The Mansfield Park Murders

by Victoria Grossack

  Lady Bertram nodded. “That is a good point, Julia. Cook would be unhappy to learn that I was not content with my meals, and I did not wish to distress her. Now, I think it is time to go inside and have some tea. It is lovely to be outside, of course, but inside is lovely as well. Elissa, do you wish for some tea?”

  Susan agreed that it was time to go inside, but as she turned, she saw a figure down at the Parsonage. She recognized Miss Crawford, who was looking in their direction, and who appeared to wave at her. Susan asked to be excused. “I see Miss Crawford in the distance and I believe she wishes to speak to me.”

  Maria reddened at the mention of Miss Crawford, a woman Maria had hoped that would one day be her sister-in-law. Susan heard her whisper to Mrs. Norris that it was most unfair: Susan had usurped her place, her parents and even her friends. “True, true,” said Mrs. Norris and Susan felt her aunt’s angry stare. Susan thought Maria was being unjust; she and Miss Crawford were not friends; in fact, she had offended Miss Crawford during their last tête-à-tête. That was one reason that Susan felt it urgent to make a conciliatory gesture if she could.

  Lady Bertram was oblivious to all this, but said that Susan could go to the Parsonage as long as she hurried back. Elissa was reluctant to let her go – the little girl had lost so many over the past few months – but Susan promised to return in an hour or two. Lady Bertram then told her granddaughter that she could play with her little dog and Julia said they could make flowers out of paper.

  Leaving Elissa in the care of her grandmother and her aunt Julia, Susan took the path to the Parsonage.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Susan was correct; Miss Crawford did desire a conversation. After the usual greetings, Miss Crawford spoke briskly.

  ​“Everything is so very awkward. I would not have ventured to this part of the country, except that I wished to support my sister during this visit. Dr. Grant has made progress with his affairs, but Mr. Hawk’s dying parent still lingers among the living, so I cannot tell you how long we will inflict ourselves on the Bertrams and Mansfield. I suggested to Dr. Grant that he leave my sister in London, but he refused; he is completely dependent on her.”

  ​Susan assured her that it was no infliction, at least not for her, and as for the other residents of Mansfield Park, they would manage.

  ​“You are too kind. I am aware how difficult it must be when you do not feel as if you can walk out of your own front door without being confronted with uncomfortable recollections. Sir Thomas was such an attentive neighbor! And now we are strangers, nay, worse than strangers, for we can never become anything better.”

  ​Miss Crawford seemed to have forgotten that she and Mrs. Grant had called on Lady Bertram only a few days ago, but Susan supposed that an awkward half hour of conversation was nothing compared to the many evenings of laughter and games they had shared before. Miss Crawford then asked if she might inquire about her former friends; Susan gave brief answers about them all.

  ​Miss Crawford said, “I understand there is an addition at Mansfield Park.”

  ​Susan colored a little at this – and she did not know why she should, because she had done nothing wrong to create Elissa – nevertheless she kept her voice steady. “Yes, I am certain that she is a topic of much conversation.”

  ​“I did not think Sir Thomas would permit such a person at Mansfield Park.”

  ​“Elissa is his granddaughter.”

  ​“True, she is, but Sir Thomas has always been so upright and strict! And the rest of the family – how are they treating the mulatta?”

  ​“They only met her yesterday.”

  ​“You are very discreet, Miss Price. I understand, their emotions must be mixed, and anyway I know most of the household well enough to imagine how all of them would respond. Sir Thomas means to be kind, but is so imposing that the little girl is terrified of him. Lady Bertram is kind when she thinks about it, but she bestows more attention on her dog. Mrs. Yates and Mrs. Rushworth do not know how to behave, and Mrs. Norris is as disagreeable as she was to your own sister. There, have I not done well? There is no need for me to call at Mansfield Park, when my former friends live so perfectly in my imagination. I am curious, however, about those we have not yet mentioned. Mr. Bertram – how does he behave with his daughter? And Mr. Edmund Bertram? He has to consider his position as a clergyman. How will he reconcile Christian charity with severe morality? And what about your tender-hearted sister, Miss Fanny Price – I mean Mrs. Bertram?”

  ​Susan, although she thought Miss Crawford’s descriptions rather apt, would not gossip about her relations. “I thought you wished to speak to me about something else, Miss Crawford. I have not much time, and so if this is everything, you must excuse me.”

  ​“I am sorry, Miss Price. Stay, Miss Price, please stay; I apologize for my words; I understand they may make you uncomfortable. I do have something for you; I have finally received a letter from my brother about the recently deceased Mr. Yates. Before I show it to you, I must excuse Henry’s language – I can see that his language may be inappropriate for a young lady – but I feel compelled to show it to you. And if you judge it relevant, I beg you to carry it to Sir Thomas.”

  ​Miss Crawford took a letter out of her reticule and read aloud.

  Dear Mary,

  As you are well aware, I hate writing letters and avoid the practice whenever I can. But for you, my dear sister, I will make an exception.

  ​So, George Yates is dead! An amusing fellow, if he respected you, but he did not respect many. You ask if anyone wished to kill him? I can think of several who might smile at learning of his end. Of course, John Yates benefits most from being the elder son, but George Yates made plenty of other enemies throughout the kingdoms. He was a gamester who won, which creates far more hatred than a fellow who obligingly loses, and a seducer as well.

  A seducer, thought Susan. She was most relieved that Yates had not managed to enter her room that night. Oh, how fortunate she had been, that Mrs. Norris had appeared when she had!

  So, both gentlemen and ladies could want him dead. The most recent dupe, from my understanding, was Rushworth, as Yates managed to get a valuable horse away from the master of Sotherton. This, however, you already know. Also, I saw George Yates with Tom Bertram at the theatre in London last year, and I believe that Yates pressed Bertram into a game. I expect George Yates went to Mansfield Park in order to collect from Bertram.

  Susan felt ill at the idea that Tom could have been so weak as to have yielded to Mr. Yates’s pressure, thus breaking his solemn word to his father not to wager. “Is your brother certain? Absolutely certain, that Mr. Bertram was in debt to Mr. Yates?”

  “In my experience, Henry’s observations are usually accurate,” remarked Miss Crawford. She continued:

  As for other details relating to our former friends at Mansfield Park, I am at a loss what more to say. I could write many pages about the sordid affairs of George Yates, but that would take hours, even days, would be mostly irrelevant, and require my writing down the names of people who would rather not be mentioned. If I were at the Parsonage, I am certain that I could be of assistance in resolving this puzzle, but I know that I am generally unwelcome. I hope, Mary, that you are enjoying your time in the country. At least it does not sound dull! Give my love to our sister, and my regards to Dr. Grant.

  “That is all,” said Miss Crawford. “It may not seem like much, but my brother does not care to write letters, and he has a point about not involving those who have nothing to do with the matter.”

  ​Susan, still reflecting on her cousin Tom’s possible guilt – only with respect to wagering; she could not imagine that Tom had killed Mr. Yates! – said nothing.

  ​Miss Crawford folded the letter. “Miss Price, will you be so good as to carry this to Sir Thomas? I have ventured once to Mansfield Park; the formal call was a necessity and my sister did not wish to go without me. I will not trespass again without a particular invitation.”

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p; ​Susan suspected that Miss Crawford would rather like a particular invitation to Mansfield Park, but she did not offer one. She agreed, however, to take the letter to her uncle, although she disliked its words about Tom. “If that is all for now, you must excuse me. I know I am needed back home.”

  ​“Ah, yes, the little girl! Mr. Bertram, when he returns, will find much requiring his attention.”

  ​Susan excused herself again, and departed hastily. She knew that Fanny had never liked Miss Crawford but had always believed her dislike had been due to jealousy. But now she was irritated by Miss Crawford, and she struggled to comprehend why. She did not envy Miss Crawford – well, Miss Crawford had 20,000£, so perhaps she envied her fortune – but Susan did not believe that she and Miss Crawford were both interested in the same gentleman.

  ​No, her disquiet was due to her disappointment in her cousin and her distress about him. Tom had warned her that he was unworthy; probably because he knew he had fathered a child, and possibly because he knew, too, that he had a weakness for wagers. Could he also be a murderer? No, at that point, he could not have been a murderer; Mr. Yates was not yet dead.

  ​Her thoughts and mind were so full that Susan found herself entering the house without realizing how quickly she had walked. She went straight to her uncle’s rooms and handed him Mr. Crawford’s letter.

  ​Sir Thomas asked her to wait while he perused the dark handwriting. Afterwards, he inquired if she were aware of its contents. Susan explained that Miss Crawford had read the letter to her.

  ​“Then you know what it says. Little that I did not know or fear – although this George Yates seems an even worse character than I imagined.” He sighed, surely wondering about his eldest son, but did not mention Tom, and thanked her for bringing the letter from the Parsonage.

  ​Susan went to the drawing-room, where she discovered that the ladies had exhausted their resources in entertaining little Elissa. Lady Bertram had let her pet her pug; Julia had told her a story; Maria had played the pianoforte; and Mrs. Norris had lectured her on how she should sit up straight and still and not talk. But each of these diversions, though they took active imagination on the part of the ladies, only amused the little girl for a short while. Hence, all of the ladies – as well as little Elissa – were relieved when Susan entered the room. They were especially happy when Susan offered to take Elissa upstairs, where she and the little girl would play with some of Maria’s and Julia’s old toys.

  ​“Make sure she does not break anything valuable,” said Mrs. Norris with a sniff, as Susan took her young cousin’s hand and led her away. “Make sure she does not even touch anything valuable – she could soil whatever she touches.”

  ​Susan quickly removed Elissa from the contemptuous remarks of Mrs. Norris. Her aunt’s last communication could be interpreted charitably as the strong probability that a three-year-old’s hands might not be especially clean, but Susan believed Mrs. Norris implied something far worse.

  ​Poor little girl, thought Susan, as they made their way through the house to the nursery. Given her circumstances, Elissa’s future would be difficult, although remembering what William had told her about the conditions in Antigua, Elissa was probably safer here than there. Susan did not know what could be done to improve her young cousin’s situation, but it was in her power to give the girl a pleasant hour, and so they sang, Elissa explored the toys, and they ate rice pudding from a tray brought to them by Ann Jones. Afterwards, Susan read to the girl from a book. Elissa wanted to know how Susan could tell what to say by looking at the pages and Susan found herself explaining the alphabet to her young cousin.

  ​The activities were welcome, for Susan did not wish to dwell on what she had heard at the Parsonage. That letter from Mr. Crawford! Her cousin Tom was implicated in so much! What if it were all true? It could not be true, she thought, and yet she had to admit that it was not impossible. Tom could have been tempted to cards the last time he was in London. Gambling, as Susan had observed in Portsmouth, was very difficult for young men to refuse, and Susan did not think that the upper classes were any better at resisting temptation than the lower. If Tom had broken his word to his father, and had lost, then he could have owed Mr. George Yates a great deal of money. Mr. Yates could have come to Mansfield Park in order to collect. Then Tom, to avoid having to confess to his father, could have killed Mr. Yates.

  ​The thoughts made her wretched, but the more Susan attempted to push them away from her, the more she tried not to think on the subject, the more her mind dwelt there. Her thoughts were only diverted by the unexpected arrival of Maria, who observed Susan’s activities with Elissa, and then rummaged in the nursery until she found a box of letters – each letter was on a card, a little smaller than a playing card, and they could be arranged to spell different words. Soon the little girl was busy discovering the members of the alphabet, especially the E, the first letter of her name.

  ​Susan thanked Mrs. Rushworth for the attention.

  ​Maria said she had another motive for coming to the nursery. “I wanted to satisfy my curiosity. You went down to the Parsonage, did you not? And brought back a letter that Mr. Crawford wrote to his sister?” Maria then quizzed her at length about what the letter did and did not contain.

  ​“The letter implicates my brother? Implies that Tom may have had a reason to harm Mr. Yates?” Maria looked troubled at the notion.

  ​“Yes. If you wish to know exactly what it says, why not ask my uncle to show it to you? But it is not very long. Mr. Crawford wrote that he could say much more in person.”

  ​“I hope Mr. Crawford will not come here,” said Maria. “It would be too much, too bold. He would not dare. But he was always very bold.”

  ​Susan said she had no opinion on the matter.

  ​“I am aware of how much you are doing for this family,” said Maria. “My aunt may have trouble perceiving it, but I do. I wish to assure you that she is very loyal to my family as well.”

  ​To some parts of it, thought Susan, but a noise spared her having to utter unkind truths or generous falsehoods about Mrs. Norris. “I hear a carriage,” she said.

  ​“It is too late for a caller,” remarked Maria, for it was nearly time for dinner.

  ​“Cousin William?” asked Elissa, remembering the carriage ride she had taken.

  ​“I do not think so,” said Susan, as her heart beat more quickly. In a few minutes they all heard the male voices echoing in the vestibule: Mr. Tom Bertram and Mr. John Yates were returned!

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Susan felt for her eldest cousin, with all the difficult news that he was most certainly hearing at this very moment, from suddenly acquiring the responsibilities of fatherhood to being suspected of murder, and even Maria appeared concerned. “What should we do? Should we take Elissa downstairs to meet her father?”

  ​The little girl’s dark eyes opened wide with anxiety, and Susan replied that she thought that would involve too many people. She suggested that Maria go down and ask Sir Thomas and Tom how they wished to proceed.

  ​The introduction was a matter of great anticipation, and several messages went up and down the stairs before it was decided that the awful meeting should take place in the privacy of the nursery rather than in the public of the drawing-room. But all was settled quickly, and in a few minutes Tom Bertram tapped at the door and entered. The little girl stared apprehensively at the tall, fair man who announced he was her father; Tom looked down with wonder at the child whom he knew to be his daughter. Sir Thomas lingered for a few minutes in the doorway, to make sure that his son was doing his duty, and then, satisfied on that point, said he would leave Tom alone with Elissa for now.

  ​Susan made a movement to depart as well, but both father and child appealed to her. “Stay,” pleaded Tom, “just while we get acquainted.”

  ​So, Susan remained and helped these two converse, haltingly at first, for Elissa had both an accent and the elocution of a very young child, and Tom
was at a loss what to say. She prompted them to talk about carriages and traveling, as that was something they both had experienced recently. Tom then asked about the sea journey that Elissa had taken from Antigua, and explained that he had made that journey himself.

  ​Susan found a copy of Tommy Thumb’s Pretty Song Book on a shelf, and suggested that Tom read aloud to his daughter. This occupation proved excellent, for his reading was amusing, and they were all laughing at his rendition of “Hickory, Dickory, Dock.” They spent a pleasant half-hour, and finally Elissa fell asleep, her small fingers clasping one of her father’s fingers.

  ​“My daughter,” Tom whispered, and his voice was hoarse, as he permitted himself to have the emotions that he had suppressed while the little girl was awake. “How could I have left her alone?”

  ​Susan reminded him that Elissa had not been alone; she had been with her mother, but that Mr. Bertram was all she had now. She asked if he had partaken of any refreshment since his arrival; he said he had not but that he did not want to leave his daughter. Susan arranged for another tray to be brought up; while the child slept, they spoke in low voices. She asked about the journey, the funeral, and the reaction of Lord Dexthorpe to the death of his eldest son. The bereaved father had been angry, distressed and downright disagreeable, but Tom, experiencing paternal love for the first time, was charitable in his description. Tom then sent Susan away, saying that he was certain that most of the responsibility for his daughter had fallen on her shoulders during the last two days. Susan confessed that it had been so, and she went downstairs and joined the other ladies in the drawing-room; Sir Thomas and Mr. John Yates were in conference in Sir Thomas’s study.

  ​Everyone was curious about the meeting between Tom and his daughter; Susan spoke only briefly, saying she thought Tom should describe it himself.

  ​“Does he know what he plans to do with her?” asked Mrs. Norris. And before anyone could answer, Mrs. Norris held forth, not understanding how even if Tom wished it, Sir Thomas could consider keeping the little girl on the estate. Elissa, with her dark skin, was evidence of wickedness, and would diminish Mansfield Park’s standing in the neighborhood. Given how Sir Thomas had banished his dear daughter in similar circumstances, how could he permit the presence of an illegitimate granddaughter?