The Mansfield Park Murders

by Victoria Grossack

  ​Until Lord Dexthorpe’s threats could be checked, and Sir Thomas could be assured that his income would not be attacked, the baronet was reluctant to make several decisions. Maria and Mrs. Norris: should they return to Ireland? And what should be done with little Elissa? Their situations depended on Sir Thomas’s future income.

  ​“I do not wish to disappoint Lady Bertram,” said Sir Thomas, who had been able to provide her ladyship with every luxury during their married life. Susan thought her ladyship and her dog could sit comfortably on a sofa in a much smaller room, if required, but she appreciated her uncle’s fondness for her aunt.

  ​A carriage, pulled by four horses, was coming up the drive. Mr. John Yates looked out the window and told his father-in-law and brother-in-law that they would have the opportunity to make the case very soon, for his father, Lord Dexthorpe, had arrived.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  Lord Dexthorpe was ushered into the drawing-room at once. His elder son, although several inches taller, had been very similar to him in appearance; his younger son, Mr. John Yates, had inherited the baron’s jaw.

  ​Even though Lord Dexthorpe’s estate was in the neighboring county of Lincolnshire, and their children were married to each other, Sir Thomas and Lady Bertram had never met the father of Mr. John Yates. If Julia Bertram and John Yates had married in the traditional manner, there would have been a wedding at which the parties could have effected an introduction – but Julia and John had eloped. Although more than two years had passed since that event – an event that had not pleased any of the parents when it occurred – neither the baron nor the baronet had expressed a desire to meet. Her ladyship, ever indolent, had not even considered issuing an invitation.

  ​Now murder, not marriage, brought them together. As Mr. John Yates made the introductions, Sir Thomas, aware of Lord Dexthorpe’s intentions with respect to the income of Mansfield Park, had to summon all his dignity in order to welcome him with civility, while the words of Lord Dexthorpe, who held the baronet responsible for the death of his eldest son, were full of hostility. Everyone appeared deeply uncomfortable, with the exception of Lady Bertram, who was the only one able to manage a smile. Lord Dexthorpe accepted a cup of tea, and Susan departed briefly to give instructions about the rooms. When she returned to the drawing-room she discovered that Lord Dexthorpe, with the highest rank, was doing most of the talking; and she detected another trait that Mr. John Yates had inherited from his father – his tendency to express his feelings.

  ​“Decided had to come here and determine why you, Sir Thomas, have not yet found the murderer of my son. My son died here, a fortnight ago, and yet nothing has been done about it. Nothing!”

  ​Susan wanted to contradict him, but she was just an indigent niece, so she stayed silent. Others, however, attempted to reason with the baron. Mr. John Yates said he was aware that Sir Thomas had interviewed many people in his attempt to discover the truth. “But Sir Thomas has not discovered it, has he? That is why I am here!” Mrs. Norris, a little subdued in the presence of a lord, ventured her opinion that the murderer was a horse thief, but Lord Dexthorpe dismissed the suggestion. “No other horses in the neighborhood were taken, while the horse that departed from the Mansfield Park stables just made its way back to Sotherton. Someone opened the gate for it, but I see no evidence of a horse thief.” Tom advanced the notion that Rushworth was responsible – and that Rushworth might have taken his life out of remorse.

  ​“James Rushworth! Impossible,” pronounced the baron. He had met that late young man, and could not believe that Rushworth could have come to Mansfield Park in the middle of the night without being detected, especially not in order to murder George. Besides, George had been clever, and Rushworth a fool; it was inconceivable that Rushworth had overpowered George. The baron continued to say that, on the other hand, Sir Thomas was not a fool. “You must know more about the murderer, Sir Thomas, and I suspect you are trying to protect the blackguard.”

  ​Lord Dexthorpe did not name Tom Bertram, but his direct stare made his accusation clear.

  ​Tom flushed with anger, but he spoke clearly. “Lord Dexthorpe, I did not kill your son.”

  ​The baron was not convinced. “You say that, but can you prove it? I know you were in debt to him before, why not last month?”

  ​“My lord, I” – Tom started to defend himself, but his father, wishing to avert a scene, suggested to the baron that they go to his rooms to discuss this in private.

  ​The baron refused; he wanted everyone in the drawing-room. “If you do not find and punish the murderer of my son, Sir Thomas, I will ruin you. I will start by making sure that you cannot sell your sugar through M—.”

  ​Susan, who assisted her uncle with his correspondence, was aware that M— was an important distributor. She did not know what influence the baron had with M—, but she was aware that the income of Mansfield Park relied heavily on a good business relationship with M—.

  ​Sir Thomas repeated that the baron should come with him into his library, so that he could review all that the baronet had done to find the killer of Mr. Yates. Lord Dexthorpe finally consented to be led out of the room, accompanied by Mr. John Yates.

  ​The others remained in the drawing-room; at first silence reigned, then Tom repeated that he had not killed Mr. Yates.

  ​“Of course not,” said Maria quickly.

  ​“No one in his right mind could think such a thing!” agreed Mrs. Norris.

  ​“My uncle will convince him of that soon,” said Susan stoutly, with confidence that she did not feel.

  ​“I am not sure of that,” said Tom.

  ​ Lady Bertram was the least perturbed. “Lord Dexthorpe is simply upset about the loss of his son. His situation is very understandable, and we will have to find some way to restore his spirits.”

  ​Julia reproached her. “Mama! Nothing could compensate for the loss of a son.”

  ​“If you say so, Julia,” said her ladyship, who then stopped speaking. Everyone was silent, as they wondered what the baron and the baronet were discussing in Sir Thomas’s rooms. Tom, especially, was concerned. Then Lady Bertram turned to Susan. “With a baron here, I will want to dress in something nice for dinner.”

  ​Maria wondered if, with most of the men involved in an important discussion, they should postpone the meal. Mrs. Norris said that would inconvenience Cook, and hoped the men would be considerate.

  Fortunately for Cook, dinner was served at its usual hour. Lord Dexthorpe had no interest in showing any consideration to anyone connected with Mansfield Park, but after his journey from Lincolnshire he was hungry. During the meal, the baron held forth, and informed everyone that he had already visited the stables where his son had died, had spoken with the coachman and the grooms, and had also inspected the room in which his son had stayed. He was convinced that his industry would soon lead him to the discovery of the murderer. Although Susan thought privately that the baron was treading the ground her uncle had already covered, no one contradicted the baron. As soon as the gooseberry tart was consumed, the ladies withdrew to the drawing-room; the men remained to discuss everything over Sir Thomas’s best claret.

  ​The servants, like before, were interested in the visit of the baron, although a little less eager than they had been with his eldest son, as Mr. George Yates’s visit had ended so badly. “That is his father?” asked Ann Jones, with whom Susan spoke after she left the table. The housemaid continued: “Think he would want to stay away from the place where his son died. This place is unlucky.”

  ​“Lord Dexthorpe is also the father of our Mr. John Yates,” said Susan.

  ​The housemaid said nothing to this, but changed the subject, reporting that Elissa had eaten her dinner. Susan thanked her for all the care that she had recently shown the little girl; the housemaid said she was happy to do it, especially now. Susan supposed that caring for Elissa gave Ann Jones the excuse to avoid everyone, especially Stephen Jackson, with whom she ha
d not reconciled. Susan went upstairs to the little girl’s room – Elissa had been moved to the nursery – and read her a story and tucked her in bed. She was joined by Tom, and they spoke in whispers as the child closed her eyes. Tom reported that the other men were still speaking over dinner, but that the baron had requested that he depart.

  ​“He still believes you are responsible?”

  ​“Yes, he does.” And Tom detailed Lord Dexthorpe’s threats against the Mansfield Park estate, threats he claimed he would turn into reality if he were not satisfied. The baron would make it difficult for the baronet to sell sugar, compelling Sir Thomas to use inferior distributors. If that did not ruin the Bertrams, Dexthorpe would encourage the military in Antigua to ignore Sir Thomas’s plantation and inspire the slaves to revolt.

  ​“Would the military do that?” asked Susan.

  ​“My father does not think so. Encouraging the slaves to revolt on one plantation could encourage them to revolt on the next, and no one wants that.”

  ​Susan thought that, from William’s description of Antigua, that a revolt would be understandable. But she supposed a less violent solution would be better, if one could be found. She expressed some of this to her cousin.

  ​“You are correct,” said Tom. “The situation is abominable, but what can one do? At the moment, all I can do is to try to help her,” he said, pointing at his daughter. “If Dexthorpe does not hang me for murder, perhaps I can do something more.” He added that he would do much to keep Mansfield Park safe, but he would not go to the executioner for a crime he had not committed.

  ​Elissa slept, so Tom and Susan went downstairs, where they found that the other men had joined the ladies in the drawing-room.

  ​Mrs. Norris sniffed when Tom and Susan entered together, and said she hoped Tom would finally learn to make wiser choices. Tom looked pained and Maria implored Mrs. Norris to leave her brother alone.

  ​As Tom and Susan took seats in the drawing-room, Julia informed them that her husband, Lord Dexthorpe and Sir Thomas planned to visit Sotherton tomorrow.

  ​“Yes,” said Sir Thomas. “We wish to determine if the two deaths are connected.”

  ​“It seems highly unlikely,” said the baron, “but I wish to be fair.”

  ​“If they are, Tom, that would clear you, as it seems impossible for you to have had anything to do with Mr. Rushworth’s decease,” said Maria.

  ​Tom wanted to join them; Lord Dexthorpe refused, saying that would taint the inquiry. Tom protested: “You are considering my guilt or innocence, considering my future, whether I have one or not. I will not remain behind in ignorance.”

  ​Susan wanted to applaud Tom’s eloquence, and even Sir Thomas seemed impressed. The baron’s eyes narrowed, but he acquiesced. Mrs. Norris encouraged Tom to do everything possible to find a horse thief – and also to investigate Rushworth’s pecuniary situation.

  ​The following fine morning, the men, who had to cover ten miles to reach Sotherton, departed early. That day, Susan was busy, attending to her aunt, the household, and her little cousin. When she ran up the stairs to fetch a doll for Elissa, she found Ann Jones putting away things in the nursery, tears sliding down her face.

  ​“Ann, what is wrong?” asked Susan, the doll in her hand.

  “Nothing,” said the housemaid. “You cannot help me.”

  ​“If you like, I could speak to Jackson for you.”

  The housemaid shook her head. “No, just let me do my work. If you like, I can help look after Elissa today. She sings very prettily for one so young.”

  The hours passed slowly, as they all waited for the men to return from their excursion. Mrs. Norris busied herself with wandering the grounds and insisting on the application of a certain type of mud to a bee sting received by a gardener. Mrs. Rushworth attempted to work on items in the poor basket, but could not concentrate, and persuaded Julia to play backgammon with her. Lady Bertram yawned and fretted over dear Pug, who, her ladyship discovered, had several gray hairs on her muzzle. “We’re both growing older,” she said to her dog, “both grandmothers now,” and her ladyship smiled at her daughters. Susan wrote notes for her aunt and applied herself to the poor basket, and tried not to worry about Tom.

  The sun’s rays were slanting deeply by the time the men returned from Sotherton. They refreshed themselves with a late supper and then joined the ladies in the drawing-room to make their report. The men had met Mr. Walter Rushworth, who had just arrived from Switzerland; his wife, a native of that country, would be joining him shortly. He was about forty, fit, and, as a man of strict habits and modest expectations, had never thought much about the property in Sotherton. Despite the fact that he inherited after his cousin, Mr. James Rushworth, Mr. Walter Rushworth’s long absence seemed to clear him from any involvement in the former proprietor’s death. Mr. Walter Rushworth had never met Mr. George Yates, although he had heard of him.

  ​There was always the possibility that Mr. Walter Rushworth was lying, but even the suspicious Lord Dexthorpe and the highly motivated Tom Bertram detected no falsehoods. Instead, Mr. Walter Rushworth spoke at length about the cattle of Switzerland, and asked Sir Thomas if he thought the herds that grazed on the slopes of the Alps would do well in Northamptonshire.

  ​The party from Mansfield Park had spoken with the servants, but found again, no one suspicious. No one else had taken ill. No one knew how Mr. James Rushworth could have consumed anything unusual, except from the empty little vial that had been discovered in Mr. Rushworth’s bedroom. Sir Thomas asked, and Lord Dexthorpe demanded, if they could inspect the vial. The housekeeper showed it to them. None of them recognized it; it was small, white, and plain, with no distinguishing marks.

  ​Tom asked to speak to Mr. James Rushworth’s old valet, who was now in service to Mr. Walter Rushworth. “What was Rushworth wearing the day he died?”

  ​“How could that possibly matter?” objected Lord Dexthorpe, but Sir Thomas insisted that the valet answer the question. Mr. James Rushworth had been wearing some of his finest, his favorite black coat and a green satin vest.

  ​“And before that, when was the last time that Rushworth wore that attire?” Tom inquired.

  ​The valet considered. The wealthy Mr. Rushworth had had many garments, and it was the manservant’s duty to take care of them all. The last time the late master had worn those clothes was the day on which Mr. Rushworth had visited Mansfield Park, to inform Sir Thomas about the horse having reappeared, on its own, at Sotherton.

  ​Lord Dexthorpe wished to go see the horse; as his son’s next of kin, did not the animal now belong to him? But the others insisted on speaking with the valet for a few additional minutes. “I recall the green satin,” said Sir Thomas. “Very interesting, Tom.”

  ​“But why does this matter?” asked Mr. John Yates.

  ​“What if someone at Mansfield Park gave the vial to him?” asked Tom. He then asked the valet if the vial could have been in one of Mr. Rushworth’s pockets ever since his visit to Mansfield Park.

  The manservant hesitated. He had always taken his master’s watch out from one of the pockets. But the vest had several pockets that Mr. Rushworth rarely used, and the valet was not certain he had checked them all. Therefore, it was possible that the vial, so small, could have been in one of the vest’s other pockets for a while. Considering, he thought there had been a small lump in one of Mr. Rushworth’s vest pockets on the day of his death.

  ​“Could it have been the vial?” asked Sir Thomas.

  ​“Possibly. Possibly,” said the old valet.

  ​The men wondered how the vial had come to be in Mr. Rushworth’s pocket. The old valet swore that he had no reason to harm Mr. Rushworth, who had always been a good master.

  ​“No one suspects you,” said Sir Thomas, attempting to reassure the manservant.

  ​Lord Dexthorpe objected. “We have no reason to suspect you more than anyone else,” said the baron. “But you were the last person to see Mr. Rushw
orth alive, were you not? And you were the person who discovered Mr. Rushworth dead in his bed, were you not?”

  ​The old manservant became extremely anxious, and protested his innocence. Sir Thomas suggested that they go see the horse, and en route apologized to Mr. Walter Rushworth for upsetting the old valet. “Please let him know that unusual deaths require difficult questions. I am sure he is innocent.”

  ​“I hope so,” said the new proprietor. “I do not like the idea of a manservant who murders his master.”

  ​The black horse, its shoe repaired, was in fine fettle. Mr. Walter Rushworth said he had no objection to letting Lord Dexthorpe take the animal, as long as he could prove that Mr. George Yates had won the horse in a fair wager. This demand of proof annoyed the baron, but Mr. Walter Rushworth now had an income of £12,000 per annum and was ready to protest the claims of Lord Dexthorpe.

  ​Susan had to hide her smile when she heard this, especially as it inclined the baron to suspect Mr. Walter Rushworth of the murders, as he apparently had motive. Alas for Lord Dexthorpe, additional inquiries at Sotherton made it clear that Mr. Walter Rushworth had been on the continent when both Mr. James Rushworth and Mr. George Yates died.

  ​“Father, it seems impossible that the new Rushworth could be culpable,” said Mr. John Yates. “Of most interest is the vial. When and how did James Rushworth acquire it?”

  Sir Thomas and Tom Bertram had pursued the matter while at Sotherton, but none of the servants admitted to knowing anything about its provenance. They consulted with the coachman, who explained that Mr. James Rushworth had made no detours on the day he had visited Mansfield Park, and that in the week before his death, he had only been out a few days, as he had been suffering from a sore throat.

  ​Sir Thomas wanted to know if Rushworth could have received the vial at Mansfield Park. Mr. James Rushworth had met with Sir Thomas, Mrs. Norris and Susan, and had interacted with several of the servants. All denied giving Mr. Rushworth a vial of poison, and none of them seemed to have any reason to wish for Mr. James Rushworth to die. Maria, the only one with a possible motive, stoutly claimed she had not met with him, but had remained in the drawing-room with the other ladies during the entire time of Mr. Rushworth’s visit.