The Mansfield Park Murders

by Victoria Grossack

  ​Lord Dexthorpe was not convinced that the deaths were connected. He only cared about who had murdered his son, and wanted to punish someone. He maintained that Tom Bertram was still the most likely perpetrator.

  ​Tom protested. He had not lost a recent wager to Mr. George Yates; Mr. Rushworth was the most recent victim. Tom repeated his idea that Rushworth could have ridden to Mansfield Park that night, could have taken the life of Mr. George Yates, and then have killed himself from remorse. And if James Rushworth had performed the deed, that would explain the riderless horse, as he could not have ridden both horses back from Mansfield Park to Sotherton.

  ​Mr. John Yates objected. “We know that James Rushworth was at Sotherton the night my brother was murdered. I spoke both to the servants and to the coachmen. Although George could have easily saddled a horse for a night ride, none of them had ever seen James Rushworth saddle a horse.”

  ​“Then, perhaps Rushworth hired someone to steal the horse, or at least to let the horse out of the stables, knowing it would return to Sotherton on its own,” argued Tom. “That man then killed Mr. Yates.”

  ​“Is that not enough for reasonable doubt?” asked Sir Thomas. “Both deaths probably had nothing to do with anyone at Mansfield Park.”

  ​“I do not want reasonable doubt,” fired back the baron. “I demand certainty. I demand that someone be punished for the death of my son. And unless you find someone, all of Mansfield Park will suffer.” And the baron rose and left the drawing-room.

  ​Lord Dexthorpe may have departed, but the tension remained; enough tension for even Lady Bertram to remark on it. “My, my,” she murmured.

  ​Mrs. Norris was indignant, and voluble on the baronet’s behalf. “I know he is a baron,” she said, “and your father, Mr. John Yates, but how can Lord Dexthorpe expect hospitality from you, Sir Thomas, when he is planning to injure Mansfield Park?”

  Mr. John Yates apologized and Sir Thomas said he would deal with the matter, somehow. He had taken care of everyone at Mansfield Park for years and promised to continue to do his utmost. It would be easier, of course, if he could discover the murderer of Mr. George Yates, but even if he could not, he would protect them all.

  “I am sure you will, Sir Thomas,” said his lady.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  Eventually everyone retired for the night, with the hope that conditions in the morning would somehow be better, but with no reason to think that they would. As Susan prepared for bed, she looked around her little room, which for Mansfield Park was not at all luxurious, but which, compared to her situation back in Portsmouth, was spacious, comfortable and, most of all, clean. She had been here for more than two years, and had stopped wondering at the coverlet without holes and the water jug without chips a long time ago. She regarded these items with renewed appreciation, as well as the quality of the feather mattress on which she slept. What if Sir Thomas’s income was severely reduced? Her uncle could not be expected to keep her; she would have to return to her father. And what about her aunt and her cousins, who had never known deprivation in their lives? How would they manage?

  ​When Susan rose the next morning, the situation was no better than it had been the night before, and the unity that had prevailed the previous evening seemed to have vanished. Mr. and Mrs. John Yates conversed frequently in low voices, but Susan’s keen ears discerned some of their words. Julia wanted Mr. John Yates to persuade his father to stop threatening her father, while Mr. John Yates said she ought to take action herself. Mrs. Rushworth and Mrs. Norris sat in a corner, quietly discussing some urgent matter; Susan was curious, but she only caught something about Maria’s necklace, and she did not understand what that could mean. Was Mrs. Rushworth considering selling her necklace if they needed funds? Tom, especially anxious, had dark circles under his eyes, evidence that he, too, had slept poorly. The servants, from the highly starched Baddeley down to the red-fingered scullery maids, were likewise glum, because if Mansfield Park failed, how would they live? Sir Thomas and Lord Dexthorpe sat in the baronet’s rooms, reviewing evidence, bringing in one person after another for conversation. The baron went to the stables many times, irritating the men and making even the animals nervous.

  ​Only two people in the household seemed to be at ease: Lady Bertram and her granddaughter, Elissa. Elissa, of course, was too young to understand what was happening, but despite her ladyship’s better comprehension, Lady Bertram continued to smile, doze on her sofa, and speak placidly to anyone near her. “I know it is unpleasant now, but I am certain everything will work out.”

  ​Susan had sometimes wondered why Sir Thomas had married her aunt; had it been for her serenity? Certainly, Susan did not feel serene; nor did she see how their situation could improve. They needed answers to questions, but discovering those answers seemed impossible, and she could not imagine what other approaches they could take. And even though the house was full, Susan felt alone. She usually spent several hours a day with Sir Thomas, but Lord Dexthorpe was with her uncle, and her attendance was not needed. If Susan attempted to amuse her aunt, Mrs. Norris or Mrs. Rushworth soon appeared. Mrs. Yates avoided everyone except for Mr. Yates; Tom stalked around the garden by himself. Elissa clung to Susan, but Elissa was a child, and Susan longed for adult conversation. If only she could go to Thornton Lacey for a visit, but given her responsibility for Elissa, and the general trouble at Mansfield Park, she could not ask her uncle to let her take the carriage for such an excursion. Susan, her heart full but with no confidant, added to the letter that she had still not posted. She had decided that she would never send it, for it was too revealing, and she even considered burning it. But with the warm weather, she had no fire in her room, and she dared not use the fireplace in the drawing-room. With so many people in the house, someone could easily see her and want to know why she was burning a letter. Besides, the words in it reminded her of what she wished to discuss with Fanny, whenever the opportunity arrived.

  ​Susan could not go to Thornton Lacey, but she could walk to the Parsonage. To her surprise, Susan’s best respite was a chat with Miss Crawford in the shrubbery. As the whole neighborhood seemed to be aware of the troubles at Mansfield Park, Susan was not betraying secrets when they spoke, and she could also talk of her feelings. “Only two days have passed since Lord Dexthorpe arrived, but they seem like the longest days I have ever known,” said Susan. “Yesterday was a little better, because the men went to Sotherton to speak with the new proprietor, but they only learned that the new Mr. Rushworth has a deep interest in cattle. Mr. Walter Rushworth, who was away in Switzerland until recently, appears unlikely to have had anything to do with the death of Mr. James Rushworth, and had never met Mr. George Yates at all.”

  ​“Nevertheless, I am in agreement with her ladyship,” said Miss Crawford, who had heard, too, that Lady Bertram was the only calm person on the estate. “So many things may change. For example, Lord Dexthorpe may grow tired of seeking revenge on Mansfield Park. He is grief-stricken now, but eventually he will see that whatever he does will not restore his son to life, and that he would do better to cultivate those who could be friendly to him. Listen to me, Miss Price! I could preach an inspiring sermon, could I not? If only I could attend to my own counsel.”

  ​Susan realized that she had been pouring out her own heart without giving Miss Crawford the same satisfaction. “Is there anything you wish to confide in me?”

  ​“No – no, my regrets are old and not worth revisiting; it is just the return to Mansfield that has brought them to the fore. I could wish that some things had been different. But although my sister does well as the wife of a clergyman, I do not believe that I am suited for that position. How fare the Thornton Lacey Bertrams?”

  ​Susan said they received pleasant reports from Edmund and Fanny, only that Mrs. Bertram was very busy becoming acquainted with everyone in the parish.

  ​“I am happy to hear it. And I am positive, Miss Price, that something will happen to relieve those at
Mansfield Park. I know, for example, that my brother is working on your case. Henry does not like to write letters, but in other ways he is diligent, and I am certain we will hear from him soon.”

  ​Susan was not as sanguine with respect to Mr. Crawford, but this she did not say. Their tête-à-tête was ended by Mrs. Grant, who came out to examine the apricot tree, which was infested with some sort of pest and would have to be cut down. “It is not a great loss; the fruit is not very good,” she said. “Ah, well, not every tree can be the best.” Susan stayed only a few minutes longer, then returned to Mansfield Park.

  ​Although Susan had not placed any reliance on Mr. Crawford’s utility to their situation – perhaps he even hated everything associated with Mansfield Park and wished them ill! – Miss Crawford’s knowledge of her brother proved better than Miss Price’s. Mr. Crawford did not write, but that evening at Mansfield Park they learned that Mr. Crawford had arrived at the Parsonage. A message was brought by a servant of Dr. Grant’s, with the request that Mr. Crawford and his sister be allowed to call at Mansfield Park in the morning.

  ​Normally Sir Thomas would not grant Mr. Crawford’s request, but Lord Dexthorpe, who said that Mr. Crawford had been one of his dead son’s true friends, wanted to see him, and both Tom and Mr. John Yates wished to hear what Mr. Crawford might have to say.

  ​The ladies were also curious about Mr. Crawford, and as he would be accompanied by Miss Crawford when he called – the presence of the feminine intended to encourage civility in the men, who given the situation, could be tempted to anger – they also urged Sir Thomas to permit the visit. Even Lady Bertram said she would not object to their calling.

  ​Sir Thomas finally agreed. “The more witnesses we have, the less likely anything will be distorted.”

  ​The awkward event was planned for mid-morning. The only lady who would not attend was Mrs. Rushworth, whom Mrs. Norris escorted away; Maria placed herself in her room at a window, so she could watch her seducer and his sister walking up the path from the Parsonage to her father’s house.

  ​Even without Mrs. Rushworth, no one was at ease. The Crawfords greeted everyone; Miss Crawford was introduced to Lord Dexthorpe; then Mr. Crawford seated himself on the sofa beside Lady Bertram.

  ​“I know that I am not welcome here,” said Mr. Crawford. “But after I learned of Rushworth’s death, I felt that I had to come and to shed whatever light I can on the situation.”

  ​“I want to know who murdered my son!” said Lord Dexthorpe. “Can you tell me who it was? Was it this Rushworth?”

  ​Mr. Crawford’s answer was delayed by the reappearance of Mrs. Norris, announcing that she had told the servants to bring in tea and cake. Mrs. Norris sat next to Mr. Crawford on the sofa, compelling Lady Bertram to sit up straighter and to move her dog on to her lap. Mr. Crawford stretched out his hand to Pug; the animal sniffed it then licked it.

  ​When they were all resettled, Mr. Crawford spoke. “My lord, I do not know who murdered your son, but I did know George Yates very well and I believe my knowledge may help you determine who killed him. But I must warn you, that you may learn things about your son that will not please you.”

  ​“I have already read your letter about him, and I know your opinion. I have mine. At least George loved life! And if your information helps me discover his killer, I am ready to listen to anything you tell me.”

  ​The only other person who had any reason to object to the blackening of the deceased’s character was Mr. John Yates, and he indicated that Mr. Crawford should continue.

  ​“Very well. I warned you, I cannot do this without speaking ill of the dead. You know that George Yates won most of his wagers. This is because he cheated.”

  ​The bereaved father protested, accusing Mr. Crawford of slander, but Sir Thomas reminded the baron that they had told Mr. Crawford that they would listen to what he had to say. Mr. Crawford had much to tell, and explained that Mr. George Yates had used a well-placed mirror to take advantage of Rushworth at cards.

  ​Tom said that was the solution that he had always favored, that Mr. James Rushworth had murdered Mr. George Yates and then had taken his own life out of remorse. This solution, alas, retained the same objections that it had before. The servants at Sotherton claimed that Rushworth had been at home the night that Mr. Yates had died at Mansfield Park. And none of them had detected any symptoms of remorse on the part of Mr. Rushworth; he had not been upset at all by the death of Mr. George Yates and had been pleased to have the horse back in his stables.

  ​“What more can you tell us, Mr. Crawford?” asked the baronet.

  ​Mr. Crawford kept them interested, as he finished speaking of the cheating that Mr. Yates had done and then moved on to theft. Mr. Yates had visited great houses, and then robbed them of precious items that could be easily carried away and then sold: jewelry, silver, and other articles of value. In fact, Mr. Yates was known to leave great houses late at night, with his pockets full of stolen goods.

  ​“You lie!” protested Lord Dexthorpe. “My son was not a thief.”

  ​But several gathered in the drawing-room offered evidence supporting Mr. Crawford’s assertion. “I discovered my father’s snuffbox in your son’s bag,” said Tom, while Mr. and Mrs. John Yates both said they had heard rumors to this effect, and added that they had always wondered how George had lived the way he had. “I thought you were giving him a larger allowance,” said Mr. John Yates, but Lord Dexthorpe said he had not given his elder son any extra funds.

  “That is not all,” said Mr. Crawford. “Mr. Yates was engaged in blackmail as well, particularly of women of means.” He described how Yates had been a frequent seducer of women, and then, to add insult to injury, would extort them for money or threaten to expose them.

  ​“That cannot be true!” objected the baron, but then Susan, in a halting voice, explained how Mr. Yates had accosted her on the stairs, and how she had been so unsettled by what had happened that she had barricaded her door.

  ​In this case, Mr. Crawford was reluctant to give any names, because he did not want to cause additional pain to those who had been harmed by Mr. Yates, but he knew of more than one case and he had to assume there were others.

  ​“But what if one of them murdered my son?” said Lord Dexthorpe. “A woman was seen that night by the coachman!”

  ​Sir Thomas still said he did not see how a woman could have managed the deed: hitting Mr. Yates on the head, cutting his throat, dragging his heavy body into a corner.

  ​“That is true, Sir Thomas,” said Mrs. Norris. “No woman could have moved Mr. Yates. Ah, tea! Baddeley, bring it here; I will pour.”

  ​Lord Dexthorpe said that he did not know how they were to discoverer his son’s murderer if Mr. Crawford did not reveal which women were being blackmailed, while Mr. Crawford said that Yates had been rather secretive about such information but that he did have some ideas. In the meantime, Mrs. Norris created a bustle of activity, pouring tea and slicing cake and insisting that everyone partake; Susan carried around cups and plates to those not seated by the sofa.

  ​The conversations broke in many directions. Some thought the mysterious woman to be important; others thought those who had been cheated in wagers to be most likely to be angry enough with Mr. Yates to kill him, while a few – Lady Bertram especially – took interest in her tea and cake. Mr. Crawford, seated between Lady Bertram and Mrs. Norris, resumed speaking. “You must understand that many people had reason to kill him.” And he hazarded that one of the women, at least, was in the neighborhood.

  ​“Henry has not told me who the woman might be,” said Miss Crawford, “but from his hints, I believe that the woman planning to marry Mr. Charles Maddox could be a candidate.”

  ​“Oh, no!” cried Lady Bertram. “Oh, dear, no!”

  ​All the attention that had been engrossed by Mr. Crawford was now directed towards her ladyship, who had never, in Susan’s memory, spoken with such alarm.

  ​“Lady Bertr
am, what is the matter?” asked Sir Thomas.

  ​“Pug – something is wrong!” Her dog, Pug, had suddenly become ill. Before anyone could do anything other than comprehend what was happening, the little dog trembled violently, then lay still.

  ​“My dear, I am afraid she is dead,” said Sir Thomas.

  ​“No! Poor Pug. How can that be?”

  ​“A sudden seizure,” said Tom. “She was not a young dog.”

  ​“But she was fine just yesterday, when we strolled in the garden. She seemed quite her normal self.”

  ​Mr. Crawford was distressed. “I fed her some of my cake. Could that have hurt her?”

  ​Tom Bertram said he did not see how; the dog had been eating bits of cake her entire life.

  ​“Poor Pug,” said Lady Bertram, and tears slipped down her face. “Ever my sweet friend.” Sir Thomas gently took Pug from her, then assisted her to her feet. “You must excuse us,” he told those in the drawing-room, and escorted his wife out of the room, supporting her with one arm while he carried the lifeless animal in the other.

  ​Lord Dexthorpe said that cake was not good for dogs, and that he would never allow his animals to consume anything of the sort.

  ​“But Tom is correct, Pug has eaten cake all her life,” said Mrs. Norris. “Unless you poisoned the dog, Mr. Crawford?”

  ​“I beg your pardon?” asked Mr. Crawford, stunned by the accusation. His shock quickly transformed into anger. “Why, in God’s name, would I wish to poison Lady Bertram’s poor dog?”

  ​Everyone in the room looked at Mr. Crawford with suspicion, but most made exclamations of doubt. Then Miss Crawford, in a much sharper voice, asked her brother if he had eaten any of the cake or if he had drunk any of the tea; Mr. Crawford answered that he had been too busy talking to do so.