Work Text:
Who knows what evil lurks in the hearts of men? The Voice knows.
The Voice, mysterious character who aids the forces of law and order, is in reality Fanny Price, independent but quiet ward of Commissioner Bertram. Years ago in the White Attic, she learned a strange and mysterious secret, the power to cloud men’s minds so they cannot see her. Never seen, only heard, as haunting to superstitious minds as a ghost, the Voice fights crime, defending the innocent, punishing the guilty. The secret of the Voice’s identity is known only to her brother and partner William Price.
* * *
When Henry Crawford entered the upstairs study at 250 Austen Place, his hands were still shaking. Things were going wrong, like they had ever since he'd arrived in Mansfield.
Charm was his stock in trade. Unhappy wives of rich men his particular prey. He'd wine and dine them, and then once he got them to a particular point, his partner Snoops Maddison would make sure there would be photographs that they would not want to get into the hands of their husbands. And after that it was just a matter of collecting whatever particular prize he'd chosen them for in the first place, all the while being able to play a fellow victim to explain why he'd disappear from their lives, keeping himself clear of suspicion. But then Janet Frazer had overdosed on a sleeping drug he'd gotten for her, and they'd needed to leave town without collecting more than a token of the money they'd planned to get.
That was why they'd moved onto Maria Rushworth so quickly without the usual preparations beyond confirming that they could go for the largest prize in their career of crime, enough to leave the country for quite some time. Oh, Maria herself had been easy enough to entice into the right position, especially since her husband was on yet another long business trip, and Snoops got the pictures they needed. But then they'd heard that John Frazer was gunning for the man he felt responsible for the death of his wife. And while looking for information, they'd kept hearing rumors of a mysterious Voice that tracked down lawbreakers, a tale which had eventually spooked Snoops so much that he started imagining he heard someone talking to him, and then yesterday morning, he was gone with no note, and more importantly without finishing his part of the job, leaving Henry to have to improvise.
Last night he'd met with Maria at a night club to show her one of the pictures he'd "received" from a crooked private eye and tell her of the man's demand for an exorbitant amount of money. She had reacted to form, but before he could nail down how the exchange of money would be handled, they'd been interrupted by a couple of her cousins, a Fanny and William Price—her, a mousy little dame who disappeared into the decor and him, a young man who looked a little too much like a greenhorn to be one, which instantly put him on his guard, though nothing they did appeared too suspicious. However their appearance put the wind up on Maria, who left with them after telling them that she'd been expecting some female friends of hers who hadn't shown. She'd just managed to whisper to him to come to her house the next afternoon before she left. There was nothing more he could do at the moment, but he had the feeling he'd need to strike hard and fast for once and then make his escape.
However, while he was making his exit arrangements, he kept having the feeling he was being watched, and he was almost sure he heard a whispering voice following him on his way back to the hotel. He shook it off and the next day had made it to the Rushworths' home an hour early, going out of his way to be sure no one was following him. Once there and sure he and Maria were alone, he'd spun his story of pressure and how they needed to pay the blackmailer off now and suggested that he could take the contents of the family safe while making it look like a burglary.
Maria had in the first shock and panic been willing to tell him where to find the combination, but then when she'd asked him what would happen once the blackmailer was paid off and he said that he would have to leave town for a while for both their sakes, something in her seemed to snap, and she flew at him, yelling that after all this he was leaving her, and that she knew he was taking the money for himself. As she hit him, he pushed her back and she fell and hit her head on the table. He started to panic, but she was breathing, and he grabbed the cords from a nearby curtain to tie her up, all the better to make it look like simple theft. Hopefully, she'd see the sense of keeping quiet once she awoke, though he planned to be out of reach by that point.
And now he stood in the study, prying open a desk drawer, blood thrumming in his ears. He'd just turned to the safe when he heard a malevolent laugh that sent a chill up his spine. He swung around, poker in hand, but saw nothing. It must have been his imagination. After doing a check of the room, he turned back to the safe. He had to hurry.
"Did you think no one would know?"
He spun back around, waving the poker. "Who's there?"
The whisper back seemed to slide around the room. "The Voice of your conscience."
"This is insane." He again looked around the room. There was nowhere to hide. "Where are you?"
"Right here with you. Always with you." The whispering voice again seemed to travel around the room, appearing to change location with each word.
It had to be a hidden speaker. But that didn't matter. He had to get away. He started backing toward the door.
"You don't think you'll escape... do you?" The Voice mocked him.
He pawed at the door which seemed to have locked behind him.
"You carry your doom with you."
He started kicking at the door
"Flora Stornaway. Janet Frazer. Maria Rushworth."
He froze again. "You don't know anything."
"I know everything." The Voice again came from all around him. "You are a thief and a murderer. And both will out."
"I'm not a murderer!" he shouted, turning back and swinging wildly trying to catch the Voice if it was there.
"Are you so sure?" the Voice asked, still swirling around him, never giving him a clue as to where it came from. "You've killed trust, you've killed faith, and you leave desperation and wreckage in your wake, without counting the cost to your victims, the ones you know and the ones you don't."
Henry stopped swinging as another sound penetrated his consciousness. The faint sound of police sirens growing louder. He turned back for the door, wrenching at it desperately, finally getting it open, only to be confronted by William Price, who punched him hard enough to knock him out. The last thing he heard before losing consciousness was the laugh of the Voice.
* * *
Thomas Bertram, police commissioner, settled down in his chair by the fire and looked over at his niece who was visiting with them while she and her aunt both worked on knitting socks for charity.
"I wish I had your brother on the police force," Uncle Thomas said, as he lit up his pipe. "He's wasted as a private detective."
"And I don't like you helping William in that business," Aunt Mavis said. "It's a dangerous job for a woman, dealing with criminals. Look at what happened to poor Maria."
"My dear, the two cases aren't exactly the same, and Fanny is William's secretary not a detective," Uncle Thomas said condescendingly. "Though perhaps she was a bit closer to danger than usual because of that scoundrel Crawford. It's fortunate that neither of our girls were seriously hurt by that madman who kept screaming about a voice haunting him when my men arrested him. I don't know what gets into the criminals in these parts. So many claim to hear a voice denouncing them, it's ridiculous."
"Well, Aunt, the work isn't that dangerous, and William needs the help. I like to think I'm doing my small part to bring justice to the world," Fanny said with a gentle smile. "And as for those claiming to hear voices denouncing them, perhaps it's their conscience finally speaking up, Uncle."
"Perhaps," Uncle Thomas told her.
Perhaps, Fanny thought. Still, sometimes it takes a little push. A wry smile crossed her face. Or a fist.
* * *
The weed of crime bears bitter fruit. Crime does not pay. The Voice knows.
The End