fanny,” said Lady Bertram. “She made such a pretty bride.”

  ​“Well, I think it was rude of him to come unannounced,” said Mrs. Norris. “What if Mansfield Park were hosting a large party?”

  ​“I expect he is coming on some business for my uncle,” said Susan, but she, too, wondered why William had made the journey. Her curiosity was not required to suffer long. Sir Thomas entered, his expression unreadable, followed by Lieutenant Price, who carried a bundle in his arms.

  ​“Lady Bertram, I have an important introduction to make to you,” said Sir Thomas.

  ​“An introduction? To whom? I know my nephew, of course,” said Lady Bertram.

  ​“Not to your nephew. No, he has brought someone important to us – our granddaughter.”

  ​Everyone exclaimed. Granddaughter! How could the Bertrams possibly have a granddaughter? Mrs. Norris was especially loud in her astonishment.

  ​“Hush, you will wake her,” said Sir Thomas.

  ​The ladies fell silent.

  ​On Sir Thomas’s urging, Lieutenant Price approached Lady Bertram, and Sir Thomas gently removed a blanket from the bundle in William’s arms.

  ​Lady Bertram, who had the first chance to see the child in her nephew’s arms, appeared bewildered. “I do not understand.”

  ​Mrs. Norris, crowding in, had the second good view, and she responded in horror. “Get that thing out of here!”

  ​Lieutenant Price stepped backwards, protecting the young child.

  ​“Why? What is the matter?” Maria demanded.


  ​“That – that is a slave!” exclaimed Mrs. Norris.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Mrs. Norris’s angry tones roused the little girl, who began to cry. Sir Thomas took the child in his arms, but that made matters worse, so he returned her to William, who was the only person in the drawing-room that the little girl had seen before. Susan, grasping at least some of what must have happened, went to assist her brother, guiding him and the little girl to a sofa.

  ​Mrs. Norris was told by Sir Thomas to be quiet, and then Sir Thomas gave his family the necessary explanations.

  ​Elissa, the name of the little girl, was Tom’s natural daughter by a woman who had been a slave in Antigua. Tom had at first trifled with, then to his surprise had fallen in love with, the mother, but circumstances did not permit an alliance between the two. In fact, in order to put an end to the relationship, Sir Thomas had sent his elder son home from Antigua earlier than originally planned. But although Tom departed, Hetty was already with child, and this girl was that child.

  ​“Although I was certainly not pleased by this – this liaison, my opinion of the mother improved after Tom’s departure. I freed her so that her child would be born free, and arranged for her to be in a position where she could support herself and the child. And I promised her that if anything happened to her, that I would look after her child.”

  ​William reported that he had been instructed to visit Hetty and her daughter, and had discovered that the mother, unfortunately, had died.

  ​Sir Thomas added: “If that were so – and if Elissa’s living conditions were untenable – I authorized William to bring her here. I will not permit any grandchild of mine to be unprotected.”

  ​“My, my,” said Lady Bertram, to whom this information was chiefly related and who actually sat up straighter in order to have a better look at her granddaughter. Elissa had calmed down and was staring at the room full of relations with bewilderment.