Murder at Mansfield Park

bitterness; it had been torn
from her like the child she had never borne, and here, before her very eyes, was the woman to whom so much of the blame could be attributed.
    She threw down the basket upon the table, and seized one of the silver knives within it.
    ‘No!’ cried Mary, backing away. ‘You are not thinking clearly—someone will be here at any moment—they will discover you—you cannot hope to
escape—’
    ‘Your brother, perhaps? Or that piece of vermin Stornaway? When I last saw them they were chatting away quite comfortably in the alcove. Which does not surprise me ; it is clear your
brother is quite at home with men of that class.’
    ‘Then your own servants—they will be returning from the Park.’
    ‘I have already had the foresight to allow them a half-holiday, out of respect to the dear departed. I did not want my step-son disturbed—not before matters were brought to their
inevitable conclusion. You see, you underestimate me, Miss Crawford, as you always have. You and that reptile Maddox alike. He thinks only a man could be capable of what I have done, just as you think I am so weak-minded as not to have anticipated this very possibility, and planned accordingly. I knew you might eventually piece together who was really responsible for
Fanny’s death, and I have been prepared to act for some days past.’
    She stopped, and smiled, a smile that froze Mary’s very soul. ‘In fact, I am indebted to you, Miss Crawford. You have made it easier for me than I could have ever hoped. I will only have to say that I found you dead when I opened the door. My step-son is already accused of a crime no less violent, and it will not be difficult to induce people to believe him capable of
another act of equal savagery. Indeed, it will merely make it easier to explain his regrettable decision to take his own life.’
    All this time Mary had been edging along the side of the table, hoping to attain the French door, and praying that it would not be locked; but she was too slow, and Mrs Norris too quick. Time
and time again Mary had heard tell of this woman’s energy and vigour, but she had never seen it put to such dreadful use. She seized Mary by the arm, and twisted it so brutally that she fell
back against the table, gasping in pain, and then in fear, as she felt the cold blade of the silver knife pressed against her throat. Overcome with panic, she wrenched herself away and reached in
desperation for the empty glass on the table—any thing that might serve to defend herself—but it span away from her on the polished wood, and she felt fingers in her hair, and an arm
dragging her back and down. She put up her hands to shield her face, but she was too late. The blade flashed before her sight, and as the hot blood ran on her skin, and the icy metal cut into her
flesh, her eyes filled with darkness, and she knew no more.
    Maddox had heard enough. He pushed his fist through the window-pane and threw open the door. He had relied on surprising her, and it did indeed buy him a few precious seconds.
The old woman looked up at him, and at the burly figure of Fraser at his heels. Her eyes narrowed, and she raised her hand to strike, just as Maddox seized her wiry wrist, and forced the blade from
her grasp. As the knife clattered onto the floor he dragged her away from the insentient body of Mary Crawford, and pushed her, none too gently, into Fraser’s muscular clutches. She began to
shriek and kick, the spittle dripping from her mouth as she hurled a stream of such rank and obscene insults, as would not have disgraced one of the more brazen Covent-garden whores of
Maddox’s acquaintance.
    ‘Secure this harpy’s hands, and take her down to the cellar,’ he said, with an expression of disgust. ‘She is not fit for decent company. And make sure to lock the door
behind you.’
    ‘Aye, sir. It’ll be my personal pleasure.’
    ‘And call Stornaway in from the garden. I need to send him at once in search of the physician.’
    Fraser nodded, and hoisted the screaming woman over his shoulder, and made towards the door, while she all the while hurled invective at anyone prepared to listen.
    ‘And you can tell that slattern Mary Crawford that I insist she cleans that blood off the carpet before she goes, even if it means getting down on her hands and knees and scrubbing
it herself. That carpet is genuine Turkey, I’ll have you know, and cost me fifteen shillings a yard from Laidler’s,