Who Murdered Mr Wickham

by Carol Hutchens

  “Calm yourself, my dear.” Colonel Forester implored as she blinked tears from her eyes. In an exasperated tone, showing his need to regain her good nature, he added. “Lydia is not the one I suspect most.”

  “Oh, do tell me who it is, husband.” Mrs. Forester latched a hand on his arm and stared devotedly into his eyes. It was one of her favorite habits and always won his favor. “Who do you think is guilty?”

  “You must not say a word, wife.”

  “Of course I will not. But just think of the help I can be to you. While you are out asking questions, I can watch all the people you suspect.” She wheedled in the little girl voice that he favored.

  “Umm, that might be helpful, actually.” Colonel Forester paused to glance around the room. “My top three suspects are Mrs. Darcy, Miss King and of course, Lydia.”

  Mrs. Forester gasped. “Mrs. Darcy!” She convulsed in a fit of giggles. “Oh, how droll that is, husband. Lydia’s own sister. Oh my—”

  “You must not speak the names aloud, my dear.”

  “Of course not, husband.” Mrs. Forester attempted to regain control of her laughter. “Now eat, for you will need your strength my colonel.”

  “I should hope so, my dear,” Colonel Forester murmured as his gaze caressed her face, “and soon.”

  Coloring prettily under his warm gaze, Mrs. Forester tossed curls that started the evening in an artful arrangement and squeezed his arm. “Now, husband...Oh, Denny, do join us.”

  “Denny,” Colonel Forester said as he turned to the younger man with a questioning glance. “Are you standing strong? I recall that you and Wickham were close.”

  Chapter 12

  “Fitz, what is this madness,” Mr. Darcy demanded as he turned to his cousin.

  “Ah, so you heard Bingley’s account to his wife about our problem?” Colonel Fitzwilliam showed no surprise at the question. That he expected as much was the reason he stopped to speak to Will on his way back to the library. “I am certain Bingley relayed an accurate account. Forester seems convinced Miss King or your wife committed the crime.”

  “Lizzy could no more murder a man than could I.”

  “The investigation is not over. I have every confidence we will uncover a hint to steer us in the right direction. I have no expectation it will concern Lizzy.”

  “Your opinion means a great deal to me, Fitz, but what of Forester? He is outspoken and domineering—”

  “Qualities of a true commanding officer—”

  “That may well be, but this is not the militia. My wife’s character will suffer from Forester's insinuations even though she is not guilty. What matter of man is he to focus his attention on Lizzy?”

  Fitzwilliam shook his head. “Bingley and I are in agreement with you on that score, but Forester is convinced this was a crime of passion, and he believes Wickham broke Lizzy’s heart.”

  “What utter nonsense—”

  “I must depart. Forester is standing in the door, motioning for me.” As he walked away, Fitzwilliam realized he had not broached the second point of his concern with Darcy. And that worry was the source of his unrest as he followed Forester down the stairs to the library.

  As they descended the stairs, Fitzwilliam heard the groans of activity coming from the kitchen, as if the house were just awakening for the day. Yet that was not true on this morn. Neither guests nor staff had been to bed since the discovery of Wickham’s body.

  Another of his senses kicked into alert. The closer they came to the first floor, the stronger the scent of cooking grew. Usually, the aroma of cooked pork stimulated his hunger, but unlike other occasions when he had been up all night, on this day the odor of greasy food added to the weight of the murder on his mind and his stomach churned.

  ***

  As Mary King stood a few paces away, in a group of women, with Lady Lucas, she overheard the conversation between Colonel Fitzwilliam and Mr. Darcy. The mention of her name caused unrest to choke air from her lungs. She was certain she was on Colonel Forester’s list because of blame voiced by Lydia Wickham's hysterics upon hearing of her husband’s death. Had those men not considered Lydia’s state of mind at the time?

  Mary glanced at Wickham’s widow, confirming that Lydia seemed quite content to bask in the attention bestowed on her, at present. Still, Mary was not convinced that Lydia’s calm manner would last if she tried to speak with her. All evening, Mary had tried to stand near the group around Lydia, waiting for a chance to offer her condolences, even though, experience warned her to stay far away from Lydia Wickham.

  The situation left Mary with only one option. She information to remove suspicion from her name. Therefore, she must speak with someone who had reason to feel bitter toward Lydia, but who? Obviously, the local residents would not give forth any damaging comments. Lydia was one of their own and had been robbed of her young husband. This meant Mary would learn nothing from most of the guests.

  Mary gazed about the room, mentally compiling a list of possibilities. Mrs. Gardiner, one of the most pleasant women Mary had ever met, was Lydia’s aunt. Mrs. Phillips was also an aunt and, far from being as good-natured as Mrs. Gardiner, but though she had softened some during the long night, that lady made no effort to hide her impression of Mary.

  Since none of the Bennets was unlikely to give her the information she needed, Mary considered speaking to the Darcys. Yet, she was reluctant to approach Mr. Darcy as his wife was Lydia’s sister. That left Georgiana Darcy, and while Mary had made amiable conversation with Miss Darcy when trying to get close to comfort Maggie, she doubted Miss Darcy knew little, if anything, of Lydia’s actions.

  Mary tried to stifle her growing unease as she searched faces of guests in hopes of inspiration. She needed to speak with someone local. Someone who might disapprove of Lydia. Mr. Bingley’s sisters came into view and Mary paused. Did she dare approach them? Caroline Bingley seemed more vocal, though both of Mr. Bingley’s sisters seemed ready to pass judgment on anyone beneath their gaze. This observance caused Mary to contemplate how someone as pleasant as Mr. Bingley could have sisters with such good opinions of themselves. Still, she might use their distaste of local society to her advantage, so she must attempt to engage in conversation with Caroline Bingley. However, she was not eager to attract their scorn upon her person at present.

  A burst of laughter drew her gaze toward Lydia. As Mary viewed the group around Lydia, she caught the disapproving glances Lady Lucas sent in Lydia’s direction. Ah, now there was a possibility. Mary recalled earlier comments from her visits to Lucas Lodge. Lady Lucas, despite her friendship with Mrs. Bennet, made no secret of her dismay that the Bennet sisters attracted the attention of eligible bachelors in the county, while her daughter failed to do so. Even the sudden marriage of her eldest Lucas daughter had not softened Lady Lucas' opinion of the Bennet sisters.

  Yet, Lady Lucas was her host, and Mary was reluctant to mention any topic that might create tension. She needed Sir William and Lady Lucas’s approval to establish her acceptance in the county. They had shown nothing but kindness to her, making her reluctant to risk the loss of their good will. They were good hearted and generous to her as well as the officers currently staying at Lucas Lodge.

  Thinking of officers startled a gasp from Mary’s lips. Why had she not realized sooner? She knew the perfect person to ask about Lydia Wickham. A fellow houseguest at Lucas Lodge and one she had not considered, until now. Most likely, she overlooked Mrs. Forester because she did little to encourage friendship with other females, while basking in the attention of the young officers also staying at the Lodge.

  Mary tilted her chin. She had more to worry about than Mrs. Forester’s preference for male companionship. Actually, Mrs. Forester’s preference of companionship might work in Mary’s favor. Deciding to act before she could change her mind, Mary murmured an excuse to the group. But the women around Lady Lucas were so busy chatting, they hardly noticed as she left to seek out Mrs. Forester.

  And what Mary found
was much as she expected., Mrs. Forester was huddled in a quiet corner with Denny. Though Mary admitted Mrs. Forester’s actions were not surprising. After all, perhaps she and Denny were more comfortable in each other’s company than with local guests. Conversing with those of whom you knew little was a manageable feat at a ball, but much more difficult after long hours with no dancing. However, it appeared to be no hardship for Mrs. Forester and her companion to carry on a conversation. Mrs. Forester leaned close to chat and her features glowed with warmth, hinting at a close association between the two or too many trips to the punch bowl.

  Perhaps even both possibilities were correct, though Mary recalled other occasions when she had observed the two of them in easy conversation. Pausing in mid-step to consider her options, Mary glanced back at the group of women standing near the young widow that she had just left. Yet it was the frown on Lydia Wickham’s face that captured her attention, for Lydia was staring at Denny and her former friend. At least Mary assumed they were estranged, given Lydia’s comments to Mrs. Forester when she learned of Wickham’s death.

  Lydia had spared no one when her accusations erupted. The Foresters were targets of Lydia’s ill temper the same as Mrs. Darcy and Mary were. For that reason, Mary decided to act on her earlier suspicions and continued her approach toward the couple in the corner.

  “Mrs. Forester, Denny, I trust you are recovering from the shock, as Mr. Wickham was a good friend to you both.”

  After exchanging a glance with the woman at his side, Denny stepped back and said. “Ah, Miss King, indeed we are attempting to grasp the situation. I was inquiring if Mrs. Forester would care for coffee to restore her calm. I believe the brew has been refilled for the aroma is strong and the night has been long.”

  “Indeed it has. I have danced many a night until dawn, but I declare this night more exhausting than all those events pinned together.” Mrs. Forester announced as she smiled at Denny. “Do fetch coffee for us, Denny for I am quite certain Miss King also suffered a loss with Wickham's death and craves a sip of the restorative brew as much as I do.”

  “Coffee sounds agreeable if you can manage three cups.” Mary smiled at Denny, unable to contain her delight at having a chance to speak to Mrs. Forester alone. As Denny walked away she said, “Such pleasant manners, do you not agree, Mrs. Forester?”

  “Oh, my yes,” Mrs. Forester twitched at her skirts as she sat down in a chair pushed against the wall, “without Denny and Captain Carter’s company this eve, I am not certain what I would do. They are a great distraction in Brighton, as well. We have known them longer than dear Mr. Wickham.”

  “Such a loss,” Mary eased down onto the edge of the chair next to Mrs. Forester, “and so young to die.”

  “Age is not relevant.” Mrs. Forester sighed. “I fear being attached to the regiment teaches one that lesson. But Wickham’s loss is particularly painful.” She blinked rapidly and sniffed. “We were all such close acquaintances, you understand. Facing the risk of death each time there is a battle with the enemy makes one live every moment to the fullest, I have found.”

  “Such a situation must be very demanding on one’s constitution,” Mary said in a tone filled with commiseration as she watched Mrs. Forester’s gaze follow Denny. Suspicion of their involvement grew as she observed emotions flash in the woman’s eyes. “Being the wife of the commanding officer of a regiment must be difficult. I expect you are needed to offer support to grieving widows, as well.”

  Mrs. Forester straightened her shoulders as her startled glance turned to Mary, but her tension visibly eased when she saw nothing but sympathy in Mary’s gaze. “It is difficult, but I admit I leave most of that sort of thing to my husband and the other officers. For I am young, you see, and not as experienced in dealing with the harsher realities of life.”

  Mary managed a soothing tone, “How stressful your role must be. I am not certain I could respond in the appropriate manner.”

  “I can deal with the social events of my husband’s position. After all, where else would I have attendance from so many handsome, young men?” Mrs. Forester turned a glittering glance on Mary. “You thought Mr. Wickham very handsome at one time, as well, I believe.”

  “Indeed, I did,” Mary said and tried not to expose her dismay at the topic. She needed to get some information before Denny returned. “As did many other women in this room. I believe you did as well, Mrs. Forester, did you not?”

  Mrs. Forester's brow furrowed as she gazed into the distance. “Wickham was an intriguing mix of charm and danger which makes a woman’s heart flutter.” Her gaze turned back to Mary. “I must admit I am curious, Miss King. You had an opportunity many women long for and yet you turned away. Tell me, exactly why did your understanding with Wickham end for you were the focus of his attentions before he turned his sights on Lydia, I believe.”

  “Alas, my uncle's advisor was very outspoken,” Mary sighed and forced her fingers to relax the grip on the folds of her dress, “ and for some reason, he took a dislike to Mr. Wickham.”

  Mrs. Forester gave a soft snort. “For reasons I fail to understand, men do not appreciate the charm Mr. Wickham possessed.” She leaned forward to confide, “My own husband is one such man. For all his experience with men in the militia, he seemed less able to note Wickham’s worth than that of other men in his command.”

  “Oh, indeed, and how did his reluctance come to your attention?”

  “Well, take the incident with Lydia, for instance. The silly girl came to Brighton as my companion, you understand. With her inexperienced ways and total disregard for manners, she was quiet popular with the regiment. I cannot think when I have had more fun than when she was with us, but that was all before she ran off with Wickham. Yet would my husband listen when I warned him that trouble was brewing? I cautioned him that Wickham could spin a spell around the heart of a young girl such as Lydia.”

  “Yet she fell for his charm despite the age difference?”

  “Wickham was not old,” Mrs. Forester snapped. “Not nearly as old as my husband in any case, but yes she succumbed to his smooth speaking ways. And I must admit I was not surprised.”

  “So, it was true affection on Lydia’s part, not just some ploy to gain freedom from her parents?”

  “Upon my word, I tell you Lydia spoke of nothing but Wickham for weeks before they eloped. I declare, it was so constant I even fancied myself infatuated with him from just listening to her carry on about him endlessly. It was definitely a love match on Lydia’s side, though I cannot think the same for Wickham.” Her eyes widened as her gaze fastened on Mary. “I have no need to explain his ways to you, for you were attached to Wickham, as well.”

  “I do wonder though,” Mary said, trying to keep the flush from her cheeks as she recalled her brush with Wickham’s attentions. Taking a deep breath, she attempted to steer the conversation back to Lydia. “Is it possible Lydia might have discovered Wickham’s easy manner with women and attacked him in anger?”

  “What nonsense!” Mrs. Forester said. Then she smoothed the skirt of her gown as if to calm her emotions as she continued. “What I mean to say, is why would Lydia care if Wickham charmed other women? He married her did he not?” Brow wrinkled, Mrs. Forester continued in a determined tone. “Besides, as much as I loathed Lydia’s lashing out and accusing the colonel and me of killing Wickham, I distinctly remember seeing her in the garden the whole time I was there. And now that I recall her whereabouts, I am certain Lydia did not murder Wickham.” Mrs. Forester’s cheeks flared with color and sparks glittered in her eyes. “But I am hopeful whoever murdered Wickham will hang.”

  Startled by the depth of emotion ringing in Mrs. Forester’s words, Mary attempted to keep her face free of any expression. Shocked as she was by Mrs. Forester’s sharp words, Mary was certain of one thing, at least. Lydia Wickham did not murder her husband.

  But she considered the possibility of Mrs. Forester's involvement with renewed interest. Her emotional reaction concerning Wic
kham’s death seemed to indicate more than friendship existed between Wickham and his colonel’s wife. Mary took a deep breath. Had she discovered the suspect guilty of Wickham’s murder?

  Mary considered the possibility that Mrs. Forester's reactions were those of a scorned lover. It was a possibility she must give careful consideration. It could be that Mrs. Forester was only lashing out because she and the colonel were accused of Wickham’s murder. However, with Lydia no longer under suspicion, Mary needed a new suspect, and Mrs. Forester’s behavior with Denny certainly gave the impression that she was, indeed, a possible candidate.

  ***

  “Captain Carter,” Colonel Fitzwilliam paused in front of the fireplace, “you were closely acquainted with Mr. Wickham’s associates and Mrs. Wickham, I believe.”

  “That is correct, sir.” Captain Carter replied from his seat in a wing-backed chair near the hearth. “I was friends with Lydia...Mrs. Wickham and Denny before I met Mr. Wickham.”

  “How did your acquaintance begin?”

  “Denny and I were in the militia together before we arrived in Meryton. Denny met Lydia and Kitty Bennet in town and introduced me after they became friends. Then Wickham arrived in Meryton to take his commission and he became one of the group.”

  “What can you tell me about Wickham’s other friends?”

  “Colonel, Wickham could spin yarns that lured people to his side. I never met them all.”

  “Did he have enemies?”

  Captain Carter stared at the flames blazing in the fireplace for a heartbeat. “Not that I recall, Colonel, but he had many debtors.”