Detective Mary

Chapter 20

In fact, Mary wouldn't mind telling a synopsis of the story if she didn't consider scaring the ladies in the room.

After all, there was a bit of a gap between her perceptions and values and those of this era, and there could almost be said to be a chasm between nineteenth-century culture and twenty-first-century culture.

In literature, this era has no non-linear narrative, no point-of-view character writing techniques, not to mention the existence of stream-of-consciousness or the chaotic art of time and space interlacing, so the same nineteenth-century female writers, Charlotte Bronte's "Jane Eyre" once published was well received, while her sister's more modern "Wuthering Heights", was not until later generations to be mined out of the value of art.

So Mary did want to get direct feedback so that she could have a good idea of what to expect before she put pen to paper.

It's just that ......"

"I've always loved detective stories," she spoke truthfully, "and naturally I'd like to create my own to try my hand at a detective story, except that for one thing, I only have rough inspiration for the case right now, and I haven't thought about how to put pen to paper, and for another, when it comes to detectives, murder and intrigue are inevitable, and I'm afraid Miss Bentley wouldn't like that. "

"You might as well narrate it first," insisted Miss Bingley, "and I'll see if it's a story I like."

Then she was not to be blamed for being "hard-hearted."

Mary smiled.

"Well then," she said without further hesitation, "our detective was invited by a friend to be a guest in an industrial town in the north. But northern towns are laborious and monotonous, and he got tired of socializing with his friends every day in less than three days."

Elizabeth laughed out loud at that, "That sounds like Mr. Sherlock Holmes, is he the prototype?"

Mary, "I haven't thought about it yet."

If it were Mr. Holmes, it wouldn't take three days at all, okay, and he wouldn't go without a case even if the Queen of England invited him.

"Since Lady Mary says she has just been inspired with a case," Mr. Bentley said kindly, "let's get right on with the case."

"That's fine."

Mary nodded and skipped straight to the prequel part.

"It started like this, when a worker approached the big-name detective. Even the knowledgeable detective couldn't help but be taken aback at the sight of the worker - he was very tall, 6.5 feet, and looked strong and scary. But he was courteous when he spoke, and his speech was decent and generous. Though plainly dressed, a man who had insight and knew how to think, he soon communicated with the detective."

"It sounds like this worker is a person of interest in the case."

"Yes."

"The worker asked if you were the famous detective. The detective admitted it," Mary paused here, scanned the crowd for listening gestures, and continued calmly, "so the worker said, well then, I'll turn myself in to you."

"What?!" Elizabeth gave a look of surprise.

"Yes, the detective was very shocked too, just like everyone else here," Mary winked wryly, "He said he had killed his mother. So the detective launched an investigation and found that the worker had quite a reputation in the town as a simple and likable young man who got along well with friends, police and military, and even his employers praised him. "

"So it sounds," interposed Mr. Darcy, "as if he had something to be ashamed of."

"Is that what you think?" Mary was thoughtful.

"Don't I?"

Elizabeth spoke up, "Since it was a man of good reputation and popularity, perhaps he, like young Geoffrey, was desperate to commit a crime, and even though he must be punished, he cannot help but attract sympathy."

"As a matter of fact, the workman's mother disappeared from the parish about a year ago," she continued, "but all evidence and indications showed that she had gone back to the country to recover, and no one at all suspected that the workman had committed the murder against his own mother. And the priest, when he learned of it, was surprised to hear the other residents of the parish lamenting the fact that, as you may have guessed, the worker's mother was a harsh and demanding person who beat and abused the worker from time to time, and not only didn't treat him as a son, but didn't even treat him as a human being - she felt that sooner or later, he was going to rape her sister, and so wanted him out of her world in every way possible. "

"That's too much!" Elizabeth was a bit intolerant.

"But even that is no reason for him to kill his mother." Mr. Darcy frowned.

"In fact he killed more than just his mother," Mary said, "six unmarried girls, from respectable young ladies down to street prostitutes, for nothing more than revenge for his mother's line, 'Sooner or later you're going to be a rapist'-- "

"God!"

Miss Bentley couldn't hear any more.

She was the one who had to hear what story Mary was trying to write, and she was the one who looked panicked. Miss Bentley stood straight up from her chair, covering her chest and hastily interrupting Mary, "What kind of horrible story is this! No one would pay to read such a novel, and it's about inferior people, they're so disgusting."

Mary: "......"

The first half of the sentence is fine with her, the second half of the sentence is a bit much to map gun an entire class, isn't it?

Mr. Darcy, who obviously did not agree with Miss Bingley's remarks about "the lower classes," was silent for a moment, and, seeing Mary's embarrassment, mistook Mary's embarrassment for his own story.

"You're very good at telling stories, miss," Darcy said bluntly, "and such an eye-catching opening."

"Thanks."

"But--"

"But I think-"

Mr. Darcy's "but" and Elizabeth's "I think" landed next in unison, and Mary inclined her head to see Elizabeth looking at Darcy with a surprised expression.

Naturally Darcy would not compete with Elizabeth, "Please."

"It is indeed fascinating," Elizabeth was no less polite, especially as it was her own sister who was telling the story, "but I think it's overly shocking, Mary, rather like claptrap. I don't read as many detective novels as you do, but personally, it's the precise observations and extraordinary intelligence of the protagonists that attracts me, not the more gruesome the murders are made."

Mary understood.

"So, Lizzie is feeling bad about the case?" She asked.

"Not only did I not want to keep listening," Elizabeth answered truthfully, "but I didn't feel very comfortable."

Sure enough.

Though Miss Bentley's intentions were bad, she was crooked enough to provide help for Mary.

Knowing that she couldn't restore the case 100% to what it was, Mary had omitted 90% of the facts.

The real Edmund Campbell, who killed his grandparents when he was fifteen years old, was sent to a mental institution as a result. He did well in the asylum and pleased everyone, but when he got out, Campbell didn't stop.

He raped and murdered six young girls and eventually killed his abusive mother.

But the case doesn't end here.

What impressed Mary most was that Edmund Campbell chose to turn himself in because the police were slow to suspect him. In prison, he was so eloquent that he bluntly retold his story to the FBI, who came to investigate and inquire.

These two FBI, is the later BAU team was founded, but also in the criminal psychology systemization of the road to add a colorful.

And this was already in 1990, a full hundred years from now.

Victorian mankind, there is no such a complex psychology, will not think of such a complex motive, criminal psychology this kind of modern criminal investigation aids, put in the nineteenth century is a little too big.

The point is, they couldn't understand the rationale for the existence of such a thing, just as they similarly couldn't understand why the author of Wuthering Heights wrote all his characters to such insane extremes.

"I know."

It still didn't seem like enough cuts had been made, and Mary would have to think about it again.

She took Elizabeth's advice with a false sense of humility, "I will revise this aspect, what is your opinion Mr. Darcy?"

Darcy bowed his head, "I agree with Miss Elizabeth's thoughts."

Elizabeth, "......"

This was exchanged for a look of surprise from Elizabeth, her gaze turned to Darcy, her bright, moving eyes touching Darcy's deep gaze, and after the four eyes met, it was Elizabeth who spoke politely, "Thank you."

Mr. Darcy moved his lips, several times about to speak, but finally gave up the idea of speaking and nodded his head to bring it up.

See, this is not quite good.

Sure enough, the power of the official match is great, the two people both tacit understanding, but also respect each other, without having to say much to naturally think together, eliminating misunderstandings and twists and turns, even if Elizabeth is not much affection for Darcy, but this brief exchange of the atmosphere has been good on the sky.

Mary saw the situation, simply can not stop the smile on her face: "Ouch, so you two think so similar ah."

Elizabeth glared at Mary, the meaning extremely obvious: less come to tease me!

Mr. Bentley, as usual, acted as Mr. Nice Guy, and seeing that none of the onlookers in the audience thought highly of Mary's story, he encouraged, "It's normal to have flaws in your first creation. You can revise it properly, miss, I do know a few publishers in London, and I can be responsible for recommending it after it's finished."

"I'll work hard on my creation then."

Mary said, solemnly putting away the paper she had been writing and drawing on.

Since Miss Bingley did not want to hear any more, there was no need for her to remain in the parlor. The two Miss Bennet's said a few more pleasantries to those present, and then prepared to rise and leave to attend to Jane in her bedroom.

After the sisters had gone out of the drawing-room, however, Mr. Bentley took occasion to pursue them.

He called politely to Mary and Elizabeth with an eager expression and care written in his eyes, "How is Miss Bennet doing?"

"Mostly better," replied Mary; "the low fever is gone, and her color is much better; I think Jane will be able to get out of bed and walk about to-morrow."

"That's good." Mr. Bingley breathed a long sigh of relief.

Elizabeth: "I think tomorrow she'll be able to come down and sit and talk to everyone."

Mr. Bentley: "That's no good! Better get well."

"Better come down and sit down," says Mary, smiling; "I think the brief is to see more of you, sir, and I expect the typhoid fever will be over in a minute!"

"It--"

Mr. Bentley, who was always gentle and decent, was made to blush by Mary's banter, and he coughed softly to hide his embarrassment, "Don't make fun of your eldest sister, young lady! I see that Miss Jane Bennet is so gentle and generous to everyone, and I am not the special one."

Mary and Elizabeth looked at each other twice at the words, and without fail, a pensive look passed over their faces.

What Elizabeth was thinking, Mary didn't know, what she was thinking was a very crucial question.

In the original story, it was because Jane was too demure and introverted, which led Mr. Bingley to believe that she had no intention of leaving Netherfield Manor at the moment of loss - of course, Mr. Darcy, who was the cause of the trouble, was briefly separated from the lovers of the "major contributor".

But now Mary won't allow anyone else to interfere with her sister's personal feelings.

It wasn't just that she didn't think Jane liked him!

Mary was struck with an idea that she thought would have an immediate effect, and would allow both of them to know each other's feelings quickly.