The Mansfield Park Murders

by Victoria Grossack

  ​Susan reflected that all had been rebellious men in their way, but perhaps that was what was needed for a man to make a difference in the world. Perhaps illegitimacy bestowed a kind of freedom on some men, as the illegitimate had fewer expectations restraining them. If you had no reputation to safeguard, you could do more of what you wished.

  ​Lady Bertram observed that it was very pleasant to have a grandchild, and said that she had been instructing Elissa in saying “please” and “thank you” when she wanted a biscuit.

  ​Lord Dexthorpe supposed that a grandchild would be pleasant, especially as George, for all his faults, had been so vital. It was a pity he had never produced a legitimate heir. These words, uttered before Mr. John Yates, now his heir, seemed rather cruel – but the baron was so despondent that no one reproached him for them.

  ​Consolation came from Lady Bertram. She said that she supposed the baron’s words were true, but that it was time for Julia to relate her own news. She beamed at her younger daughter, who sat on another sofa between Mr. John Yates and Maria.

  ​Everyone turned to look at Julia, who blushed but admitted that she was expecting a child. Exclamations followed and congratulations were uttered by many in the room, except for Lord Dexthorpe, who for once was speechless.

  ​After some discussion on this topic, during which Susan wondered how she could have failed to perceive Julia’s condition, but supposed she had been distracted by the murders and everything else, her aunt spoke again. Lady Bertram confirmed that she had known Julia was expecting for some time, as her symptoms were exactly what she had experienced. Lady Bertram was aware, however, that Julia had suffered several disappointments during the last two years so had not wished to mention it until she was further along. Mr. John Yates, also aware of his wife’s situation, confirmed that Julia had sworn him to silence.

  ​Rarely could Lady Bertram claim expertise in anything, but on this subject no one could contradict her. Lady Bertram had recognized the cause of Julia’s excessive fatigue, and said she was perfectly aware that Julia had been stealing bread from the kitchens in order to calm her unhappy system. Lady Bertram had actually pretended to be the bread thief herself in order to protect her daughter’s secret. Susan was rather surprised at the extent of her aunt’s initiative; generally Lady Bertram roused herself so little.

  ​“You will have to inform Cook,” said Susan, “and set her mind at ease.”

  ​Lady Bertram promised to restore tranquility in the kitchens, then enquired minutely of her younger daughter regarding her health, a conversation which rather embarrassed the men, but the women persisted.

  ​“My dear, I remember when I was carrying Tom, that I felt exactly the same way.” Lady Bertram informed Lord Dexthorpe that in five or six months he could expect to have a grandson. And a few months after that, another grandchild could be expected from Ann Jones.

  ​“Life continues,” said Sir Thomas, also pleased by the prospect of a legitimate grandchild, especially as it – if a boy, as Lady Bertram predicted – could one day expect to be a baron himself.

  ​Lord Dexthorpe was unsettled by this joyous news. He had intended to remain cross, but in these circumstances he could not. Unable to speak happily, as that would be at odds with his personality, he glanced out the window and determined that the rain had stopped. He decided to take a walk to relieve his feelings, and he asked his remaining son to come along with him.

  ​Julia, finally speaking unreservedly of her condition, asked her mother if she could recommend anything to stop from feeling so wretched.

  ​Lady Bertram knew there was something, but could not remember. “Something my sister recommended,” she said. Fortunately, Sir Thomas’s ability to recollect those times was better than his wife’s, and he reminded her that fennel had shown the most utility.

  ​“Oh, yes, fennel!” exclaimed Lady Bertram. “You will soon feel better. Come, Julia, my dear, let us go to the kitchens. We can explain to Cook at the same time.”

  ​For Lady Bertram to exert herself sufficiently to go to the kitchens was a grand occasion indeed, but announcing the news had given her strength, while Julia was eager to seek any remedy that could give her relief. Susan wondered how many years it had been since Lady Bertram had visited the Mansfield Park kitchens, and if her aunt even knew where they were. Of course, Julia, who had been purloining bread from them, was aware of their location. Elissa wanted to see the kitchens as well and so the three generations left together.

  ​“A happy day, indeed,” said Sir Thomas.

  ​Susan and Tom congratulated Sir Thomas, and after a moment Maria, who had been silent while the others rejoiced, composed herself sufficiently to do so as well. Poor Maria! thought Susan. A few years ago, Maria’s future had shone brightly, with a rich husband and an estate in the neighborhood. Now her younger sister was ascendant, with a title and a fortune in her future, while Maria could only look forward to more years of disgrace. Would Sir Thomas allow her to remain at Mansfield Park or would he send her away? Maria’s former companion, Mrs. Norris, was dead, so with whom would she share her banishment?

  ​Tom, standing by the window, reported on the progress of Lord Dexthorpe and Mr. John Yates. Tom could not hear them, but he could see them, and he described their many gestures. “Dexthorpe is pointing at something – now he is patting Yates on the back in a friendly manner – now Dexthorpe is smiling and shaking his son’s hand. It appears that Yates has been able to lift his father’s spirits.”

  ​Susan felt more amiable towards Mr. John Yates than she ever had before. She would have been content for Lord Dexthorpe and Mr. Yates to remain in the rose garden, but Tom then announced that several large raindrops had hit the window, and that an afternoon squall would certainly force the baron and his son back inside.

  ​Tom was right; the baron came back inside. Lord Dexthorpe announced he would leave for Lincolnshire the next day. “If the weather is fine, that is.”

  ​Everyone in the room hoped fervently for fine weather on the morrow, then they all went to dress for dinner. With the fear of poisoning gone and Cook informed about the actual bread thief, the meal was better than it had been in days. After dinner, Sir Thomas invited Lord Dexthorpe to his rooms for brandy and conversation – the baronet, confident now that the baron would be departing soon, found it easy to be civil; Tom and Mr. John Yates went to the billiard room, and the ladies spent their time in the drawing-room. Maria read aloud to the other women; Lady Bertram held a pillow where her dog used to sit; Julia sipped an infusion of fennel and looked happier than she had for the last month, and Susan applied herself to the long-neglected poor basket.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  The next day, the weather was good enough for Lord Dexthorpe to depart; Mr. and Mrs. John Yates followed the baron to Lincolnshire several days later. After learning that the Grants were about to leave for London, Tom invited Susan to accompany him to the Parsonage to bid its occupants farewell. Tom thanked Mr. Crawford for making the journey to Northamptonshire, as the information that he had brought had helped clear him of the suspicion of murder, while Susan, after exchanging pleasantries with Dr. and Mrs. Grant, was escorted into the Parsonage shrubbery by Miss Crawford, who had much to say. Most of the discussion centered on the events of the summer, with Miss Price answering many questions and satisfying Miss Crawford’s curiosity.

  ​“With so many gone, will it be too quiet for you?” inquired Miss Crawford.

  ​Susan did not think so; she had plenty to keep her occupied. She had been assisting her uncle with his correspondence, which, due to the summer’s events, had fallen behind. Also, as Sir Thomas had disliked being threatened by Lord Dexthorpe and Tom had hated the cruelty of the sugar plantation, they were working on finding alternative sources of income.

  ​“You do not find that dreadfully dull?” inquired Miss Crawford.

  ​On the contrary, after being suspected of murder, Susan found it relaxing. “I prefer to keep busy.”
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br />   ​“And I suppose you find shipping contracts of more interest than this season’s sleeves. Well, Miss Price, I admire you. And do not take me wrong, but in one respect you resemble your late aunt: you are active and strong.” Before Susan could protest the comparison or the compliment, Miss Crawford changed the topic. “I do not know if I will ever return, therefore I have a request to make. Will you correspond with me? My letter-writing habits are not much better than my brother’s, but I hope not to be excluded entirely from news of Mansfield Park. I have a great interest in all of you.”

  ​Susan said she was happy to do so. She appreciated what Miss Crawford had done for her, and she was also aware that having a friend in the Crawford family could be advantageous for the Price family. Miss Crawford’s uncle was an admiral with influence, and not just William, but several of Susan’s brothers, were in the navy.

  ​Mr. Bertram appeared with the Grants and Mr. Crawford; the visit had been long; they were certainly wanted at home. Susan made her farewells and she joined her cousin for the walk back to the Park. Tom remarked on the number of departures.

  ​Susan said she was looking forward to some tranquility. “I used to wish for more company at Mansfield Park, but no longer.”

  ​Tom laughed and agreed, but when they arrived at the house they discovered that the family party had increased for the day, as Mr. and Mrs. Edmund Bertram had come over from Thornton Lacey. Fanny had brought a gift for her mother-in-law.

  ​“I have a great favor to ask of you, Aunt,” began Mrs. Bertram.

  ​Lady Bertram was not accustomed to granting favors, so she listened with some surprise.

  ​“With my duties as the wife of a clergyman, I am too busy to give this puppy enough attention. Would you be so kind as to care for him?”

  ​Lady Bertram hesitated, as if no other animal could replace her dear Pug, but then Fanny placed the dog on the sofa beside her aunt. The dog licked her hand and then Elissa, on her grandmother’s other side, begged to be allowed to pet him. “What is his name?” asked the little girl.

  ​Fanny said she would allow her aunt to choose the dog’s name, but Lady Bertram had little imagination and could only think of “Pug.” Finally, Maria suggested “Norris.” Susan did not know if they should honor a murderess – the woman who had poisoned Lady Bertram’s last pet – but the name pleased her aunt. And was it such an honor, for a namesake to be a dog?

  ​Eventually the men withdrew; Elissa and Lady Bertram settled down for naps; and Maria was summoned by Sir Thomas for a discussion about her future. Fanny and Susan went into the garden for a tête-à-tête. Each had much to tell: Fanny, about all the calls she had received and all the calls she was making, as she became acquainted with the members of her husband’s parish, and Susan, about the many difficulties of the last month. Susan explained that she had agreed to correspond with Miss Crawford, something that surprised and did not entirely please Fanny.

  ​“How could I refuse?” asked Susan. “Besides, Admiral Crawford may be of assistance to our brothers.”

  ​Fanny acknowledged the sense in her sister’s approach. “You were always more practical than I.”

  ​“Perhaps,” said Susan.

  ​“Certainly, you are stronger.”

  ​“That, I doubt,” Susan said. She explained that Mrs. Norris had been especially unkind, and she had not understood how Fanny had endured her cruelty for so many years. Susan could not regret her death, just as she could not regret the death of Mr. George Yates. The only deaths that touched her were Pug and poor Mr. Rushworth.

  ​Fanny did not upbraid Susan for her lack of Christian charity; she only counseled Susan to do her best to put the unhappy memories of Mr. Yates and Mrs. Norris behind her. “They both stand before their Maker now, and He will decide their reward or punishment. You need not concern yourself.”

  ​Susan found the words comforting and told Fanny she made Edmund an excellent helpmate. “I hope so,” said Fanny, and then the sisters returned indoors, where they were wanted by Lady Bertram. They learned that decisions for Maria and Ann Jones had been reached; the women would live together in a small house owned by Lord Dexthorpe. The funds for the residence would come from the baron, in order to support his natural grandchild and to make amends for some of the trouble his son had caused. Mrs. Rushworth said she was satisfied with the arrangement. The house was near the boundary of the counties of Lincolnshire and Northamptonshire, so she would not be as distant from her relations as she had been while in Ireland. She could hope for eventual readmission into her families; if not from the current baron and baronet, from their successors, as Julia, the future Lady Dexthorpe, and Tom, the future baronet, were not so harsh in their judgments. And the money she had been given by Mrs. Norris gave Mrs. Rushworth some independence that she had not had before.

  ​“I must be wiser in the future,” Maria admitted, and entertained her relations by playing the pianoforte. Afterwards, Susan organized a quiet game to amuse them, and the evening passed serenely. Edmund spoke the most, describing a new lamp that had been invented for going into mines, a topic that intrigued them all as they sat in candlelight. Tom, who was always interested in new objects, mentioned a project that had been started by a Frenchman to capture permanently the image made with a camera obscura. Susan and Lady Bertram both expressed an interest in seeing how a camera obscura worked, and as the principle was simple, Tom and Edmund had some deal board brought in and constructed a rudimentary version of the apparatus.

  ​Mr. and Mrs. Edmund Bertram, alas, had to return to Thornton Lacey the next day. As Edmund made his adieus to other members of his family, Susan had a moment alone with Fanny. “I know you are happy where you are now, but I miss you,” said Susan.

  ​“You care for him, do you not?” asked Fanny.

  ​Susan blushed. She did not need to ask who the him was.

  ​Fanny added, “I think you would be good for him. Edmund thinks so as well.”

  ​Although Susan had been reluctant to broach the topic, now that it had been opened, she was eager for its continuance, and wanted to hear why Edmund held that opinion, but it was too late. The carriage arrived. Susan noted that Dick Jackson, a nephew of Stephen’s, was sitting with Wilcox, and was being trained to replace his recently departed uncle. Sir Thomas warned them to be careful, and Mr. and Mrs. Edmund Bertram climbed into the carriage, which then drove away.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  During the next fortnight, after learning that the house was ready for them, Maria and Ann Jones departed from Mansfield Park as well. After such an eventful summer, the Park seemed very quiet, and everyone had to resume more ordinary tasks. Lady Bertram stocked up on baby linen, Elissa played with Norris and progressed in the alphabet, and Susan was busier than ever, writing letters for her aunt and her uncle. Tom had a friend visit for a few days, and the men went hunting nearly every day. No longer an estate with a curse, Mansfield Park received calls from neighbors. The new, good-humored Mrs. Charles Maddox was not nearly as old as everyone had expected, and her husband was devoted to her. Mr. Hawk, resuming his position in the pulpit, saddened by his loss, preached quietly. They met Mr. Walter Rushworth, who seemed to hold no grudge for Mrs. Norris’s murder of his cousin.

  ​Fanny had said that Edmund approved, but Edmund and Fanny could not speak for Tom. Susan wondered if she had misinterpreted her sister’s hint. Susan and Tom spent hours together nearly every day, laughing, working, discussing plans for Elissa, but she detected no passionate romance on his part. She was not certain if Tom felt anything more than a comfortable fondness for his young cousin and did her best to repress her own feelings. Still, when he entered a room she smiled.

  ​Mrs. Yates sent a letter, in which she wrote that she and John had taken up residence in a large apartment in her father-in-law’s estate. All was well; Lord Dexthorpe’s spirits were much improved, and the hunting season offered the men plenty of exercise. Her own health, she assured them, was good, and she expec
ted to be a mother in the coming January.

  ​Julia’s letter was passed around, along with a happy account from Fanny. Tom, whose friend had left Mansfield Park that morning, remarked to Susan that the younger Bertrams were faring better than the elder Bertrams.

  ​“What do you mean?”

  ​“I mean that Julia and Edmund are more successful than Maria and me. I suppose it is understandable: parents are inexperienced when they raise their older children, but with their younger children they know what they are doing.”

  ​“I cannot dispute your comparison regarding your sisters, but how can you consider your position inferior to Edmund’s?”

  ​“Because Edmund has found happiness. Edmund is a credit to his position.”

  ​“And why do you think that you will not find happiness? That you will not be a credit to your position?”

  ​They were excellent questions, but at that moment Tom did not answer them. Lady Bertram wished to be amused, and Susan suggested a game that she had heard about from Miss Crawford and had recently acquired: “The Panorama of Europe.” Sir Thomas joined them, and by spinning a teetotum they raced from Portugal, with Lady Bertram winning by being the first to reach London.

  ​“I have not been to London in years,” remarked Lady Bertram. Sir Thomas asked his wife if she had any desire to go, but she did not. “This is much more pleasant.” Her ladyship pulled Norris to her lap and Sir Thomas picked up a recent newspaper and read its contents aloud for all.

  ​After a while, her ladyship dozed and Sir Thomas read silently. The cousins found themselves again in conversation. Susan, still very aware of what they had been discussing earlier, chose a different topic. “Do you miss her very much?” Susan asked.

  ​“Miss who?” Tom inquired.

  ​“Elissa’s mother.”

  ​“Oh! I did at first, when my father first sent me away from Antigua. He disapproved so strongly.”