Lynn Shepherd
Author Book List

Murder at Mansfield Park takes Jane Austen’s masterpiece and turns it into a riveting murder story worthy of PD James or Agatha Christie. Just as in many classic English detective mysteries, this new novel opens with a group of characters in a country house setting, with passions running high, and simmering tensions beneath the elegant Regency surface. The arrival of the handsome and debonair Henry Crawford and his sister forces these tensions into the open, and sparks a chain of events that leads inexorably to violence and death.

Beautifully written, with an absolute faithfulness to the language in use at the time, Murder at Mansfield Park is both a good old-fashioned murder mystery that keeps the reader guessing until the very last page, and a sparklingly clever inversion of the original, which goes to the heart of many of the questions raised by Jane Austen’s text. Austen’s Mansfield Park is radically different from any of her other works, and much of the pleasure of Lynn Shepherd’s novel lies in the way it takes the characters and episodes in the original, and turns them into a lighter, sharper, and more playful book, with a new heroine at its centre – a heroine who owes far more to the lively and spirited Elizabeth Bennet, than the dreary and insipid Fanny Price.

A treat for Austen lovers and murder mystery aficionados alike.

Excerpt

Murder at Mansfield Park – an excerpt

There has been a gruesome murder at Mansfield, and in his father’s absence Tom Bertram has summoned a thief taker from London, to help solve the crime.

Now read on…

Mary sat for a few minutes deliberating whether it would be best to return to the parsonage; her sister must be wondering where she was. She was still debating the matter when she heard the sound of a carriage on the drive, and went to the window. It was a very handsome equipage, but the horses were post; and neither the carriage, nor the coachman who drove it, were familiar to her. The man who emerged was a little above medium height, with rather strong features and a visible scar above one eye. His clothes, however, were fashionable and of very superior quality, and he stood for a moment looking confidently about him, as if he was weighing what he saw, and putting the intelligence aside for future use. He was not handsome, or not, at least, in any conventional manner, but there was some thing about him, a sense of latent energy, of formidable powers held in check, as might command attention, and draw every eye, even in the most crowded of rooms. As she observed him ascend the steps to the door, Mary did not need to overhear the servant’s announcement to guess that the man before her eyes was none other than Mr Charles Maddox.

A few moments later, this impressive and uncommon personage was being shewn into Sir Thomas’s room, where Tom and Edmund were awaiting him.  The former had taken up the post of honour behind his father’s desk, while his cousin was standing by the window, evidently ill at ease. They had both been to Oxford, and no doubt considered themselves men of the world; but such a creature as Maddox was far beyond their experience.

“Good day to you, sirs!” said their visitor, with the most perfunctory of bows. “I admire your discernment. This will do admirably.”

“I am not sure I understand you,” said Tom, who had not expected such extraordinary self-assurance from a man who was to be in his employ.

But Maddox had already assumed a proprietorial air, and was wandering about the room, running his hand over the furniture, and inspecting the view from the windows. “This will make a very suitable ‘seat of operations’, as I like to call it. I will have my assistants set up in here.”
”But this is my father’s room - ” began Tom, looking at him in consternation.

Maddox waved his hand, “You have nothing to fear on that score, Mr Bertram. His house shall not be hurt.  For every thing of that nature, I will be answerable. And my men are good men.  They know how to behave themselves, even in such a grand house as this one."

Tom and Edmund exchanged a look in which there was as much anxiety on the one side, as there was reproof on the other; the door then opened a second time, and two men appeared, carrying a large trunk.  One was tall and thin, with a pock-marked face; the other short and stout, with a reddened and weather-beaten complexion, and his fore-teeth gone. They set down their burden heavily on the carpet, then departed as they had come, without a word, but leaving behind them a distinct waft of tobacco. Maddox, meanwhile, had installed himself comfortably in an elbow-chair, without staying to be asked.

“And now to business,” he said, genially. “You agree to my terms, both as to the daily rate, and the reward in the event of an arrest?”

Tom endeavoured to regain the dignified manner suitable to the head of such a house, and reclaim the mastery of the situation, “We consider ourselves fortunate to be able to call upon a man of your reputation, Mr Maddox. Indeed, we are relying on you to bring matters to a prompt and satisfactory conclusion.”

“My own aim, entirely,” said Maddox, with a smile. “And in the pursuit of same, may I begin by examining the corpse?”

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