Murder at Mansfield Park

distinguish Mrs Norris’s
vociferous tones in the general fracas , and knowing that lady was not in the habit of receiving visitors any where other than in the full pomp and magnificence of the Mansfield Park
drawing-room, he suspected some thing untoward, and ventured out to investigate the matter for himself. The gentleman at the door was a stranger to him, but first impressions were Maddox’s
stock-in-trade. He prided himself on his ability to have a man’s measure in a minute, and he was rarely wrong. This man was, he saw, both weary and travel-soiled, but richly and elegantly
attired. Maddox was some thing of a connoisseur in dress; it was a partiality of his, but it had also proved, on occasion, to be of signal use in the more obscure by-roads of his profession. He
could, for example, hazard a reasonable estimation as to where these clothes had been made, by which London tailor, and at what cost. This was, indeed, a man of considerable air and address;
moreover, the set of his chin, and the boldness of his eye, argued for no small measure of pride and defiance. Yet, in spite of all this, it piqued Maddox’s curiosity not a little to see that
Mrs Norris accorded the newcomer neither courtesy nor common civility, and her chief object in leaving the sanctuary of the drawing-room for the draughtiness of the hall seemed to be to compel the
footmen to expel the intruder without delay.
    ‘May I be of some assistance, Mrs Norris?’ said Maddox, with a bow. ‘And perhaps you might do me the honour of introducing me to this gentleman.’
    ‘There will be no call for that,’ said Mrs Norris quickly. ‘And I can assure you, he is not a gentleman . Indeed I cannot think what Mr Crawford is doing here,
unless it be to enquire what we intend to do about the improvements. The time is not convenient, sir. We cannot stay dinner to satisfy the importunate demands of a hired hand . I suggest you
call on the steward in the morning.’
    ‘So this,’ mused Maddox, ‘is the Henry Crawford of whom I have heard so much.’ His person and countenance were equal to what his imagination might have drawn, but Maddox
had been in Mary Crawford’s company sufficiently often to make a tolerable guess as to the number of her gowns, and the constraints on her purse. He had not expected a brother of hers to have
the means to equip himself so handsomely; an idea was forming in his mind, and he began to have a faint glimmering of suspicion as to what was to ensue.
    ‘Forgive the intrusion at this late hour,’ said Henry, ‘but am I correct in supposing that I am addressing Mr Charles Maddox? I am but recently arrived at the parsonage, and
have only now been informed about—’
    ‘We have no need of your sympathy, Mr Crawford,’ said Mrs Norris, drawing herself up more stiffly than ever. ‘Who knows, or cares, for what you have to say? The
death of Miss Price is a private family affair, and can have nothing whatsoever to do with such as you .’
    ‘I beg to differ, madam,’ said Henry, coldly. ‘I rode up here directly, as soon as I heard the news. It became absolutely necessary that you should all know the full truth, and
from my own lips.’
    ‘What truth, sir?’ demanded Mrs Norris, peremptorily.
    ‘The truth that Fanny—’
    ‘Fanny? Fanny ?’ she gasped. ‘By what right, sir, do you dare to call Miss Price by her Christian name?’
    Henry stood his ground, and did not flinch. ‘The best right in the world, madam. A husband ’s right.’
    There was a instant of terrible silence, then she threw up her hands before her face, uttered a piercing shriek, and sank down prostrate on the floor. Maddox had anticipated the revelation by
some moments, and knowing some thing of Mrs Norris, and conjecturing pretty well what a blow this must be to the family’s pride and repute, he feared that she might succumb to a fit. But Mrs
Norris had a strong constitution, and quickly found a vent for her fury and indignation in a vehement bout of crying, scolding, cursing, and abuse.
    ‘You are a scoundrel ,’ she screamed, pointing her finger in Henry’s face, ‘a felon—a lying, despicable blackguard —the most infamous and depraved villain that ever debauched innocence and virtue—’
    This invective being interspersed by screams so loud as must soon alarm the whole house, Maddox made haste to lift Mrs Norris to her feet, and turning to the butler, interposed with all
necessary authority, ‘I think,