Who Murdered Mr Wickham

by Carol Hutchens

“Come sir,” Colonel Forester persisted, “everyone knows Wickham ruined your daughter’s reputation when he ran off with her. And he made matters even worse when their marriage was not immediate.”

  “Yes, I can see why you would think that was so,” Mr. Bennet’s calm expression remained in place, “but tell me, Colonel, are you in close acquaintance with my wife? No, well, sir, her life’s ambition is to find husbands for her daughters. Do you not think I was well pleased at news Lydia had found a husband? Believe me, sir. Wickham was charm itself, from the first moment we met.” Mr. Bennet hunched his shoulders. “How could I not like the man who granted one of my wife’s dearest wishes? As to having a reason to wish harm on Wickham, I dare say I worried about Lydia’s circumstances less than I should have. And things ended just as well, because Wickham charmed us all.”

  Colonel Fitzwilliam stepped forward. “I have observed your wife and daughters at previous social events, Mr. Bennet. Considering the deportment of your younger daughters on those occasions, I find I am quite satisfied with your response.” Colonel Fitzwilliam turned a glare on the officer still leaning over Mr. Bennet. “What say you, Colonel Forester?”

  “Very well, then,” Colonel Forester backed away and paced back and forth in front of the fireplace, “who is to be questioned next?”

  ***

  “Miss Brown,” Colonel Fitzwilliam purposely spoke in a soothing tone so as not to upset the troubled female sitting before him with swollen red eyes and pale countenance, “please accept our apologies for your inconvenience. However, we do require more details about what happened in the library if you feel able to recount your experience.”

  Miss Brown sat rigid and angled her body away from the area where Wickham’s body still lay on the rug. “I have explained to you all that I know, Colonel.” Miss Brown smothered a sniff in her handkerchief, and dabbed at tears rolling down her cheeks. “I fell asleep after Miss Bingley left—”

  “Miss Bingley? Pray tell us, more, Miss Brown. Are you saying Miss Caroline Bingley here in the library?” Colonel Forester said in a firm tone.

  “Well, yes, she was—”

  “When?” Colonel Forester demanded.

  Colonel Fitzwilliam frowned at Forester’s abrupt tone and turned to Georgiana’s companion as he said in a calm voice. “Take your time, Miss Brown. Try to recall—”

  “Oh, I could not forget such an encounter, Colonel. Miss Bingley was none too pleased with finding me in the library, and she went into great detail to tell me so.”

  Bingley winced and then gave a shrug when the colonels glanced at him, for Caroline treated the house as her own as he knew full well.

  “Why would she reprimand you, Miss Brown? What were you doing?” Colonel Forester's tone was insistent.

  Color filled Miss Brown’s cheeks. Tears dried on her cheeks as she lifted her chin to look at the colonel. “Not a thing I ought not to do, sir. Miss Georgiana gave me leave from attending the ball, as Mrs. Darcy was to be a guest. Miss Georgiana also said it would do for me to come here to search for a book to read.” Miss Brown turned to Bingley. “I hope I did not over-step my bounds, sir, but Miss Georgiana said—”

  “Not at all, Miss Brown, please accept my apologies for my sister’s misinformation.”

  “If I understand this correctly,” Colonel Forester frowned, “your mistress is a guest in this house?”

  “Yes, sir, that is true. Miss Georgiana Darcy.”

  “Have you ever been in this house before?” Colonel Forester’s frown deepened as he stared at the woman sitting primly on the edge of her chair.

  Miss Brown’s brow wrinkled as she glanced from one man to the other. “No, sir, this is our first visit to Mr. Bingley’s home.”

  “In that case, I am muddled. How did you know Miss Bingley’s identity? Perhaps it was Mr. Bingley’s wife or his other sister who spoke to you.”

  Frowning, Miss Brown glanced at Mr. Bingley before responding to the colonel. “I am familiar with Miss Bingley because she accompanied her brother and Mrs. Hurst on a visit to Pemberley.”

  “Did you encounter Miss Bingley at that time or have a disagreement with her?” Colonel Forester leaned in as if ready to attack.

  “Colonel Forester, how is this—”

  “I was merely trying to establish a reason for why Miss Bingley might react so strongly at finding Miss Brown in the library. Surely, Colonel Fitzwilliam, you find it as strange as do I that Miss Bingley should become so vexed over a woman reading a book.”

  Colonel Fitzwilliam gave a slight nod and said. “Please continue, Colonel.”

  After a pause to clear his throat, Colonel Forester resumed his questions as he loomed over the stiff-backed companion. “Why was Miss Bingley so vexed at finding you in this room, if you have never spoken to her before tonight? Did she have plans to meet someone?”

  “I would not know her plans would I? I told Miss Bingley that Miss Darcy gave me leave to look for a book.” Miss Brown’s chest heaved fast as a pigeon’s breast, “But still Miss Bingley reckoned that the working class should have no time to read and all but told me to leave.”

  “Yet you stayed in the room,” Colonel Fitzwilliam’s tone encouraged Miss Brown to continue, “even after Miss Bingley made no effort to conceal she was vexed by your presence?”

  “Indeed I did, sir.” Miss Brown turned to Mr. Bingley and rushed to add. “No offense intended to your sister, sir. But the fire was warm after getting chilled on our travels and Miss Georgiana had no need of me while she was at the ball.”

  Colonel Fitzwilliam gave a nod as he said, “Did Mr. Wickham enter the library before Miss Bingley left? Did they meet?”

  “Oh, no, sir,” Miss Brown sounded confident. “Miss Bingley left soon as she finished telling me her opinion of finding me here and then I was in the room alone.”

  “How is it that a man was killed in the same room and you know nothing about the incident, Miss Brown? Where were you sitting?” Colonel Forester’s words grew deadly quiet. “Explain how you went undetected by Wickham or the killer.”

  “I sat over there in that wing chair in the corner.” Miss Brown’s voice quivered as she turned and pointed to a chair in the far corner of the library, in the opposite the end of the room from the door.

  His face almost as red as his uniform, Colonel Forester exchanged a glance with Colonel Fitzwilliam and rolled his eyes, but said not a word more.

  Colonel Fitzwilliam turned back to Miss Brown. She looked young and vulnerable with her face swollen from crying and he disliked pressing her to speak of the events, but a murder had occurred in this room. In a soft tone, Fitzwilliam encouraged her to continue. “What happened then, Miss Brown?”

  “Well, I fell asleep, didn’t I?”

  ***

  “My nerves, oh, my poor nerves,” Mrs. Bennet gasped as she flapped a handkerchief in front of her face and glared at the men awaiting her response. “Colonel Forester, I can not think how you expect me to know who killed my poor Wickham. Colonel Fitzwilliam I know you are Darcy's cousin, but you show none of his pride. Therefore, I trust you will find the person guilty of this murder and punish him for this deed. My poor Lydia is now without a husband to take care of her.” Mrs. Bennet buried her face in the square of lace in her hand.

  Colonel Fitzwilliam managed to keep his tone calm, regardless of Darcy’s mother-in-law's raised voice, and tried again to discover if the woman knew any information that might help them identify the killer. “Do try to calm yourself, Mrs. Bennet. We must ask these questions so we can confirm your innocence and find the guilty person.”

  “If you ask me, it is Colonel Forester who should be questioned.” Mrs. Bennet sniffed and sent a look of dislike toward Lydia’s former friend. “It was he who allowed my poor Lydia to run off to Gretna Green.”

  “Believe me, madam, I knew nothing of your daughter’s plans until all was done, and, if you will recall, I sent word to your husband immediately.”

  Mrs. Bennet rolled her expres
sive eyes and tightened her lips. “I am quite certain your wife was aware of Lydia’s intentions and could have stopped her, had she tried.”

  “I assure you, Mrs. Bennet, my wife would have moved the entire regiment to prevent that elopement if she had but known of your daughter’s plans in time.”

  Bingley noted the vehement tone in Colonel Forester’s voice and exchanged a glance with Colonel Fitzwilliam. This was not what he expected. By the time Colonel Forester finished his questioning, Bingley suspected his guests and family members would be furious with him and the colonel. “Colonel Forester, I fear Mrs. Bennet is still unsettled by the night’s events. She needs to rest.”

  “Oh, my dear, Mr. Bingley, how thoughtful of you.” Mrs. Bennet turned a glare on Colonel Forester. “As for you sir, I wished no harm on my poor, dear Wickham. Can you make the same claim?”

  Colonel Forester’s glance was so grim, Bingley was certain his recruits would be shaking in their boots, but not so with Jane’s mother. Nevertheless, Bingley frowned when the colonel’s voice boomed loudly.

  “Mrs. Bennet, we have heard enough. Send in Mrs. Phillips as you leave.”

  “Why would you question my sister?” demanded Mrs. Bennet, proving she was not afraid of the colonel’s show of temper. “She barely knew dear Wickham. Sister knows nothing about his murder or she would have told me by now.”

  “Madam, that is for us to decide. Now, if you would tell her we are waiting, please.” Colonel Forester turned his back and stared into the fire.

  Mrs. Bennet cut him a glance and sniffed. “You could put a uniform on a pig, and he too would stomp on my poor nerves.” She rose and flounced to the door. “My dear, Mr. Bingley, I know not how you can stand this inquisitive behavior.”

  ***

  “Sister said you wanted to see me, Colonel, but what can I tell you?” Mrs. Phillips gasped in a breathless voice as she entered the room. “I barely knew Mr. Wickham, even though he married my dear niece. Lydia reminds me so much of her dear mother when they were of an age. Still, I am informed you wish to ask questions.”

  After a few words, the men ushered Mrs. Phillips out and called Mr. Hurst to enter. Bingley tried to conceal his consternation as Hurst stumbled into the room. “What, Wickham is dead? But I saw him in the garden, not more than an hour since.”

  “Did Wickham leave the garden before you returned, Mr. Hurst?” Colonel Forester’s tone was mild as if accustomed to dealing with men too far in their cups.

  Mr. Hurst leaned back in his chair. “Now that you make mention of it, I seem to recall I returned to the house because I was thirsty. Walking the grounds builds a need for refreshment in a man of my years, you know.”

  “What of your wife, sir?”

  “Eh? My wife? Nay, she never touches the drink. Too hoity toity if you ask me.” Mr. Hurst squinted as he recognized his brother-in-law. “Right, eh Bingley?”

  “Do you wish to remain while we question your wife, sir?”

  “What? Oh, yes. ‘Course. Bring her in.” Mr. Hurst settled in the chair and was snoring by the time Mrs. Hurst entered library and took a seat beside him.

  Bingley noted the lack of color in his sister’s face and felt a pang of sympathy for her emotional state as she sent a glance toward the muslin covering Wickham’s body.

  Mrs. Hurst angled sideways to avoid looking in that direction again and dabbed at her eyes as she aimed her questions to Colonel Fitzwilliam. “How do you expect me to help, Colonel?”

  Colonel Fitzwilliam paused, reluctant to broach the topic to one of Darcy’s frequent guests, or perhaps conscious of the fact that Mrs. Hurst’s brother was listening to questions about how she might be connected to the murdered man. Nevertheless, he stalled only for a breath before he continued. “Mrs. Hurst, how well did you know Mr. Wickham?”

  Louisa Hurst lifted her head and managed to look down her nose, even though Colonel Fitzwilliam stood over her. “I encountered Mr. Wickham at Pemberley and at socials, locally, when we were visiting my brother.”

  Colonel Forester stopped pacing and stared down at Mrs. Hurst. “You do not claim a long standing association with Mr. Wickham, such as Colonel Fitzwilliam here?”

  “Whatever are you implying, sir?” Mrs. Hurst stared at Colonel Forester with wide eyes.

  Recognizing his sister was in a temper, Bingley rushed to respond before she could vent her opinions on the unsuspecting military officers. “Colonel Forester, my sisters and I were not acquainted with Mr. Darcy as children. We have known him but a few years past.”

  “Ah, so, no long standing disagreements with Mr. Wickham in your past, Mrs. Hurst?”

  “Certainly not, sir!” Mrs. Hurst gasped, as if he had accused her of some social blunder, and cut a glance at her brother. “Bingley was always too easy-going to argue with anyone, and we were not acquainted with…Mr. Wickham.”

  The break in her voice was barely noticeable. In fact, Bingley was almost certain neither of the colonels took it for anything other than an affected speech pattern. However, Bingley knew different. He frowned as he considered reasons for his sister’s unexpected emotion.

  Not realizing anything of significance had occurred, Colonel Forester made a dismissive sound and clasped his hands behind his back as he announced in a loud voice. “Madam, you may go and take your husband with you.”

  By the time Bingley and Louisa coaxed Mr. Hurst awake and out of the room, Colonel Forester’s patience had disappeared. “This night has no end and I am certain you agree, Colonel. And another point,” Forester paced in front of the fireplace, “we have not asked one question of Mr. Bingley and yet he hears all that is said on the subject.”

  “Now see here, Colonel,” Fitzwilliam did not attempt to keep the amazement out of his voice, “Once you are around Bingley enough, you will learn he has not a mean bone in his body.”

  “Be that as it may, we should question him.”

  “A waste of time, as are most of the questions we have asked so far this night. But if you insist, then ask Bingley anything that you will.”

  “Uh, no matter. It is my belief the murderer is long gone by now. Possibly a passing highwayman, looking for easy pickings and Wickham tried to prevent his theft.”

  Colonel Fitzwilliam fought the urge to laugh. “Surely you jest, sir. I would suggest Wickham was slippery as a snake and much more likely to slither away into the night than to confront a robber.”

  “Quite right you are, Colonel. Wickham did not have the persistence to stand up for his beliefs, if he had any.”

  “Oh, he had beliefs a plenty,” Colonel Fitzwilliam snapped, “but all to do with him prospering at the expense of others, regardless of how his actions affected them.”

  “You did not think very highly of Mr. Wickham, Colonel.”

  Fitzwilliam aimed a grim glare at the colonel. “You were his commanding officer for a time, Colonel. Can you say you would give Wickham a favorable mention?”

  Silence reigned in the library for long ticks of the clock. Each man turned and stared at the body. Flames flickered in the fireplace. Fitzwilliam stared at the blaze and said. “I think we would have been better to keep this room cold, considering there is a body in here, but it is too late now.”

  “Clear vision often comes too late, Colonel.” Forester kicked at a spark that landed on the hearth. “Often it comes after it is too late to correct that which is already done. On this night, we can at least rectify this one error. When the blaze burns out, we will adjourn to another room, if you wish. Now, who is next on your list?”

  After interviewing Bingley, which Colonel Forester insisted was necessary, then Jane and the Gardiners, they learned nothing to lead them to the culprit. The Gardiners were almost as kind in nature as Mr. Bingley and much too mild mannered to harbor any ill feelings against Wickham. Even after questions about his part in arranging his niece’s wedding, Mr. Gardiner cast not one ill word against the deceased Mr. Wickham.

  “Your wife is next on the list, Colonel.”
Fitzwilliam looked at man he had only come to know this evening. Two Colonels and two men in the wrong place at the wrong time was his assumption.

  “Ah, she may be too overwrought to speak coherently for Lydia and Wickham were very dear to her.”

  His response did nothing to unsettle Fitzwilliam. In fact, as Fitzwilliam stared in the flames, he acknowledged he had anticipated such a response. In Colonel Forester’s place, he too would want to protect his wife from such gripping emotions. “Then, sir, I suggest we go over what we have learned and form a new plan.”

  Chapter 6

  Much later when the three men entered the ballroom, Colonel Fitzwilliam concealed his relief at escaping the library. He had breathed all the stench of death he could stand. Encounters with foreign forces left memories he would as soon forget, and the evening spent so near Wickham’s body brought the horrors of war to mind. Yet the environment in the ballroom, that had filled with music three hours earlier, was almost as gloomy as the scene in the library.

  Guests gathered about the room in clusters. Men sat around the card tables playing whist, or conversed with women, and all had an opinion as to who had murdered Mr. Wickham.

  Fitzwilliam and Colonel Forester planned to mingle with guests and listen for any comments that might assist in identifying the murderer. Bingley was in complete agreement with the plan as he was anxious to check on Jane.

  As the colonels approached, Caroline Bingley was quick to voice her solution to the crime, and glanced at her sister for reinforcement. But Mrs. Hurst's face twisted in anger and she refused to acknowledge them. Caroline turned back to the colonels and pointed a finger at Fitzwilliam as she said. “Colonel Forester, if you are looking for someone with a reason to murder Mr. Wickham, you need look no further than your companion.”

  Colonel Fitzwilliam sent a resigned glance across the room to where Darcy watched the encounter with an arched brow and turned back to the disgruntled sisters. One thing Fitzwilliam had confirmed during his acquaintance with Bingley’s sisters was their lack of the good nature so enjoyed by their brother. Another point was Caroline Bingley’s obsession for Darcy’s attention. Even as a poor relation, compared to Darcy’s deep pockets, Fitzwilliam had been a target for her attention, though he had noticed Caroline was more interested in Darcy’s reaction to her overtures than in his own interest in her. Yet he had endured her flirtation as they were both guests of Darcy’s and as such, Fitzwilliam did not wish to express his aversion to her actions.