Murder at Mansfield Park

palms.’
    ‘And you concluded from this?’
    Mary could not remember concluding any thing at all at the time, but she found herself replying before she was aware, ‘I suppose it is possible that she attempted to defend
herself.’
    ‘Quite so, quite so. That is very likely, I should say.’
    ‘There was also the question of the clothes,’ continued Mary, hesitatingly.
    ‘Go on.’
    ‘She was wearing a very handsome pelisse, trimmed with fur, which I believe had been given to her by her uncle, just before he left for Cumberland. And underneath that, a white muslin
gown. Her boots, also, were of very fine leather—’
    Maddox waved his hand. ‘I am sure all this is most fascinating for you young ladies, but—’
    ‘If you would allow me to finish Mr Maddox, I was going on to say that her boots were caked in mud. They were not designed for walking any great distance, but I believe that is what she
must have done. The weather had lately been very wet.’
    ‘I see—’
    ‘Moreover, the front of the gown was stained with mud. In particular, there were two large dark patches on the skirt.’
    It was Maddox’s turn to look bewildered.
    ‘Do you not see the significance, Mr Maddox? Miss Price was discovered at the bottom of the trench, lying on her back. I was present at that dreadful moment, and I can attest to that. But
the marks on her gown would suggest that she had also, at some point, fallen forwards , onto her knees.’
    Maddox looked at her with new respect. ‘Was there any thing else about her appearance that you noted? Was she, for instance, wearing a wedding ring?’
    ‘No.’
    ‘Was she carrying a purse?’
    ‘No. Nor, I believe, was one discovered in the trench.’
    ‘So she had no money about her at all?’
    ‘No, Mr Maddox, none.’
    This exchange was succeeded by a silence of some minutes. Mary was suddenly aware of the sound of the clock on Sir Thomas’s desk, and the crepitation of the subsiding fire.
    ‘Now, Miss Crawford,’ said Maddox at length, ‘we come to what we might call the heart of the matter. It is clear that you are not a young woman given to fits of the hysterics.
Nonetheless, these are not pleasant subjects. Not pleasant subjects, at all. Would you like me to fetch you a glass of water, before we proceed?’
    ‘No, thank you, Mr Maddox. I am perfectly composed.’
    ‘Quite so, quite so. My next question, then, returns to the subject of her clothes. You have given ample proof of a discerning eye, Miss Crawford, so tell me, was her dress in such a state
as you might expect to find it?’
    ‘How so, Mr Maddox?’
    ‘Was it, shall we say, torn, or rent in any way?’
    ‘There was, I believe, a small tear to the collar of her pelisse. The trim had come away in one place.’
    ‘It was her dress I enquired after, Miss Crawford, not the pelisse.’
    ‘In that case, the answer is no. Apart from the stains I described, it was unharmed.’
    ‘And when you washed the body, you noticed no other injuries, beyond those you have described? None, shall we say, of a more intimate nature?’
    Mary shook her head, feeling her face must be like scarlet; so this was why he had wanted to question her alone. Much as she resented being indebted to him on any account, she could not but be
grateful that Edmund was not in the room at that very instant. Maddox gave her no time to recover her composure; indeed, he gave no sign of having perceived her confusion.
    ‘And what state was the body in,’ he continued, perfectly collected, ‘when you laid it out? Let me be absolutely clear, Miss Crawford. How advanced was the progress of
decomposition?’
    Mary looked at him, but her gaze was steadier than the beatings of her heart. ‘You do not mince matters, do you, Mr Maddox?’
    Maddox spread his hands. ‘I did warn you I would be candid, Miss Crawford. In my experience, there is little to be gained by evading the truth. Not in cases of murder, at any
rate.’
    Mary took a deep breath. ‘Very well. Let us say that the—the—natural process—had commenced, but I do not believe it had advanced more than one or two days.’
    ‘Indeed? And why should you say that? There are those in the household, I am told, who believe that she must have lain there above a fortnight. Nay, sixteen full days, if my own
computations are correct.’
    Mary shook her head. ‘That is quite impossible,’ she said quickly. ‘As you are already so well informed, Mr Maddox, you must also know that