Murder at Mansfield Park

"Perhaps. Perhaps not. Humour me a little, Miss Crawford."

She saw at once that opposition to a man of Maddox’s stamp would be of little use, and might indeed prove perilous; she did not want this man as her enemy.

"As you wish," she said, taking a deep breath. "My brother owns a small house in Enfield. After our parents died we lived for some years with our uncle near Bedford-square, while a housekeeper took care of the Enfield house. However, when our uncle died we were obliged in due course to leave London, and made arrangements to return to Enfield, as a temporary expedient until we might find some where more commodious. The housekeeper wrote to say she would expect us, and my brother came to fetch me and convey me to the house. It was — quite dreadful. Thieves had broken into the property, and taken everything of any value. The doors were broken open, and some of the windows shattered. We found the young woman lying dead in the parlour, covered in blood. She had been beaten to death, and her skull crushed. Henry believes that she must have surprised the villains in their heinous crime."

"Henry?"

"My brother. He is at present at Sir Robert Ferrars’s estate in Hertford-shire. He left here some days before Miss Price’s disappearance."

"You hear from him regularly?"

Mary frowned. "Of course."

"Quite so. Pray continue, Miss Crawford."

"There is little left to tell. The culprits were never apprehended, and I have never set foot in the house from that day to this. It brings back memories I have striven to forget. Until now."

Maddox nodded slowly. "I can quite see that all this must be a painful reminder of what happened to poor Mrs Tranter."

Mary started. "But how — I did not tell you her name — how could you possibly know such a thing?"

Maddox gave her a knowing look, and tapped the side of his nose. "Someone in my profession comes to know many things, Miss Crawford. Some good, some bad. And some that other people believe to be secrets that they alone possess.You would — all of you — do well to remember that."

Chapter 13

"The steward was summoned after you left. It appears this Maddox fellow insisted upon seeing that accursed trench with his own eyes." Dr Grant nodded to the servant to refill his glass, and sat back in his chair.

"Would to God your brother had never conceived of such a foolish plan, Mary. No good can come from such unwarrantable and vainglorious interference in the works of God. We should be content with what He has seen fit to bestow, and not attempt what we call “improvements”, which are nought but monuments to our own arrogance and folly. Sir Thomas will rue the day he set out upon such an injudicious enterprise. Indeed, I remarked as much at the time."

"How did you come to hear of this, my dear?" enquired Mrs Grant, who was accustomed to such pronouncements at the dinner-table, and was rather more preoccupied with how little her sister had eaten of the excellent turkey the cook had dressed specially that day.

"I met with McGregor myself, as I was coming back from Mansfield-common. He informed me that Maddox spent above an hour on his hands and knees, examining the dirt. Let us hope he is equipped with such boots and breeches as may withstand such barbarous treatment. But it was of no avail; he did not find whatever it was he was seeking. I believe the word he employed" — this with something of a sneer — "was clues."

"You do not surprise me, Dr Grant," said his wife. "As if there could be anything still lying there, after all this time. I do not see why such a man as this Mr Maddox is needed, at all. To my mind, the whole dreadful business is easily enough explained — it will be those gipsies I told you of, Mary. They were seen at Stoke-hill two days ago, and accosted a party of ladies in a lane not three miles from here. There were half a dozen children, at least, as well as several stout women, and a gang of great rough boys. The ladies were frightened quite out of their wits."

Mary had said little during dinner, and her spirits remained agitated and distracted after her encounter with Maddox, but her sister’s words drew her attention; she had been imagining all kinds of dreadful possibilities, anyone of which would make grievous inroads on the tranquillity of all, but might the answer be far more simple and common-place than that? Might the blame lie with a group of common gipsies? Mary could well see such a throng demanding money, and Fanny refusing in all the disdain of angry superiority, which would only have served to enrage them all the more.

"It is an interesting little theory, my dear, but, I fear, rather wide of the mark," said Dr Grant, his sonorous tones breaking through Mary’s thoughts. "Not least because Mr Maddox seems to have discovered the ghastly implement."

Both the ladies looked at him in shock and dismay."What can you mean, Dr Grant?" said his wife.