CHAPTER THIRTY
No one attempted to enter Susan’s room during that night or the next, and she rose early enough to move everything to keep from inconveniencing any of the housemaids.
On both days, a steady rain fell, and tempers were subdued. Susan assisted with much of the necessary correspondence, while Maria, in an effort to prove herself useful and to keep away from everyone else, looked after little Elissa.
On the second morning after her body was discovered, Mrs. Norris was buried beside her husband in the parish cemetery. As women rarely went to funerals, all the ladies declined to attend, but sat with Lady Bertram while the sad event took place. Mr. Edmund Bertram rode over for the occasion, and stood with his male relatives. Afterwards, Dr. and Mrs. Grant and Miss Crawford called at Mansfield Park. Dr. Grant, who had been no friend to Mrs. Norris, composed himself sufficiently to speak with gentleness to Lady Bertram on the loss of her sister. Mrs. Grant and Miss Crawford offered their condolences as well, but Miss Crawford managed a private moment with Miss Price, and uttered what Susan believed was Miss Crawford’s true opinion. Mrs. Norris had been an unpleasant individual, who had murdered Mr. Rushworth and Lady Bertram’s dog, and who had attempted to murder Mr. Yates and Mr. Crawford. “You comprehend why my brother did not come today; he could hardly honor someone who attempted to do him such ill.” Susan replied that she understood. Then Miss Crawford – somehow, the inhabitants of the Parsonage were as familiar with the details of recent events as the inhabitants of the Park – attempted to elicit information from her. What would happen with Mrs. Rushworth? Susan answered that she did not know; that much still needed to be decided. Miss Crawford had to content herself with that, and with a civil exchange with Mr. Edmund Bertram. Susan noticed that Miss Crawford looked at Edmund when he was conversing with others, but other than a blush, Miss Crawford behaved with delicacy. Susan pitied her.
Dr. Grant informed the Bertrams of another death, the long-awaited demise of the mother of Mr. Hawk. At the moment, Mr. Hawk had to remain where he was in order to take care of business, but he expected to return in a fortnight, at which point the Grants would leave the country and go back to London. With the sun coming out, the Grants and Miss Crawford readied themselves for the walk to the Parsonage. “To everything there is a season,” said Miss Crawford, and although she was quoting the Bible, she could be speaking of the change in the weather, describing the mortality of recent weeks, or simply referring to the festivities of the next winter in London.
After the departure of the Grants and Miss Crawford, Sir Thomas met with his sons to discuss the disposition of Maria. Until they were free of Lord Dexthorpe’s threats, no final decision could be taken, but possibilities could be explored, and the baronet wished to hear the opinions of his sons. Tom said that, given Elissa, his guilt was as great as his sister’s and he suggested leniency and forgiveness. Edmund said that Maria’s involvement with Mr. George Yates proved that she had not reformed, and that her character was just as weak as it had been when she had deserted her husband to elope with Mr. Crawford. In addition, Mrs. Norris had attempted to murder three different men in order to improve Mrs. Rushworth’s position. Edmund did not believe that Maria had been involved directly in these crimes – at least he hoped she had not – but the association with guilt and scandal were undeniable.
Sir Thomas listened to both, weighing their arguments against his affection for his daughter. He inclined towards the opinion of Edmund, especially as any leniency towards his daughter might offend the baron who was still threatening his ruin. The baronet comforted himself with the fact that Maria had never been particularly happy at Mansfield Park. But where could he send her?
It might seem strange that these conversations took place without Maria, but the men were accustomed to making decisions for the women, and Sir Thomas intended to consult her eventually. Besides, nothing could be acted upon until he could persuade Lord Dexthorpe not to ruin him.
Lord Dexthorpe was miserable, for not only did he still not know the identity of his son’s murderer, he had learned most terrible things about that son. First, that son had been a thief, a cheat, a blackmailer and even a seducer of women. The baron could have dismissed the complaint of one woman, or the complaints of two or three, but there seemed to be many, confirmed by words from John Yates, Julia Yates, and even Mr. Crawford. Lord Dexthorpe had called upon Mr. Crawford at the Parsonage, and in the privacy of a tête-à-tête, had heard such a myriad of dreadful details that when he returned he would not speak for two full hours. “At least George was alive,” said the baron, when he terminated his self-imposed silence, repeating the only thought that consoled him. “More alive than any of the rest of us.” Mr. John Yates did everyone else a service by taking his father into the billiards room quite often.
“It has been three weeks!” exclaimed the father, with as much drama as could be found in the rants of his second son. “And it feels longer!”
Everyone agreed with his lordship that it felt longer. They all hoped that something, such as the start of the hunting season that was still several weeks distant, would persuade the baron to return to his estate, because the chance of finding the murderer seemed small. Many were suspected, but with so many motives, no one could be deemed guilty beyond a reasonable doubt unless new information was discovered.
“There seems to be no exit from this crisis,” Susan remarked to her uncle.
Sir Thomas was more sanguine. “I do not know that we will ever discover the murderer. Perhaps Mrs. Norris was the guilty party and did not confess.” But he had hopes with respect to Lord Dexthorpe, whose mood was subdued and who had been making fewer threats. “He is grieving for his son, and we should be patient with him.”
The other situation requiring resolution was little Elissa: should she remain at Mansfield Park or not? She was innocent of any wrongdoing, but not only was she illegitimate, the color of her skin reminded everyone of that fact. One solution would be to house her in a cottage full of children. However, Tom did not want her sent away, and even Lady Bertram had grown attached to her. Another solution would be to hire someone to take care of her, but the nursery maids they had interviewed had not been satisfactory. For the time being Elissa was cared for mostly by Susan, Maria and the housemaid Ann Jones, with occasional supervision from Lady Bertram and her maid Chapman.
Then one morning, soon after breakfast, Chapman reported to her mistress that Ann Jones was ill, information that had been relayed to her by the little girl.
Lady Bertram was sitting with her niece and daughters when this information was brought to them. “The housemaid has not been poisoned, has she?” asked Julia.
The possibility struck them all with alarm, including her ladyship. “Dear me,” remarked Lady Bertram. “I hope it is nothing serious. Susan, my dear, please go and see what is the matter.”
Susan hastened to the nursery, hoping that the housemaid was still alive. She was, but as Chapman and Elissa had reported, she was sick as she knelt over a basin.
“What is the matter?” asked Susan. “Have you taken poison?”
The housemaid shook her head.
“Did you drink too much?” asked Elissa, from her corner. “Some men, when they drink too much rum, are sick like that.”
“No,” said Ann Jones, and tears were on her face. “I did not drink any rum.”
Chapman, who had walked up the stairs – unlike Susan, who had run – finally appeared in the threshold. She insisted that Ann Jones tell everything, that Ann Jones was with child.
“Oh!” exclaimed Susan, for many things began to fall into place. “Is Stephen Jackson the father?” That would explain why Ann and Stephen had quarreled.
No, she declared, Stephen Jackson was not the father.
The father was Mr. George Yates.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
The tale of guilt and misery emerged. During his first night at Mansfield Park, Mr
. Yates had forced his attentions on Ann Jones, and now she was with child.
Lord Dexthorpe tried to hold the housemaid responsible for all that had passed, but this proved impossible, even for him. Everyone informed him that Ann Jones had always been scrupulously respectable. Everyone confirmed how agitated and unhappy Ann Jones had been ever since the night of her encounter with Mr. George Yates. Lord Dexthorpe had already heard how Mr. Yates had seduced Mrs. Rushworth, had attempted to force himself on Susan, and had been informed by Mr. Crawford of many reports concerning other women. And when the baron finally interviewed the housemaid, her modesty and her distress prevented him from blaming her for the encounter between herself and his son.
Had she killed him? That was Lord Dexthorpe’s next suspicion. It was difficult to imagine the delicate young woman committing such an act, but as Mr. George Yates had been unconscious, murder would not have been beyond her strength.
This idea swept through Mansfield Park with the rapidity of galloping horses, and Susan, so recently the target of suspicion herself, pitied the young housemaid. However, the notion did not last long. Stephen Jackson, eyes wild from lack of sleep, came forward to confess.
Jackson had learnt of Mr. Yates’s outrage on the young woman he hoped to marry from Jones herself, whom he had discovered in tears. Afterwards Jackson and Jones had argued, because he wanted to tell Sir Thomas what had happened. Ann Jones had been reluctant, because she did not expect to be believed, not when she was a housemaid and Mr. Yates the eldest son of a baron. She was afraid of being sent away from Mansfield Park with a ruined character. They had quarreled, increasing poor Ann Jones’s distress even further.
The next morning, Jackson had been the first in the stables, arriving in the gray light before dawn. He had had his knife out to treat the horse’s hoofs, when to his surprise he had discovered Mr. Yates, lying in the dirt in the stables. No, Mr. Yates had not been dead, but had been barely conscious. Jackson had not known what to do, but had accused the baron’s son of violating his intended. Mr. Yates, despite his aching head, had not denied it, but had laughed. Actually laughed!
Mr. Yates’s scornful mirth infuriated the groom, and Stephen Jackson attacked Yates with the knife in his hand. Afterwards, horrified by what he had done, he dragged the heavy body to the corner of the stable and covered it with hay. He had hoped to move it later, but no opportunity presented itself. He released Mr. Yates’s horse – confirming Maria’s statement that it had already been saddled, presumably by Mr. Yates – to make it look as if Mr. Yates himself were gone.
Sir Thomas, to whom this confession was made, in the company of Tom and Mr. John Yates, sighed. The baron did not see how, despite the extenuating circumstances, Jackson could avoid being hanged. When he informed Jackson of this, Jackson, pale but resolute, said that he understood. He could not risk Ann Jones’s suffering that fate. He just hoped they would treat Ann Jones fairly, would realize the cruelty that had been inflicted on her. She had done nothing wrong.
The men conducted an additional interview with Ann Jones, who confirmed portions of Stephen Jackson’s account. She had guessed what had happened and had begged him to run away. He had refused, out of his concern for her; besides, if he did as she asked, everyone would realize he had killed the baron’s son.
Sir Thomas arranged for Stephen Jackson to be jailed by the local constabulary until a formal sentencing could be accomplished. After these interviews – Susan assisted at those with Ann Jones – the results were communicated to Lord Dexthorpe and the rest of those living at Mansfield Park, who were shocked and saddened and who pitied Stephen Jackson. Sir Thomas was concerned that he had lost his next coachman; Wilcox’s rheumatism was such that he needed to retire, and Cooper, he feared, was not up to the work.
The baron could no longer complain that the murderer of his son had not been apprehended. Some of his anger disappeared, while the grief that he had been suppressing all this time swelled to the surface. But that grief was soured with deep regret, regret that his son’s legacy was so terrible. George had seemed so charming, so capable, and so handsome, that the baron had liked thinking of his title and his lands passing on to that son. Now everything would eventually go to John, who was tolerable but could hardly be expected to bring glory to the barony.
Some of these feelings were conveyed to Sir Thomas as the patriarchs sat. The baronet had never experienced the death of a child, but he was familiar with bitter disappointment in the characters of his offspring. He counseled patience, and suggested that Lord Dexthorpe work at familiarizing Mr. John Yates with the running of the estate in Lincolnshire. Sir Thomas felt some misgivings at this recommendation, for Julia rather disliked her father-in-law, but as Julia’s husband now expected to inherit, living at her father’s estate was a rational solution. It would reduce the living expenses, too, of Mr. and Mrs. John Yates, and ease Sir Thomas’s sense of responsibility with respect to his younger daughter.
The baron said he would consider this, and then the baron, the baronet and Tom met with Ann Jones. The housemaid requested that Miss Price and Mrs. Rushworth also assist at this interview. The baron agreed, and so Susan took notes, while Maria occasionally made suggestions on what could or should be done. Not every woman who was expecting survived her lying-in, but Lord Dexthorpe assured Ann Jones that he would provide for her and the child if it lived, including a small house and a public education if it were a boy.
Lord Dexthorpe made his proposals, but before the housemaid would agree, Jones asked about the fate of Stephen Jackson. Lord Dexthorpe said that he wanted his son’s murderer to hang. Tom said that this execution might not be the best means of gaining the good will of the mother of his son’s child. “A fair point,” said Sir Thomas. Lord Dexthorpe was adamant; he could not have Jackson at liberty, potentially raising the son of the man that he had killed. Susan suggested that Stephen Jackson be sent far away, perhaps to Antigua.
The compromise made no one particularly happy. Lord Dexthorpe wanted revenge, but there were mitigating circumstances in his son’s death, and he needed to be on speaking terms with his grandchild’s mother. Stephen Jackson and Ann Jones would never be together, but Stephen Jackson would live. The most satisfied was Sir Thomas, who thought the young man would prove useful on his estate in the West Indies. Furthermore, the baronet employed several of Stephen Jackson’s brothers and cousins, and their loyalty would be greatly improved if the young man were sentenced to transportation instead of execution.
“So that can be arranged?” asked Ann Jones.
The baron and the baronet had influence. They conferred and dictated letters, which Susan wrote carefully, that would serve to secure Stephen Jackson’s release and passage. The baron would not consent to Ann Jones meeting with Stephen Jackson, but agreed to her sending him an epistolary message. Mrs. Rushworth offered to help Ann create this letter of adieu to Jackson; the two young women sat at a table in the library to write. Poor Ann Jones was much affected as she composed this farewell, and as her tears fell, Susan detected how even Lord Dexthorpe was made uneasy by her unhappiness. Susan also noticed, with some surprise, the patient kindness that Maria showed Ann Jones. Was Mrs. Rushworth charitable towards Ann Jones because Maria, given her own difficulties, had sympathy with the housemaid’s situation? Or was this improvement in Maria’s personality due to the removal of Mrs. Norris’s malevolent influence?
Ann Jones’s farewell letter to Stephen Jackson was soon finished, and she and Maria were excused, while Tom and Susan remained to assist the baron and the baronet with the remaining business. While the men discussed shipping and sugar, Susan wondered what the future held for the star-crossed lovers. Would Jackson thrive in Antigua, or would he succumb to some local disease? Would Ann Jones survive her lying-in? Were they destined to be apart for the rest of their natural lives, or would fate somehow relent and bring them back together? The housemaid’s artless tears had made Susan sentimental, and she was glad
when the business was finished, the letters franked, and they could repair to the drawing-room for tea.
Sir Thomas also hoped the business was truly finished. Less than a month had passed since the murder of Mr. George Yates, and so the investigation had not taken that long to complete, but during those weeks there had been uncertainty, suspicion, and additional deaths, and the threat of Lord Dexthorpe on Sir Thomas’s business interests, so the days had dragged. Now that his son’s killer was caught, and his punishment decided upon, Sir Thomas’s greatest wish was for the baron to leave Mansfield Park sooner rather than later. Sir Thomas, disgusted by what the baron’s late son had done to the baronet’s daughter, niece, and servant, was uncharitable in his opinion of the dead. Mr. George Yates had been a complete scoundrel; the world was a better place without him in it. Sir Thomas reproached himself mentally for having such a thought while in the company of the still-grieving father, and aloud reminded him that a happy occasion was expected: a grandchild.
Lord Dexthorpe frowned, and muttered that a natural grandchild from a servant was not exactly a cause for celebration. Elissa, seated next to her grandmother on the sofa, prevented him from saying more on the subject. Sir Thomas reminded the baron that several natural children had made great impacts on history. The baron agreed, mentioning William the Conqueror, while Mr. John Yates named Leonardo da Vinci and Tom Bertram gave the example of Alexander Hamilton, who, although American, had certainly made a difference in the world.
The Mansfield Park Murders Page 22
