Who Murdered Mr Wickham

by Carol Hutchens

  “You seem very certain of that fact, my dear.”

  “Oh,” Mrs. Forester turned a heated gaze on him, “is that not what you whisper in the dark, husband? Are we not still playing a game?”

  “Perhaps you have not heard that Miss King inherited a fortune? Why go for a wastrel such as Wickham, when she could choose a man more worthy of her attention?”

  “Oh, really, husband. You speak as if she were someone to admire.” Mrs. Forester sniffed as she peered at him. “Did you not notice Wickham's countenance, or the length of his leg, and the charm he practiced so well? I for one, sir, would say Wickham was far from being the wastrel you describe.”

  ***

  “My dear, Miss King,” Lady Lucas spoke in a low voice so as to not be overheard, “have you noticed the Foresters seem to find your presence uncommonly fascinating?”

  “Indeed, I have made note of their interest, Lady Lucas.” Mary cast a casual glance to the other side of the room, in the couple’s direction, and saw that both the Foresters had their gazes locked on her person. “It seems quite unusual—”

  “It is but fact, my dear, for I have been aware of their interest for some minutes past, and I can not help but wonder why.” Lady Lucas turned to her youngest houseguest, “Indeed, it seems odd as you are all guests at Lucas Lodge. Have you not engaged the Foresters in conversation this eve, my dear? Could that be the cause of their attention?”

  Mary pretended interest in the cup in her hand and tried to keep a tide of color from rising to her face. Indeed, red hair was no handicap in her estimation, but the burden of the fairnee of skin accompanying her coloring was hard to deal with at times such as this when she needed to keep her thoughts secret. “I confess, I have not exchanged pleasantries with Mrs. Forester, ma’am.”

  “No matter, my dear.” Lady Lucas lowered her voice and cast a glance in Mrs. Forester's direction. “If you were of the opposite gender and blessed with a good countenance, I dare say you would have ample opportunity to speak to the lady.”

  A gurgle of laughter caught in Mary King’s throat. On a night of such disastrous events, it would not do to appear merry, but Lady Lucas had cast Mrs. Forester’s character in such correct detail, Mary found it difficult to contain her mirth. “How you do go on, Lady Lucas. Yet casting humor aside, do you not think we are being somewhat unkind to speak of Mrs. Forester in such terms?”

  “Not at all, my dear,” Lady Lucas said as she warmed to her topic. “I have it on good authority that young Mrs. Forester was so eager to improve her status in life as to accept the offer from Colonel Forester, a man years her senior, when her heart belonged to a local young man in her county.”

  “But marrying to benefit her status in life does not condemn her to ridicule, surely.” Mary glanced around the room. “I can observe couples who give evidence of such matches in this room alone.”

  Lady Lucas followed Mary’s gaze as she glanced toward the group surrounding Lydia Wickham. “I can see where your thoughts are aimed, Miss King, but rest assured, the elder Bennet daughters were nothing if not ladylike in their actions, regardless of their younger sister’s behavior or their mother’s. Pray do not misunderstand me, for Mrs. Bennet is a special friend of mine. After all, they are s leading family in the county and Sir William and I are quite fond of them. Not for one anything would I compare Jane or Lizzy with Mrs. Forester.”

  “Ah, Mrs. Forester,” Mrs. Phillips said as she appeared beside Mary. “What was that you were saying, Lady Lucas, for all the room is chattering of Mrs. Forester’s actions on this eve. What have you to add?”

  “Really, Mrs. Phillips,” Lady Lucas said as she sent Mary a sidelong glance. “I was only saying to Miss King that Colonel and Mrs. Forester are staying with us at Lucas Lodge because they were such favorites of Sir William’s when the militia was stationed locally. But pray, do tell us all you have heard.”

  “Um,” Mrs. Phillips examined each of them with an intense gaze before continuing, “yes, so I seem to recall. In those days, between Lydia and Mrs. Forester, no social event was lacking laughter. I know this to be true from my own social.”

  “Yes, of course, Mrs. Phillips, but do tell us the latest news.” Lady Lucas leveled a gaze on the woman. “For you must have heard details from your dear nieces.”

  “Well,” Mrs. Phillips leaned close and lowered her voice, “it has been observed by several guests that Mrs. Forester had two assignations on her recent visit to the garden—”

  “No!” Lady Lucas managed a look of surprise, despite the words she shared with Mary earlier. “You cannot be serious.”

  “And neither was with her husband.” Mrs. Phillips concluded with a satisfied expression on her face.

  Mary swallowed the lump in her throat as she observed her companions. This was how easy it was to assassinate a person’s character. “Perhaps Mrs. Forester was only greeting acquaintances on her walk about the grounds as she went searching for her husband.”

  Lady Lucas and Mrs. Phillips turned to stare at Mary.

  “My dear Miss King,” Mrs. Phillips rushed to speak, “your response is much kinder than I was lead to believe what was expected of you. Yet I fear I must prove you wrong for Colonel Forester left the ball after his wife did so, but before two other men who also followed her from the room. And,” Mrs. Phillips paused, though she looked ready to burst as she whispered, “she was observed hiding in the bushes with another man when Colonel Forester passed close by.”

  “Oh, do tell, us more Mrs. Phillips,” Lady Lucas exclaimed, “for I have so missed womanly conversation since my dear Charlotte married and removed from Lucas Lodge. Though Charlotte was not the best person to converse with on such topics, I must admit. She would much rather conduct a discourse on some book she was reading, and though Sir William is quite vocal, he does not speak of such events that interest a woman. I believe men do not see the importance of noting the exact actions of a person’s behavior.”

  Mary lifted her cup to cover the smile trying to break from her lips. Sir William would prattle about on any topic, but as his wife affirmed, he was not a gossip. Indeed, he was often so busy talking he took no notice of his surroundings, and these women were alert to the actions of everyone around them.

  “Perhaps the gentlemen have more important issues to discuss than whether someone is wearing the latest fashion.” Noting the frowns greeting her statement, Mary quickly added, “But I dare say, women would suffer without such details and where would fashionable society be without adoring followers?”

  “You are so astute, Miss King,” Mrs. Phillips studied Mary with an exacting eye as if to determine if she were being made a mockery of, or if indeed, Mary actually meant the words she spoke. “I cannot think why my nieces chose not to spend more time with you. Perhaps, now that my dear Jane has returned to the county, that situation will change.”

  Mrs. Phillips’ words fostered hope in Mary’s heart, but she dared not show how much she wanted such connections. “You are too kind, Mrs. Phillips—”

  “And not at all forthcoming for one with so much news to share,” Lady Lucas added with barely concealed frustration at the interruption in their topic. “Now, Mrs. Phillips, what have you to tell us about Mr. Wickham’s murder?”

  “Well, since you asked,” Mrs. Phillips said as she glanced around to make certain no one was listening. “I should not speak ill of the dead, but there is a search for Wickham's killer, so I will repeat what I have heard. Some of the guests think perhaps Mrs. Forester intended to meet Mr. Wickham in the garden.”

  “No!” Lady Lucas sounded aghast.

  “Why would anyone think such a thing? Mrs. Forester is a married woman, with a husband in the militia.” Mary kept her voice low, though she knew full well why people might make such assumptions. When she was once the focus of Mr. Wickham’s attention, he often suggested they should stroll in the garden. On those occasions, he seemed more interested in things other than good conversation, much to her regret.

&n
bsp; “Well, few people know this,” Mrs. Phillips lowered her voice to a near whisper, “but when the regiment was located here in Meryton, Mrs. Forester and Mr. Wickham were quite friendly. That was before he turned his attention to my niece, Lydia, of course.”

  “Of course, Mrs. Phillips,” Lady Lucas nodded in quick agreement, “for who could believe Mr. Wickham would look at another once his interest was fixed.”

  Mary swallowed the gasp trying to erupt from her mouth and tried to conceal her disbelief from her companions. Indeed, had Wickham not switched his attentions from Miss Elizabeth Bennet to Mary as soon as news of her inheritance was public knowledge? With that fact in mind, Mary could well believe Wickham turned his attentions from his wife to another woman.

  ***

  Denny backed away as Lydia’s family gathered close to offer comfort, and went to join Captain Carter at the refreshment table. “I noticed you strolled in the garden with the comely little red-head.”

  “Get that condescending tone out of your voice, Denny, and use your good sense.” Captain Carter surveyed the space around them for anyone listening. “There will be questions about Wickham’s murder, you can be sure.”

  “I am aware of that, Carter.” Denny filled a cup with punch and took a long gulp. “But why should I be concerned?”

  “Where is your head, Denny,” Captain Carter said as he straightened to his full height. “It will not take long for someone to discover you argument with Wickham.”

  “Wickham owed me more than I can spare, as he did you and half of our regiment.”

  “Even so, we are the only two of his friends here and likely to be accused of the murder. And you forget the little matter of his affair with your sister.”

  “Do not mention Peg’s name in the same breath as Wickham’s,” Denny faced off against Carter, illustrating the disadvantage of his shorter height and ill temper, “if you are my friend.”

  “That I am as you well know, but how long do you expect it will take the colonels to discover you are now enjoying Wickham’s former lover?”

  Denny set his cup on the table with a loud clatter. Shoulders squared, fists clenched, he faced Carter. “You are in no position to mention his attachments, after your recent walk in the garden with the lovely Miss King.”

  Carter clenched his teeth as he glared down at his friend. “Do not ever refer to Miss King in that manner again, Denny, or I might not be responsible for my actions.”

  Denny’s shoulders slumped. A shadow of his usual grin stretched the corners of his mouth. “Correct, as usual, Carter. I apologize for my loose tongue. Miss King has done nothing to earn my careless remarks. If anything, she showed remarkably good judgment by giving Wickham the boot when he cast his attentions towards her. It does me no credit to admit I am consumed with wanting for his other interest, yet she is here in the same room, and I must not go near her.”

  “Can you not see this puts you in danger of being accused of this murder?” Carter shook his head, and slowly refilled his cup. “I am concerned for your best interest, my friend. That is all.”

  “Wickham owed you funds, as well. You were even in the garden tonight, as was I.” Denny paced away a step and turned back. “You, too, were in the company of another female Wickham favored. How am I in any more risk of being blamed than you?”

  “Your recent confrontation with Wickham will come to light, and there is the matter of your insistence on pursuing the woman he went out to the garden to meet.”

  “How can you know this?” Denny lost his attempt at recovering his good humor. “Perhaps their meeting was unexpected. Or have you even considered she might have arranged to meet me.”

  “Ah, and perhaps, suddenly, I have pockets as deep Mr. Darcy’s.” Carter exclaimed. “Use your good sense, my friend. Wickham left the ballroom without his wife in tow. You know what that means, for you are as aware of his ways, as am I. Perhaps even more so, as you were once inseparable companions.”

  “That was before—”

  “He tried to seduce your sister?”

  “Leave Peg out of this.” Denny struggled to unclench his teeth and ease the tension from his fists. “The incident with my sister was settled. Any issue I had with Wickham was over the debt owed me—”

  “My point, exactly,” Carter said as he refilled his punch cup. “Even without your current complications, past events could complicate your efforts at proving your innocence.” Carter took a long drink from his cup.

  Denny picked up his discarded cup. He gazed about the room, though he was careful not to focus on the face of the woman pulling at his heartstrings. If word of their connection reached his superiors, all would indeed be lost. “I do believe you are correct as usual, Captain Carter.”

  That Denny used his rank alerted Carter to his friend's troubled thoughts. “I am sorry about Wickham’s demise, but ’tis even more regrettable that we happen to be in the county when his death occurred.”

  Chapter 7

  Colonel Fitzwilliam mixed with the guests, standing in groups discussing the murder, but heard no hints to assist with solving the crime. He was so intent on his self-assigned endeavor to discover information, he even joined the group surrounding Sir William. Fitzwilliam, like Sir William's captive audience, hoped to learn new information. Standing with his back stiff, his reserved patience in full force, Fitzwilliam soon realized the mild-mannered magistrate was entertaining his audience with long-winded descriptions of the same topic, repeatedly.

  Finally, when he could keep his expression blank for not a minute longer, Fitzwilliam move to speak a few words with the grieving widow, after which, he approached his host. “Bingley, I have mingled among the guests, and from the comments I overheard, I concerned that recent events have put you in a most difficult position. I think I speak for Colonel Forester, as well as myself, when I say everyone would understand if you are inclined to forego the remaining investigation into this matter.”

  “Why would Bingley withdraw his assistance, Colonel?” Jane examined her guest with intense interest. In any group of men, Colonel Fitzwilliam would claim notice, even without his known connection to Mr. Darcy. In the encounters she and Bingley had had with him, since Mr. Darcy and Lizzy had become a couple, Colonel Fitzwilliam had earned her approval with his calm manner and commendable behavior. She was relieved Colonel Fitzwilliam was on hand to take charge after this tragic event.

  In fact, considering her good opinion of him, perhaps she should regard him as a possible match for one of her...but no. The idea of contriving a match between this competent officer and one of her sisters was not possible. There was Caroline, however. And considering the colonel's blunt suggestion that Bingley bow out of the investigation, he seemed a perfect match for her sister-in-law. Curbing her flare of emotions with her usual calm demeanor, Jane keep her tone firm. “After all, Colonel, this is Bingley’s home.”

  “I beg your pardon, Mrs. Bingley—”

  “My dear, Jane,” Bingley touched her arm, “I believe you misunderstood. For I am quite certain Colonel Fitzwilliam spoke only out of kindness.”

  “Just so, Bingley,” Colonel Fitzwilliam said as he acknowledged Bingley with a nod. “As several of your family members were mentioned in an unfavorable light, I thought it prudent to offer you the choice before resuming our examination.”

  “Pray tell me, Colonel, what member of my family is accused of this murder?” Jane’s low tone did not reveal her roiling emotions, but her insistence left no doubt of her interest. “I must ask that you explain.”

  “Jane, my dear,” Bingley began in a soothing tone, “do not—”

  “No, Bingley, your wife is correct in calling me to task as I mentioned the subject in her presence.” Colonel Fitzwilliam turned his full attention to Jane. “Mrs. Bingley, I assure you the utmost care will be given to our efforts to reveal the truth of this matter. You must expect some unpleasant questions to be asked, but please, do not overly concern yourself.”

  “You avoided my q
uestion, Colonel Fitzwilliam. And with charming manners, I might add, but I must ask again. Which members of my family do you hold as suspect?”

  “Everyone at this ball is being questioned, Mrs. Bingley.”

  “That is not an answer I can accept, Colonel.”

  “Jane, my dear—”

  “No, Bingley, your wife has a right to inquire about what happens in her home. Perhaps the two of you have not had time speak and you have not informed your wife of our investigation. For that omission, I beg your pardon, Mrs. Bingley. Now I will beg my leave, so Bingley may tell you of recent events.” Colonel Fitzwilliam bowed and walked away at a swift pace.

  Jane turned a worried gaze on her beloved. “Pray tell me, Charles, what ever did the colonel mean?”

  Bingley looked lovingly into her wide eyes and wished for privacy to sooth her fears, for her use of his given name in public revealed to him how worried she was more than words could have done. “Let us stroll to the refreshment table, my dear.”

  “Oh, I could not swallow a drop.” Jane sent an anguished glance toward Lydia, now sitting in a chair with her face crumpled. Their mother stood over her, flapping her hands as fast as her lips moved. “I could not consume a bite of anything.”

  “You are the hostess, my dear. Surely it is appropriate for you to check that the needs of your guests are being met.” Bingley took hold of her arm as he glanced toward her family. “The distance will give us a chance to speak without anyone hearing our words.”

  More precisely, he wished to move away from Mrs. Bennet. For he had yet to witness her speak in other than the piercing tone echoing in his head at present. Moreover, she reacted to all that she heard by blurting the first words to enter her head. His words on conversations in the library were for Jane’s ears alone, so he urged her forward. After a deep sigh, Jane complied, and they moved toward the long tables at the back of the room.