Who Murdered Mr Wickham

by Carol Hutchens

“You need not fear, my dear. Perhaps others are as intent on escaping prying eyes as we are.”

  “Oh, Wickham, you make our meeting sound so enticing. Though, I made several attempts before finding you alone, it is worth the effort.” Louisa gasped as his fingers traced the low neckline of her gown. His touch brought forth her groan of pleasure. “Oh, please, do not stop, I beg of you, dear sir.”

  “My dear, I am all yours for the moment and ready to follow your smallest command.”

  “Then let us be gone from this place, and find a nook for privacy, dear sir, for I wish to have you alone with no eyes prying into our activities.” Louisa covered his wandering fingers with her hand and pressed into her chest.

  “That has been my wish since I observed your arrival in the ballroom, my dear. Come, I will find us a quiet corner where we can be undisturbed while we share our hunger.” Wickham grasped her hand and led her to a secluded nook in the hedge which he had discovered earlier. Once convinced of their seclusion, he turned to take her lush curves in his embrace.

  ***

  Caroline glanced at the stairs leading up to the ballroom as she passed through the front entrance. Facing Darcy and his adoring new wife again, turned her stomach sour and made her want to delay returning to the ballroom as long as she could. Though she should have assisted Louisa in soothing Mr. Hurst’s ire, she could not bring herself to do so. She found Hurst’s desire for drink as distasteful as his behavior and wished to avoid the encounter. Thoughts of warming her cold hands by the library fire seemed a good option, before she retired to her room to repair her hair from all the snags in the bushes.

  The twigs hanging from her hair and gown were her only reward for thinking she could gain Wickham’s assistance in making Darcy regret his choice of a wife. Though Wickham had not refused her request, she could hear the hint of amusement in his voice and imagine the knowing smile on his face in response to her appeal. Yet, in her opinion, Wickham was a waste of manhood. It was a shame, actually, for he had a handsome countenance and enough charm to lure widows out of their sorrow, but his sense of privilege left him lacking.

  Still, had he been in possession of a fortune equal to that which she inherited, she could imagine trying to seek his attention. However, her father left her well situated, and Wickham possessed no funds to secure the future, to her slight regret. Perhaps it was just as well he married Lydia Bennet. She might have lowered her standards and acted drastically when Darcy spoke of Eliza's hand.

  ***

  Maggie Brown assisted Miss Georgiana Darcy with her preparations in dressing for the ball, and then was left to her own devices. Normally, she would accompany Miss Darcy to the ball, but tonight she was not needed as Mr. and Mrs. Darcy would be present. It was a relief for Maggie feared coming face to face with Mr. Wickham almost as much as she longed to see him. It was her greatest desire to converse with him in private, but not in a ballroom full of women wearing fine gowns.

  Not that she was ashamed of her status. To be perfectly honest, she was thankful for her position in service with the Darcys as Miss Georgiana Darcy’s companion. Georgiana was one of the most accommodating people she had every encountered, but Maggie had no wish to be compared with women dressed in finery the likes of Miss Darcy’s or Mr. Wickham’s quickly acquired wife.

  After Miss Georgiana left the room for the ball, Maggie straightened her belongings, then made her way down to the library. Earlier, she had secured Miss Darcy's permission, and was glad she had when she opened the library door. A warm blaze glowed in the fireplace, and Maggie soaked up the warmth, for the night was as cold as her aching heart. If only she could huddle under the covers with her cousin Mary, as they had as children, and talk over her fears. But even that comfort was denied her for Mary’s new position in society was precarious at best, and revealing their relationship could hamper Mary’s acceptance in society.

  It was true, Mary longed for recognition as the heiress she was, but her acceptance by local society meant far more than invitations to the proper socials. Establishing Mary's position in the county was important to both their futures.

  After standing in front of the fireplace until she finally felt warmed from the chilling trip to Netherfield, Maggie searched the long walls of shelves for something to read. Selecting a volume of poems, she settled in a wing chair in a distant corner so she wouldn't appear too presumptuous if any of the Bingleys' guests entered the room. She preferred reading novels. but, many older libraries in the homes they visited rarely contained the current volumes she enjoyed. Still, not all was lost, as she could share her readings with Miss Georgiana on their next walk.

  She was well into the pages of the book when the door opened, and the sound of rustling skirts approached the fireplace. Forgetting caution, as she was not a guest, Maggie peered past the wing chair and locked glances with Miss Caroline Bingley. Jumping to her feet as soon as she recognized Mr. Bingley's sister,, Maggie made a slight curtsy, “Begging your pardon, ma’am. I hope you do not mind my reading one of your volumes.”

  “Who are you?” Caroline Bingley looked down her long nose at Maggie. Then said, as if they rarely met, which was not the case at all, “Ah, yes, Miss Darcy’s companion. So you like to read, Miss –”

  “Miss Brown, ma'am. Yes, I find a good book to be relaxing.”

  “And you have nothing better to do than sit in front of the fire this night and read? I dare say Miss Darcy is too young to understand how to manage her servants.”

  “I asked Miss Darcy’s permission, ma’am, as we are away from Pemberley, and did not cart all our studies for the trip.”

  “Mm.” Miss Bingley’s glance roamed over Maggie as if she were examining something from the back of a horse, “I am certain with Miss Darcy's sweet disposition she was amenable. However, in my opinion, you should have duties to keep you occupied, but, as these books belong to my brother and Miss Darcy is his guest, I suppose you might as well make use of them. Goodness knows, I have no need to do so.” With that comment, Miss Bingley whirled on her heels and departed the room.

  Maggie slumped back down in the chair and gulped a breath to calm her shaking limbs. The likes of people such as Miss Bingley made Mary’s acceptance into society questionable. And Maggie, through no intention on her part, had almost caused a scene that could harm Mary’s chances if their connection became known. Still, Miss Bingley had given her permission, if somewhat reluctantly, for Maggie to use the library, and the night was long. So she tucked her knees in the chair under her skirts and picked up her book.

  ***

  Lydia returned to the ballroom and headed directly to her older sister. “Jane, I do hope you are not planning to lecture me as Lizzy has done.” Lydia glared at Jane as she brushed a leaf from her skirt. “Pray tell me what is wrong with asking Darcy to help Wickham? After all, Darcy is the one who ruined Wickham’s chance of claiming the living he was promised by old Mr. Darcy.”

  “Lydia, please. Perhaps you are not in possession of all the details.”

  “I know what my husband has told me. Old Mr. Darcy promised him a living—”

  “As a clergyman, Lydia. A position similar to the one our cousin, Mr. Collins, holds,” Jane kept her tone low, but firm. “Can you imagine Wickham being happy in such a role?”

  “Oh, my word,” Lydia burst into a fit of giggles. “Was old-man Darcy out of his gourd? Even on his best days, Wickham does not have the temperament of a clergyman.”

  “Then you should understand why Mr. Darcy withdrew his support—”

  “I certainly cannot. Surely a man of Darcy’s position, and deep pockets, could find something for—”

  “Lydia, my dearest girl,” Mrs. Bennet called from a short distance away, “come and talk with me and your Aunt Gardiner. We have not seen you for so long.”

  “Oh, Mamma,” Lydia glanced at the couples stepping to the music and turned back, “I want to dance and have fun. Talking is for old women.” Lydia whirled to stare at the dance floor. “Now, where is
Denny? I cannot see Carter or Wickham, either.” Lydia added her husband’s name almost as an afterthought.

  Jane and Mrs. Gardiner exchanged glances.

  “But, my dearest girl, we will have no time to visit, if you dance. Come tell me about your life up north.” Mrs. Bennet coaxed her youngest child to her side. “Sit and tell me how much you like being married to dear Wickham.”

  Mrs. Gardiner left her chair and moved to Jane’s side. “My dear, I fear the shine has left Lydia’s interest in her husband. How long do you think it will take her to accept that she cannot throw a husband away like an old toy?”

  “Oh, Aunt Gardiner, I do so fear for her future.”

  “Do not waste your time and good humor, my dear. Lydia is one of those people who always land on a soft cushion. Has not Mr. Wickham avoided all his past responsibilities? And he will continue to do so in the future, or I miss my guess.”

  “But to live with so little expectation of life seems such a waste—”

  “It is said that a life without hope—”

  “Oh, Mary, dear, do come tell me about what you are reading now.” Aunt Gardiner said as she steered Mary toward the waiting chairs.

  ***

  Captain Carter paused as he and Miss King entered the front door and glanced down the hall to see Caroline Bingley come out of the library and head toward the stairs. Glad they had no reason to interrupt their moments alone, he turned back to his companion. “Miss King, I thoroughly enjoyed our encounter in the garden. May I secure a dance before your card is filled?”

  “Indeed you may, Captain Carter, for I, too, enjoyed our conversation.” Miss King paused and lifted her chin to look in his face. Candle light from the chandelier overhead revealed a determined sparkle in her eyes. “I hope we can meet again while you are in the neighborhood.”

  “It would be my pleasure.” Carter turned toward the stairs, reluctant to end their time alone, but elated that she had spoken so openly. Rarely had he felt as much at ease in female company as he did with Miss King. Yet he had heard from local gossip about the fortune she had inherited. Could she be unspoiled by the event because, like him, she had not had the advantages of some of the guests at this ball? Regardless, he hoped to pursue the enjoyment they had shared and see what occurred.

  As they entered the ballroom, Lydia pranced over, and stopped in front of them, with a pout on her face. “Carter, where have you been? I haven’t had a chance to converse with you since we arrived, and I have so missed your company. You must move north to join Wickham’s new regiment. Then we can have fun as we used to.”

  “Mrs. Wickham—”

  “Carter, do stop that nonsense. You always called me Lydia. Why change when we are such friends?”

  “Very well. Lydia, do you remember Miss King?”

  Forced to acknowledge the woman at Carter’s side, Lydia’s smiling expression transformed into a frown. “Of course I remember Miss King. She distracted my Wickham’s affections from my sister Lizzy last time she visited the area.” Lydia tossed her head and sniffed. “I suppose I should thank you, Miss King. If you had not interfered, my sister might be married to my husband.” Lydia collapsed in a fit of giggles. “How droll that sounds. Can you imagine how miserable Wickham would be if he were married to Lizzy.”

  “Then perhaps we are all fortunate with the way things worked out for everyone.” Mary King replied in an even tone. “If you—”

  “Especially you, Miss King, since everyone knows that Wickham was interested in you only because of your fortune.”

  “Lydia—”

  “Do stop worrying, Carter, for Miss King knows I speak the truth, do you not, Miss King?” Without waiting for a response, Lydia continued. “And you are still searching for a husband, I see.” Lydia eyed the hand Mary still rested on Carter’s arm. “Do you suppose there is some quality you lack, even with your vast source of inherited funds?” Not pausing for breath, Lydia turned to Carter, “Have you seen Denny? I am dying to dance.”

  “Perhaps Captain Carter will oblige you.” Mary King withdrew her hand from the strong arm at her side and kept her tone even, while refusing to look for the captain’s reaction to her words. Lydia Wickham’s attitude reflected the adversity she faced for wanting to join polite society in this county. Perhaps she should move away and start a life somewhere far from Hertfordshire.

  Yet she could not Mary acknowledged to herself as Lydia latched onto Captain Carter’s arm and tugged him toward the dance floor. Her cousin could not leave the respectable position she now held because of her personal obligations, and Mary would not leave Maggie to face her future alone. She had offered Maggie a home, but her cousin insisted they would become targets for gossip if any word was discovered of their connection. Mary accepted Maggie’s opinion for she knew her cousin was correct. They were bound by mores that examined a single female’s actions with close scrutiny, and observers were only satisfied when they dragged out some matter worthy of the local gossips.

  She and Maggie must bide their time until such occasion as she was accepted in the social status she desired, then she would assist Maggie. Keeping apart until that time was their only option. Maggie insisted this was necessary. She had no wish to bring unwanted censure upon Mary’s actions as they were close as sisters.

  For her part, Mary would not rest until she could improve Maggie’s lot in life. When she considered of how close she had come to the same fate as her dear cousin, Mary shuddered. It was difficult to believe they were both attracted to the same man. The fact that he had almost destroyed Maggie’s life was unthinkable.

  “Ah, Miss King, at last I have found you alone,” Jane Bingley said as she arrived at Mary’s side. “I am so happy you came to our ball this evening. Are you returned to the area to stay?”

  “I am currently visiting Lucas Lodge.” Mary said as she blinked her astonishment at the contrast between the two sisters. Jane Bingley was soft spoken and kindness itself. Yet, only minutes earlier, her youngest sister had lashed out at Mary with no provocation other than the fact that Wickham had once favored Mary with his attentions. “But I want to thank you for the kind invitation, Mrs. Bingley. I am happy to be here.”

  “Please, you must call me Jane, Miss King, for I hope that we can be friends.”

  “Friends?” Caroline Bingley scoffed, pausing as she passed them. “Really, Jane, there is no such thing as friendship between ladies of a similar age, for they all want to attract the attention of the single males in their company. Do you not agree, Miss King?”

  Mary King studied Caroline’s smooth hair and careful grooming. Miss Bingley must have taken a circuitous route by her room before returning to the ball, for Mary had seen her leave the library looking ruffled and wearing sprigs of the hedge in the garden.

  “I agree there is competition among females of a marriageable age, but how can it not exist?” Mary replied, with a determined tilt of her chin. “With so many young men serving in the militia, the chances of finding a proper match are greatly diminished. However, as Mrs. Bingley is in possession of a husband, I feel forming a friendship with her is quite possible.”

  Jane smiled warmly at Mary and turned to her sister-in-law. “As you can witness, Caroline, not all females feel the need to compete.”

  “So you say, Jane,” Caroline cast a glance around at the guests, “but I do not believe your observation to be truthful, and I have my own sister as proof. Ah, there she is now, though she appears to be wearing some sort of twig arrangement in her hair. I must see if I can be of assistance.”

  Mary King’s glance followed Caroline’s tall, elegant figure as she strolled across the room toward her sister. “I fear I will never measure up to the expectations of some people in this county.”

  “Have no worry, Miss King, for I share similar feelings.” Jane smiled as Mary King sent a startled glance in her direction. “I have discovered that marriage does not bridge all gaps. My upbringing in this county is a point my husband’s sisters object to, b
ut I hope I shall win them over with time.”

  “I do so admire your confidence, Mrs. Bingley.”

  Jane smiled. “It is not confidence, Miss King, but desperation. For I am determined to be a wife of which Mr. Bingley can be proud, therefore, I must make a good impression on his sisters.”

  “How can you, when they act so superior—”

  “It is only their upbringing, Miss King. If you and I had been raised with riches, I am certain we would act as Bingley’s sisters do and look down our noses at all who dare to grace our presence.”

  Jane and Mary exchanged glances and then burst out laughing.

  Mary sobered first. “You would never act in such a way, Mrs. Bingley. I have known you but a short while, yet I am certain you would never belittle even the poorest acquaintance.”

  Jane’s smile reflected her pleasure at the kind words. “I believe we are bound to be friends, Miss King. Do say you feel the same, for I miss my sister, Lizzy, now that she has married and moved away. I could well do with a local companion.”

  Mary King met Jane’s gaze earnestly, “I do so hope I will be in the area long enough to become better acquainted with you, Mrs. Bingley.”

  “Are you thinking of leaving, Miss King?”

  “I would if I were free—”

  “Please, do consider that attitudes can change, Miss King. Pray give us a chance to prove we are not all so full of ourselves that we can ignore new acquaintances. I fear I shall despair of my own lot, if you believe such past behaviors to be a measure of our society.”

  “How can that be, Mrs. Bingley, for you were raised in this county and are accepted by all.”

  “Before my marriage, that was true, Miss King. Nevertheless, now I find I face the same issues as you do. As Bingley’s new wife, I must start afresh, for my husband’s associates do not hold me in the same regard as those whom I have known all my life. Yet it is my greatest wish to earn their good opinion for my dear Bingley’s sake, as well as my own.”

  “I desire the same acceptance, Mrs. Bingley—”