Murder at Mansfield Park

It was the first time she had ever heard him speak so; his manner was as serious as ever, which was only to be expected, but there was a composure in his mien that she had not seen before. She was still pondering what this might signify when he enquired whether she might like to accompany him to inspect the channel for the new cascade.

"I am sorry that my time is so occupied this morning, but Mr McGregor wishes to consult me on a number of practical matters before he allows work to resume. It is a fine morning for such a walk, and it may interest you to see the progress made on your brother’s plans? I am sure the paths will be quite dry."

As Mary well knew, the path a gentleman considers to be dry enough for walking, may still prove ruinous for a lady’s shoes, but she elected to keep her concerns to herself, and the three of them made their way into the garden and across the park. She thought regretfully of the tête-à-tête she had so fondly imagined; no doubt it had been fanciful to expect Edmund to open his heart to her, when so much remained uncertain, and his family was in such affliction, but the presence of a third person prevented any conversation beyond the most common-place remarks, and Edmund was soon deep in discussion with Mr McGregor on the subject of the excavations.

"This first channel was cut some days, ago, sir," the steward was saying, as they approached the place, "but there has been so much rain since then that we were obliged to desist. I became concerned when one of the side walls began to fall away. In Mr Crawford’s absence, I thought it best to wait until I might consult with you on the wisdom of proceeding."

They had just reached the edge of the chasm, and the base of the channel came into view. Many times thereafter Mary would try to recapture the exact order of events, but however hard she strove, the picture always remained confused in her mind. She remembered seeing what appeared, at first sight, to be a dirty bundle of clothes, lying at the bottom of the trench; she remembered wondering how they came to be there; but she could never remember whether it was the stench, or the sight of that terrible face, that revealed the true nature of what lay before her.

She saw McGregor start back in dismay, and cry "What the devil — ", but then her head began to spin, and there was a buzz in her ears. She turned and stumbled a few yards, before sinking on her knees in the damp grass, without the least thought of the injury to her gown. "Please God," she thought, " — not again — do not ask me to endure such a thing again."

She could hear Edmund’s voice behind her, and even in her confusion, it struck her how oddly his calm and measured tone jarred with the horror that now filled her mind.

"Mr McGregor," he was saying, "could I prevail upon you to return to the house at once and summon the constable? You should also send a messenger to Mrs Grant at the parsonage — Miss Crawford has been taken ill."

"No!" Mary cried wildly. "Do not distress her! I am quite well — quite well!" Edmund was at her side in an instant; she heard his voice, and felt his hands lifting her up.

"You are not well." he said firmly, "nor could anyone expect you to be so. Mr McGregor will accompany you back to the house. Pray believe me that I would escort you myself, if it were at all possible, but I have a duty to await the arrival of the constable."

"There is no need — I can remain here," she said weakly, but her knees trembled under her, and she could not deny it.

"Indeed you cannot remain — you must not remain," he continued. "This is no place for a lady. Mr McGregor? Your arm, if you please."

How long it took them to attain the house, Mary had no idea, and likewise she retained no recollection of what happened subsequently.The next few hours passed in a haze. She had some visionary remembrances of figures passing to and fro before her sight, of screams and cries that seemed to come from a great distance, of lowered voices, and a cup of tea pressed into her hand that tasted dull and cloying in her mouth. When at last she came to her senses, she was lying on a bed she did not recognise, in a room she had never seen. But the young woman sitting quietly sewing by the bedside, she had seen before. It was Rogers, one of the Mansfield Park housemaids.

"Oh, miss! You’re awake!" she cried, as Mary struggled to sit up. "We were that worried about you — Mr Gilbert came and everything. It’s just as well Miss Julia is a little better — he’s had his hands full enough with you, and all the other ladies. Your sister’s been sitting with you above three hours, but Mr Norris just persuaded her to go home and get some rest. She was looking almost as pale as you do. Give me a minute, and I’ll go and call Mrs Baddeley — "

"If you please, Rogers," said Mary, her voice thick, "tell me what has happened — I have only the dimmest recollection as to how I came to be here."