“Then, Henry, I advise you not to touch anything,” said his sister, and Mr. Crawford set his plate and cup down on a table, and wiped his hands on a napkin.
Everyone else in the room put aside their cups and plates. “Mansfield Park is dangerous – cursed,” said Lord Dexthorpe; his son Mr. John Yates agreed with him.
Tom, however, was dubious. “It is impossible that Cook would send up poisoned cake. Besides, many of us have eaten and are not suffering.”
“Then it was only my slice of cake,” said Mr. Crawford. “Mary, let us quit this place. I am even less welcome at Mansfield Park than I had thought.” The Crawfords hastily departed, with Miss Crawford pausing to give Susan a message for Lady Bertram, expressing how very sorry she was about the loss of her dear pug.
Mrs. Norris rose as well, saying she wished to comfort her sister, and Julia turned to her husband and said she was fatigued and wished to take a nap.
The drawing-room, that had been so crowded only a short while ago, was now almost empty: only Lord Dexthorpe, Tom and Susan remained. For a minute, they were quiet, all considering the recent events, then the baron said: “What if the cake is poisoned?”
Both Tom and Susan objected. The dog had been old; no one else had fallen sick; no one would want to harm Lady Bertram’s dog.
“Not Lady Bertram’s dog – Mr. Crawford. Young men of means have been dying in the area. What if the target was Mr. Crawford? He has a good income, has he not?”
Tom answered that Crawford had an income of about 4,000£ per annum.
“You are another young man with expectations,” remarked Lord Dexthorpe. “You should be careful.”
The baron’s observation was sufficient to make Tom glance at the crumbs on his own plate with trepidation, and to make Susan study her cousin with concern. “I feel fine,” Tom said, partly in order to convince himself, and Susan assured him he showed no symptoms.
Lord Dexthorpe was insistent. “Nevertheless, we should examine the cake – the slice that belonged to Mr. Crawford. We should feed it to some other animal. If the animal dies, the cake was poisoned.”
Tom considered. He averred that it was most probable that his mother’s dog had simply died, but he was willing to test Lord Dexthorpe’s conjecture. If, in the unlikely situation that Mr. Crawford’s slice of cake contained poison, he would only risk giving it to an animal that he did not wish to live. “I have an idea,” he said, and carefully picked up Mr. Crawford’s plate that contained the rest of the slice of cake. Lord Dexthorpe insisted on accompanying him. Susan watched them depart, hoping that even if the baron’s speculation proved untrue, that the cooperation between the baron and her cousin would at least improve Lord Dexthorpe’s attitude towards Tom and would dissuade him from implementing the threats he had made to ruin all of Mansfield Park. Then Susan quitted the empty drawing-room herself. She contacted the servants, told them to be careful – that Lady Bertram’s dog had died after eating a piece of cake – and went upstairs to play with Elissa.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
As details of the event spread through the estate, Mansfield Park was in confusion. Lady Bertram was in tears about the death of her dog, while everyone else was perturbed about the possibility of poison.
“I never poisoned anyone,” declared Cook, terribly distressed, and all work in the kitchens ceased.
Sir Thomas attempted to console his wife, and when she was a little calmer, turned her over to the ministrations of Chapman. He then questioned the servants, first speaking with Cook, and assuring her that even if the cake had been poisoned, which was not a certainty, it could not have been her doing, as no one else in the drawing-room had suffered any ill effects. Nevertheless, Cook was unable to resume her duties, and her assistants could only promise a simple supper. Sir Thomas questioned Baddeley, who had supervised the tea service. Baddeley had served at Mansfield Park for many years; the notion of him poisoning part of the cake strained credulity. Perhaps he had resented Mr. Crawford on Maria’s behalf – that was possible – but how could he have known which slice of cake would reach Mr. Crawford? Baddeley, although he had brought in the cake and the tea, had not handed the plates and cups around, but had left it for the gentlemen and ladies to serve themselves.
As Sir Thomas had been in the room himself, he had confidence in the veracity of the butler’s words and assured him that he, too, was not under any suspicion. Sir Thomas interviewed everyone who had been present, with the exception of the Crawfords who had already left for the Parsonage. No one had seen anyone adding anything to Mr. Crawford’s cake, so it was not possible to determine the guilty party – if there were a guilty party – with certainty. However, it was possible, given the recollections of everyone, including Sir Thomas’s own, to reduce the number of possible suspects. Lady Bertram had been at one end of the sofa, Mr. Crawford in the middle, and Mrs. Norris at the end. Susan was the only other person who had even approached that part of the room.
Lady Bertram could have poisoned her dog herself, but Sir Thomas dismissed this as impossible. Lady Bertram had loved her little dog and would never have harmed it deliberately. Besides, Sir Thomas did not believe that his wife had any toxic substances in her possession. He conveyed this opinion to Susan and Mrs. Norris, after inviting them to join him in his study.
“I agree, Sir Thomas,” said Mrs. Norris. “Lady Bertram would never have hurt her dear pet.”
“I also agree, Uncle,” said Susan. “First, if someone wished to kill Pug, doing it in a drawing-room full of people seems a very odd time and place. Besides, who would want to kill a dog?”
The only person, Susan reflected, with any motive to murder Pug had been Sir Thomas, as Lady Bertram often bestowed more attention on her pet than on her husband. But Susan suspected that her uncle, who was so busy, did not object to sharing his lady’s affections.
“Perhaps Mr. Crawford?” suggested Mrs. Norris. “He may have a desire to do harm to this family.”
Sir Thomas said that it seemed unlikely, although he could not completely dismiss him as the culprit. Mr. Crawford may have had no particular love for those residing at Mansfield Park, but murdering the dog would be not just cruel but peculiar, and Sir Thomas could not understand how it could possibly benefit Mr. Crawford.
“Mr. Crawford was the center of attention,” Susan objected. “Everyone was observing him and listening to what he had to say. I do not see how he could have poisoned even his own cake without being noticed.”
Sir Thomas said Susan had made an excellent point, praise that caused Mrs. Norris to bristle, but before she could oppose the compliment, Sir Thomas continued. “That leaves the two of you,” said Sir Thomas. Mrs. Norris had sat on the other side of Mr. Crawford and had sliced and served the pieces of cake, while Susan had carried the small plates around the room.
Then, who had touched Mr. Crawford’s plate of cake? Susan said she had not; she had carried plates to those not sitting on the sofa, but that Mr. Crawford, sitting by Mrs. Norris, had been handed his plate by Mrs. Norris herself. Mrs. Norris denied this, maintaining that Susan was lying.
Susan defended herself. She had not handed Mr. Crawford anything. And even if she had, why should she wish to harm Mr. Crawford? He might have done injury to the family at Mansfield Park, but never to her personally; in fact, Mr. Crawford had been of great assistance in getting a promotion for her dear brother William. Besides, she had no poisons, no harmful substances.
Mrs. Norris maintained that Susan was clever and could manage to procure poison if she so wished. Besides, this was all speculation and they did not know if Pug had died from eating the cake. Lady Bertram’s dog might have had a sudden seizure from some natural cause, poor thing. It was distressing, especially to her dear sister, but not proof of any malevolence.
“We are attempting to discover that,” said Sir Thomas. Both Mrs. Norris and Susan wished to know how, so the baronet explained tha
t Tom, accompanied by Lord Dexthorpe, had gone to an area in the stables which was plagued by rats and had placed the questionable remaining piece of cake in a trap. The rats were usually only active at night, so the experiment might not be concluded before the following morning. However, if a rat consumed some of the cake and then died, they would have evidence that the cake contained some harmful substance.
“By morning we should know,” repeated Sir Thomas.
“I see,” said Mrs. Norris. She asked the baronet if he had any additional questions; he said he did not, and Mrs. Norris excused herself so that she could comfort her sister.
Susan remained with her uncle and asked what he thought had happened.
Sir Thomas shook his head. “I cannot imagine that anyone would wish to kill Lady Bertram’s dog. I could understand that several members of my family may resent Mr. Crawford, but I cannot believe that anyone would actually attempt to murder him! Except for Mrs. Rushworth, perhaps, but she was not in the room. Mrs. Norris is the widow of a vicar, and my own sister-in-law – I cannot comprehend it! So, what I expect is that poor Pug died of natural causes, for the dog was not young, and we simply had the bad luck to witness it. As long as Lord Dexthorpe is here I must at least attempt to investigate, but I expect that tomorrow we will discover that the stables still have as many rats as they do today.”
Susan was about to remark on that likelihood – that Mr. Crawford’s cake had not been poisoned at all – when a maid entered and said that Elissa needed either Mr. Bertram or Miss Price, for the little girl had just learned that Pug was dead and was in tears. As Mr. Bertram was in the stables with Lord Dexthorpe, Miss Price was required. Sir Thomas told Susan to go console his granddaughter.
Elissa, although young, remembered the death of her mother and so was perturbed by the death of her grandmother’s dog. Susan sat with her little cousin and did her best to comfort and amuse her. They sang, Susan read to her, and then they took turns hiding, and then finding, a doll in various corners of the nursery.
Ann Jones brought up a tray with bread, cheese, cold meat, pickles and celery. “Cook is too vexed to make a proper dinner.”
“Is there news from the stables?” Susan inquired, and then, as she saw the young housemaid appear alarmed, for Stephen Jackson worked in the stables, she added: “I mean, with respect to the rats.”
Ann Jones understood that Mr. Bertram and his lordship were still waiting for a rat to take the cake. Susan thanked her, and the housemaid departed. After the meal, Elissa grew drowsy. The day was long, so the sun was still up when Elissa went to sleep. But as the girl was still distressed by the death of the dog, Susan remained long after dark, returning to her own room quite late.
When Susan entered the breakfast parlor the next morning, only Sir Thomas was at the table. He informed her that a rat had died during the night, immediately after consuming part of Mr. Crawford’s cake.
“We have a poisoner,” he said abruptly.
Susan swore that she had had nothing to do with it; her uncle assured her that he did not suspect her. She was hungry, but the news made her reluctant to eat. Her uncle understood her apprehension and recommended the soft-boiled eggs, which could not be tampered with, and the bread, which he had already consumed without ill consequences.
Their tête-à-tête was interrupted by others, as Lord Dexthorpe, Mr. John Yates, Tom, and Maria all appeared. All yawned as if their nights had been short on sleep, but Lord Dexthorpe wore the expression of satisfaction of a man whose judgment has proved correct.
“One less rat in the stables,” said Lord Dexthorpe. “I knew it!”
Tom confirmed Lord Dexthorpe’s account. “As I do not think anyone would want to kill my mother’s dog, or that I had the opportunity to, we must assume that the baron is correct and someone is targeting gentlemen.”
“Young gentlemen of means or with expectations,” continued Lord Dexthorpe. “My son George, Rushworth and now Crawford. John and Bertram should be cautious - or leave Mansfield Park immediately.”
“Are we certain those three cases are linked?” inquired Sir Thomas. “Mr. Rushworth was probably poisoned, and apparently someone attempted to poison Crawford – but your son’s death was different. In my experience as a magistrate, murderers do not usually change their methods.”
“You originally believed my son was killed by a horse thief,” said the baron, his tone making it clear he did not think much of the baronet’s experience.
“Where is Mrs. Norris?” inquired Mr. John Yates, in an attempt to stop his father and father-in-law from arguing. “Has she already breakfasted?”
Sir Thomas had not seen her; nor had anyone else at the breakfast table. Sir Thomas sent a servant up to see if his sister-in-law required anything; the maidservant did not return, but in a few minutes Baddeley entered, his face pale. He leaned over to whisper something to his master, but Sir Thomas’s hearing was not that good while Susan’s was excellent, and as she understood what was said, she gasped.
Everyone at the table demanded to know what was the matter; Susan looked to her uncle.
“What is it, Sir Thomas?” asked Lord Dexthorpe. “Is Mrs. Norris dead too?”
Lord Dexthorpe’s speculation was correct; Mrs. Norris was, indeed, dead.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Sir Thomas excused himself; both his son and daughter asked if he needed any assistance. The baronet said he would let Tom and Maria know if either were required, and Mr. John Yates decided to make sure his wife was safe and left the table as well. Susan expressed concern for Lady Bertram. “She will be terribly distressed.” Those still at the table debated whether to inform her immediately or to let her sleep.
“My father will know what to do,” said Tom, and they decided not to interfere.
“So, I was wrong,” said Lord Dexthorpe. “Not only young men of means and expectation, but small dogs and the widows of vicars are being murdered at Mansfield Park.”
“We do not know that my aunt was murdered,” said Maria.
Lord Dexthorpe glanced at Mrs. Rushworth with scorn and spoke at length about how absurd it was to imagine that anything besides murder had happened. “And although I told Sir Thomas that I would not leave Mansfield Park before I saw justice for my son, this plague of untimely deaths may force me to flee, and to take John and Julia with me.”
No one protested his potential departure.
They were all anxious for details; those details soon arrived. Mrs. Norris had been found dead, wearing her dressing-gown; apparently she had taken some medicine that had ended her own life. On her desk was a note for the general public, as well as several sealed letters: a thick one addressed to Sir Thomas, another to Lady Bertram, and a third to Mrs. Rushworth.
The contents of the note that had been prepared for all were soon discussed by everyone at Mansfield Park. Mrs. Norris said she wished to live, but her heart, which had been weak for some time now, required that she take an extract of foxglove. It was possible that the medicine would either restore her to health or take her to Heaven; she did not know; her future was in God’s hands. Mrs. Rushworth confirmed that Mrs. Norris had been suffering from what she believed was heart trouble and had learned to make the medicine from foxglove flowers while in Ireland.
Lord Dexthorpe opined that Mrs. Norris had clearly taken her own life but did not want her death classed as a suicide, as that would be a scandal for the widow of a vicar, an embarrassment to Sir Thomas, and would require the forfeiture of her estate, not that she had been especially wealthy. “If it can be ruled an accidental death, then none of these penalties will apply. The verdict depends on how friendly the coroner is with Sir Thomas. But I want to know what is contained in the other letters.”
“Father, we may never know,” said Mr. John Yates. “The recipients may choose not to reveal their contents.”
Lord Dexthorpe said that he was certain that the inform
ation of the other letters would be revealed, as the coroner – summoned to Mansfield Park again – would demand it. The baron was correct. The first letter to be shared with those at the estate was addressed to Lady Bertram.
My dearest Sister,
Susan, when she saw these words, considered that they were true, that Lady Bertram had been Mrs. Norris’s dearest sister, as she had not cared sixpence for her other sister.
I must apologize for the great grief that I have caused you in removing one of your dearest companions. The death of your dog was an accident, but I know I am responsible.
Lady Bertram was less affected by the death of her sister than she had been by the death of her dog. She was shocked, certainly, but her grief was less acute. After all, Mrs. Norris had been living apart for the past two years, while Pug had shared her sofa for many hours of every day. “Poor Pug!” she said, brushing away a tear, when Susan read her aunt Norris’s letter aloud to Lady Bertram.
Mrs. Norris did not confess to having attempted to kill Mr. Crawford, but that was implied, as she wrote that the infusion from the cherry laurel leaves had not been intended for her sister’s canine companion. The remainder of Mrs. Norris’s letter to Lady Bertram emphasized her affection for her dearest sister, and her hope that no one would impose on her. Susan believed that Mrs. Norris was attempting to imply that she was the one taking advantage of Lady Bertram, but her ladyship did not look for insinuations, and only said that her sister had always attempted to protect her, but now Mrs. Norris was gone, and Lady Bertram would have to rely on others, such as her nieces.
The letter to Maria declared that Mrs. Norris was deeding all her worldly goods to Mrs. Rushworth, whether or not Mrs. Norris lived or died. She explained that of her nephews and nieces, Tom, Edmund and Julia all had excellent expectations for the future; only Maria’s situation was in doubt (Susan noticed that she and her brothers and sisters were again completely forgotten by their aunt). The rest of the letter was an account of the goods that Mrs. Norris was giving to Maria, from a reticule full of bank notes and coins – a considerable sum, handed to Maria before Mrs. Norris’s death – to her few jewels, her clothes and her favorite shawl. As Mrs. Norris had given the reticule to Maria before her death – a deed witnessed by Chapman and Ellis, which they confirmed when they were asked – the chance of forfeiture due to a judgment of suicide was lessened. Few cared about the older woman’s clothes, although Lady Bertram asked Maria if she might take the shawl, to which Maria agreed. Lady Bertram was fond of shawls, and Mrs. Norris’s had originally been a present from Sir Thomas.
The Mansfield Park Murders Page 19
