The Matters at Mansfield

A break in their conversation suggested that the maid had at last won Mrs. Norris’s attention. Darcy and Elizabeth heard their names announced; they were the next minute ushered into the morning room.

Maria picked indifferently at a piece of needlework as Mrs. Norris greeted them. After the requisite exchange of empty pleasantries, Elizabeth addressed Mrs. Rushworth.

“We are happy to find you at home,” she said. “I do wish this were merely a social call, but I am afraid my husband and I must beg your assistance. As Mrs. Norris has no doubt told you, Mr. Crawford was discovered dead yesterday. His injuries were such that his remains were identified by his personal effects — among them, these earrings.” She withdrew the baubles from her reticule and held them toward Maria. “Mr. Darcy and I are fairly certain these are the ear-bobs you returned to Mr. Crawford on the day of his disappearance, but we hope you will confirm our identification. As you surely understand, this is too important a matter to risk error.”

Maria set aside her needlework to take the ear-bobs from Elizabeth’s hand. She outlined one of the pendant gems with her forefinger, her expression impassive. “Yes, these are the earrings.”

“We are trying to trace Mr. Crawford’s movements that day. Did you happen to see him again after you left the inn?”

“No. I came back to White House and did not go out again.”

“I can vouch for her on that account,” said Mrs. Norris.

“But you left here for a time to visit my mother.”

Mrs. Norris regarded Maria with annoyance. Elizabeth wondered whether she had been trying to reinforce her niece’s alibi out of suspicion — or knowledge — that she had not in fact been where she claimed.

“So I did,” Mrs. Norris said. “But you were in your chamber when I departed, and still there when I returned.”

“I have nowhere else to go in this deplorable village. As if I care whether anybody in Mansfield receives me.” She closed her hand around the earrings and reached out to return them to Elizabeth. “Here. I have answered your questions.”

Mrs. Norris intercepted. “Allow me to see those, Maria.”

Mrs. Rushworth surrendered them to her aunt, who held them up to catch the light. Sunlight glinted off the sapphires. “You ought to keep these. Mr. Crawford no longer has any use for them.”

“Neither do I.”

“Well — I shall retain them lest you change your mind.”

Before Elizabeth could issue a startled protest, Mrs. Norris deposited the earrings in her own workbag. Elizabeth decided to let the presumptuousness go for now, as she and Darcy had yet more information they hoped to obtain.

“Mrs. Rushworth, I realize that speaking of Mr. Crawford might cause you distress, but may I ask you to indulge me in a few more queries?”

“It depends upon what they are.”

“Another item was found with Mr. Crawford’s remains — a pistol. Do you recall his having possessed one?”

“Not whilst we were in London. I have never seen Everingham, however, and so do not know what possessions he might keep there.”

The sound of a carriage drew their attention to the window. A chaise had come up the lane and stopped in front of White House. Elizabeth recognized the livery.

“Mr. Rushworth has come to call!” Mrs. Norris exclaimed. “See, Maria — it is not too late. Matters between you might yet be patched up.” She crossed to the window to obtain a better view. “He has just alighted. Smooth your hair, child — remind him why he married you.”

“But I—”

“Oh, why did she have to accompany him?” Mrs. Norris scowled as Mr. Rushworth handed his mother out of the carriage. “Well, no matter. I will manage her, as I said I would. Do not you fret, Maria — your Aunt Norris will have you living back at Sotherton Court within a fortnight.”

Maria stood and stomped. “You are not listening! I—”

“Maria, I am the only remaining friend you have. Who but your Aunt Norris stepped forward to take you in when your own father would not? You must heed my counsel. Divorce is an evil to be avoided at all costs. Mr. Rushworth may be thick-witted, but he is the only chance you have at salvaging your respectability.” Mrs. Norris turned from the window and glanced at the Darcys with an almost startled expression. Apparently in her exultation over Mr. Rushworth’s arrival, she had forgotten their presence. “If you will excuse us, we have done speaking about Mr. Crawford.”

“We were just about to take leave,” Darcy said. They rose.

A knock on the door was quickly followed by the maid’s announcing the Rushworths’ arrival. Mother and son entered, the dowager responding to the Darcys’ presence with disdain.

“You are Mr. Crawford’s friend, are you not?”

Darcy offered his name and acknowledged the association. “Mr. Crawford was a recent acquaintance, a relation by marriage.” Elizabeth supposed that was as accurate a description of their connection as ought to be attempted. Darcy then introduced Elizabeth, who received a cool nod. Mr. Rushworth bowed, his expression warmer, though not by much.

“Maria, there is a matter of business we need to discuss,” said Mr. Rushworth. “Is there another room in which we could—”

“No, no!” Mrs. Norris interjected. “Stay right here. The Darcys were just departing.”

She instructed the maid to show them out, and dismissed them with scarcely a glance. “Now, Mrs. Rushworth, let us move to the drawing room while your son and my niece converse. May I offer you some tea? Cook prepared Bath cakes this morning, and I have a very fine wild gooseberry jam — my only remaining jar from last year, as I have not yet had time to put up any this season. I know a spot with superior berries—”

“We shall not stay long.”

Elizabeth and Darcy followed the maid to the front door. The servant opened it, startling a man on the other side who had been about to knock. He was a large, burly fellow, and had with him a large, burly dog. Elizabeth had never seen such an enormous mastiff, and was thankful the man held it on a leash.

The man and maid greeted each other. “And who is this?” the maid asked, nodding toward the animal.

“Wolfgang. Mrs. Norris told me to bring him round today.”

“Well, bring him round to the back door and we’ll get him familiar with the place.”

Elizabeth held her tongue until she and Darcy were beyond the gate. “I dislike that woman more with every meeting.”

“Which one?”

“Mrs. — ” She had been about to say “Norris,” but stopped herself. “All of them, actually. Maria reminds me too much of my youngest sister, and the two older matrons are at least as dictatorial as Lady Catherine.”

“Mrs. Norris and the dowager do seem to share some common traits with my aunt.”

“The three of them are insufferable — so certain that they know what is best for everybody else.” Though their power was confined to the domestic sphere, they wielded it with divine self-righteousness. “They could model for a portrait of the Fates.”

“Mrs. Norris spinning the thread, Mrs. Rushworth measuring it, and Lady Catherine cutting it off?”

“A sanctimonious triumvirate that rules through intimidation.” She took his arm to steady herself as she negotiated another muddy patch of road.

“Surely they do not intimidate you? Why, you have been standing up to my aunt since before we were engaged, and after a few more years as mistress of Pemberley I fully expect you will be as capable as they of commanding everybody around you.”

She halted abruptly. “Are you quite serious?” Images of herself ten, fifteen years into the future flashed in her mind. She saw herself arranging a betrothal for Lily-Anne without her knowledge, manipulating her neighbors, lecturing her guests. She did not like what she saw. Did Darcy truly think her capable of such behavior? “No one knows what is best for everybody else, including me,” she said. “And I do not want to become the sort of person who thinks she does.”

“I did but jest,” he said. “I could never have married you if I thought you inclined to my aunt’s propensities. One Lady Catherine in our family is more than enough.”