Who Murdered Mr Wickham

by Carol Hutchens

  Chapter 16

  Colonel Fitzwilliam stood with his back to the door as he said. “Mr. Denny, how would you describe your relationship with Mrs. Wickham? I assure you I ask only in the interest of discovering who murdered her husband. We have no wish to judge your actions.”

  Denny gave a slight tilt of his head. “I appreciate your words, Colonel, but my friendship with Mrs. Wickham is no secret. We were friends even before Wickham arrived in Meryton.”

  “And that is all, there was no secret longing on your part?”

  “I considered Lydia too young at the time, Colonel.”

  “Very well, Mr. Denny, I believe that is all we require of you at this time.” As the door of the library closed behind Denny, Colonel Fitzwilliam studied the expressions of his two partners in the investigation, and addressed them in a firm tone. “Gentlemen, we learned nothing from Mr. Denny but what we had already heard from Captain Carter. I suggest we take a short time to rethink our plan. The sun is not yet up, but soon we must decide if we are going to request the guests remain any longer.”

  “Good thought, Colonel, I fear the men have tired of keeping watch. And I find myself in need of nourishment.” Mr. Bingley responded eagerly. “Let us return to the ballroom. Jane has organized a selection of foods.” Bingley turned to the man standing guard of the fireplace. “Colonel Forester, will you join us? Or shall I send a maid with your coffee?”

  “What? Oh, ummm, of course I will accompany you. I must confer with my wife as to her welfare. She feels abandoned at this event.” Colonel Forester turned grim, red-streaked eyes on Bingley. “If you will pardon me for saying so, Bingley, your wife’s family has not made Mrs. Forester feel very welcome at this ball.”

  Bingley straightened his shoulders. “Colonel, I am most distressed to hear of your wife’s discomfort. But you must admit my wife’s family suffered greatly when their daughter disappeared from the safety of your home in Brighton.”

  “She did not vanish, sir.” Colonel Forester’s face filled with color. “She left a note stating her intentions to run off with that scoundrel Wickham.”

  “Be that as it may, Colonel,” Colonel Fitzwilliam stopped on his way to the door and turned to face Colonel Forester, “you must concede the fact that the Bennets had reason for concern until Mr. Wickham and Lydia were found safe and married.”

  After a rough clearing of his throat, Colonel Forester said in a lower voice, “I never heard details of that situation. When, exactly, did Wickham marry Lydia Bennet?”

  Bingley stepped forward to open the door and gave a slight bow as he waved the colonels through. “Colonel, that is a question you must ask the Bennets. The information you seek is not mine to tell.”

  ***

  After obtaining a cup of coffee, Colonel Fitzwilliam joined Darcy. Nourishment would be welcome, but he dared not indulge for fear of falling asleep before he discovered the answers he needed to identify the murderer.

  “How goes it, Fitz?” Mr. Darcy greeted him.

  “Not very encouraging, I fear.” Fitzwilliam sipped from the hot, restoring brew in his cup. “We can not find enough information to identify the culprit. To be quite frank, Will, I question the good sense behind our actions since this investigation started.”

  “Surely you had no expectation that identifying the killer would be an easy task.” Mr. Darcy lifted a shoulder as he glanced around the room. A gray tinge to the windows announced the coming of dawn as did the lines of exhaustion on faces of the guests. “After all, a person capable of murder must be conniving enough to hide his identity, do you not agree?”

  “Sensible as always, Will, but I must confess I have no thought of how to make progress from this point, and, the passing hours only make the task more difficult. Colonel Forester is not the most jovial fellow at the best of times, and hours of questioning guests have added nothing to his disposition.”

  “You did not serve with him in the same regiment?”

  “There is no previous acquaintance between us, if that is what you are asking, cousin.” Fitzwilliam paused to drink from his cup. “Though, I must confess, after this night I am relieved over the lack of a former connection. Colonel Forester’s familiarity with some guests and the victim has taken a toll on his bearing.”

  Darcy nodded, “It could be a strain to question men in your command when you are aware you might send one of them to hang. Leading men into battle, when all are in danger would be easier, I believe.”

  Fitzwilliam drank from his cup and glanced around the room. Bingley stood nearby, holding a cup and saucer as he talked with his wife. Bingley met Fitzwilliam’s gaze and lifted his cup in greeting. Fitzwilliam gave a nod in return. “I must confess, cousin, Mr. Bingley is the most even-tempered man I have ever encountered. Without his presence, some of the guests might have taken offense at the questions we were forced to ask.”

  “’Tis a fact, cousin, I believe Bingley’s disposition and good humor to be second only to my own.” With a sly grin at Fitzwilliam, Darcy took a drink from his cup.

  Fitzwilliam coughed to keep from choking on the coffee he was swallowing. “Will Darcy, I spent half a lifetime thinking you were without humor, and you chose a time such as this to express levity. And before the sun has taken to the sky, as well.”

  “You appeared in need of some lighthearted words, cousin.” Darcy studied Fitzwilliam with a practiced glance. “I fear responsibility weighs too heavy on your countenance this early hour.”

  “How right you are, cousin.” Fitzwilliam stared across the room as Colonel Forester leaned protectively over his wife. Yet her stiff posture and the pout on her full lips did not bode well for the colonel. “I must confess to feeling concern for Forester’s health. He turned almost purple when Bingley made a comment he did not appreciate.”

  ***

  A short time later the three men returned to the library. As the door closed behind them, Fitzwilliam said, “Colonel Forester, before we make inquires of the other guests, perhaps we should discuss your relationship with Captain Carter and Mr. Denny.”

  “May I inquire as to what brought this topic to mind, Colonel?”

  “Only concern for your welfare, sir,” Fitzwilliam injected quickly. “It occurred to me that asking questions of your own men must be quite a strain, considering one of them could hang if found guilty.”

  “That is a fact, sir.” Colonel Forester responded in a blustering tone. “Was this the subject you were discussing with Mr. Darcy when the two of you were looking so intently in my direction?”

  “I do beg your pardon, Colonel. Actually, Darcy and I did mention your name. My cousin commented on how tired we appeared. And as I could not see my own face, I turned to examine yours.” Fitzwilliam paused. “Darcy expressed his sympathy for the fact that you must question men with whom you are so closely acquainted.”

  “Rightly so, but not the words I expected at all.”

  “How very interesting.” Fitzwilliam studied the other man as he continued. “May I ask what pronouncement were you expecting, Colonel?”

  “One never knows when attending gatherings such as this. My wife took note of your interest in our presence, as well. She suggested I should take care to protect myself in your company.”

  “Come now, Colonel—”

  “I am quite certain the concern is only for your well-being, Colonel Forester.” Bingley rushed into speech.

  “Be that as it may, Colonel, I could only assume you were making some observation on my conduct. Perhaps even suggesting I showed partiality to my men.”

  Fitzwilliam made note of Colonel Forester’s defensive posture and considered this matter needed further examination. Indeed, if they found a man in the militia guilty of the crime, he would insist the magistrate hear the evidence. Then Sir William could determine if the man was guilty. “On the contrary, Colonel, you have my sympathy as you might find it necessary to send one of your men to his death.”

  Colonel Forester lifted his chin even higher.
“It is no less than he deserved if he is guilty of this murder. Do you not agree, Colonel Fitzwilliam?”

  Tension seemed to permeate the room. After a long pause, Fitzwilliam disregarded the colonel's tone as he spoke in a low voice. “I agree, and much as I am loath to do so, I fear we must speak with Mrs. Wickham again.”

  “Colonel, are you quite certain that is necessary?” Bingley waved an arm. The first rays of sunlight showed through the tall windows of the library, but the candles still provided the needed light. “Mrs. Wickham is overcome with grief, and this room appears the same as when she saw Wickham’s body on the floor. Could we not—”

  “Get on with fetching her, sir. I agree with the Colonel.” Colonel Forester's voice rose over Bingley’s objections. “We must speak with the widow if we are to sort this out.”

  Bingley caught back further words of protest before they escaped his mouth, but he objected to the tone Colonel Forester used when he said the word widow. Lydia Bennet...Wickham had not invited this situation upon her head, and Colonel Forester was in error if he imagined otherwise.

  Reluctant though he was, Bingley followed the colonel's orders. And there was no doubt in his mind it was an order. The colonel's commanding tone made it clear. Bingley might be the host, but Colonel Forester considered himself and Colonel Fitzwilliam to be in charge.

  That suited Bingley's frame of mind for he was sorely exhausted by the turn of events and facing Lydia's sharp tongue was the last thing he wished.

  Arriving in the ballroom, he approached Lydia and his reception was much as he had expected. Lydia balked at his request that she return to the library. Perhaps she wanted only to avoid another round of questions, or maybe she was opposed to returning to the scene of the murder. Bingley could not be certain of what made her refuse his request. However, after much persuading from Jane and Lizzy, over Mrs. Bennet’s loudly voiced objections, Lydia agreed to accompany him to the library.

  Lydia stomped down the stairs at a fast pace, stalked into the room, and burst into speech before Bingley could close the door. “Really, Colonel Forester, how unkind of you to insist I return to this room.”

  “Try to avert your line of sight, Mrs. Wickham.” Colonel Fitzwilliam advised when she paused for breath. “We regret the need to inconvenience you at a time such as this, but I am certain you understand our chances of catching the murderer are slipping past and you are in possession of facts no one else can know.”

  “The murderer could be half way to town for all the time that has passed since my poor husband was murdered, and I have answered enough questions from Jane and Lizzy. Why must I answer more?” Lydia flounced over to a chair and plopped down. “I had nothing to tell them, and I have nothing more to reveal to you.”

  “Interesting,” Colonel Forester paced in front of Lydia’s chair, “what questions did your sisters ask, Mrs. Wickham?”

  “How droll of you, Colonel.” Lydia snickered before she continued. “They asked about Wickham if you must know.”

  “Perhaps you could repeat their questions and we will not make the mistake of asking the same things.”

  Colonel Fitzwilliam sent Colonel Forester a glare and turned to Lydia. “Mrs. Wickham, I am afraid we must ask again, on the off chance that you have recalled some detail you failed to mention earlier. Can you think of anyone who wanted to harm your husband?”

  Lydia turned wide eyes on Fitzwilliam. “I just realized, Colonel, you and Mr. Darcy are cousins, but neither of you possess the measure of charm my Wickham had. I expect that is reason enough for some men to wish him dead. Women noticed my husband, you know. And that made other men envious.”

  “Did the interest women showed Mr. Wickham concern you, at all?” Colonel Forester asked.

  Lydia rolled her eyes. “How can you think that, Colonel? Every woman wants a husband other women envy.” She lowered her eyes and peeped at him through her eyelashes. “Harriet discussed this topic with me many times when we were alone.”

  “Had Mr. Wickham disagreed with anyone recently?” Colonel Forester demanded in the tense silence that followed her words. “Perhaps he had words over a card game, or encountered the husband of one of the women you referred to?”

  Lydia turned to Colonel Forester with glare of dislike. In fact, had Colonel Forester been the one murdered, after seeing Lydia's expression, Bingley could almost imagine she would be a suspect in the colonel's murder.

  “We arrived late, thanks to poor travel arrangements and useless public transport.” Lydia snapped. “Poor Wickham hardly had time to change before the ball. There was no opportunity for a disagreement to develop. Mind you, even had there been time, any dispute could not be blamed on Wickham. It was not in his nature to fight.”

  “Of course he would fight. He was in the military.” Colonel Forester raised his voice. “And we're well aware of the fact that your husband owed money to all he knew. Can you not see how his debts could result in ill feelings, Mrs. Wickham?”

  Lydia snorted. “Wickham’s friends all borrowed money, as well. How else can these men live? They struggle to survive while men such as Darcy and Bingley have more than they need. But do they share? Did they offer to help? I think not. So do not blame debt as the cause of my poor Wickham’s death, Colonel.”

  “Very well, Mrs. Wickham, who do you blame for your husband’s death?”

  Chapter 17

  Bingley and the colonels returned to the ballroom after their wasted interview with Lydia. The long hours and endless questioning were wearing on their energy. They needed liquid for their throats and food for energy. “Jane, my dear, I mean no harm, but I must say, speaking with your sister is mindful of turning in circles. There is no sense or reason to half what she says and you go no where. But perhaps it is just me.”

  “Oh, my dear Bingley, of course it is not you. Lydia has had a stubborn streak since the day she was born. And truthfully, Lizzy and I often puzzled over what was in her head other than the desire to have things her own way. Yet her disposition is sweet as honey if you do not cross her.”

  “Not vexing her takes effort,” Bingley admitted as he glanced about the room. “Now I must speak to Caroline if you will excuse me, my dear.”

  Bingley was not looking forward to this conversation, but it was his duty. Caroline was his sister. Therefore, he was her protector. Not that she needed protection. More often than not, he felt obliged to protect the target of her tongue, rather than her. Even after being up all night her eyes flashed daggers as he approached. “Caroline, you are still awake I see.”

  “What do you expect, as we are confined to this room like prisoners? Surely, Charles, you have learned enough to catch the murderer by now, for it is nearly morn.”

  “Ah, but you are mistaken, my dear. For you, two hours after sunrise might be nearly morn, but for one who enjoys the outdoors, such myself, three hours have gone wasting since the start of day, and still we cannot identify the person guilty of this crime.”

  “What nonsense, Charles. Can you not use the militia men to frighten the truth out of the guilty person? Do something. Anything to get us out of this wretched ballroom. Between the odors of cold food and bodies too long without a bath, I fear I am on the verge of having a fit of vapors like Mrs. Bennet does. Do you know she has enjoyed at least four such fits since we first heard of the murder?”

  “Caroline, do try to be kind to Jane’s family.”

  Caroline gave a snort. “After events of this night, I dearly wish never see any of them again, including Eliza.” Caroline turned to stare at Lizzy and Darcy. “Now there is a candidate for your murder, Charles. Poor Eliza never got over Wickham's marriage to Lydia.”

  “Pray how could that be when she won Darcy? You are mistaken, Caroline. However, I feel you should be aware your name has been mentioned as a possible suspect.”

  “What utter nonsense do you speak, Charles.” Caroline let loose a twitter of laughter as she glanced toward Louisa, but her sister had finally succumbed to the hour and
closed her eyes. “What reason could I possibly have to harm Wickham? I barely knew the man.”

  “You were seen leaving the library a short time before his body was discovered.”

  “Ah, it sounds as though your colonels are desperate to make an identity, Charles. Yet it is true that I stopped by the fire in the library to warm my hands. But you and the colonels are forgetting a one point. I found that servant of Darcy’s making free use of the library when I arrived. Perhaps Miss Brown is your guilty party.”

  “Caroline, do stop calling Miss Brown a servant. And that reminds me, why did you confront her earlier in the hallway?”

  “Did I?” Caroline focused her gaze on the wrinkles in her skirt and tried to smooth them with a shaking hand. “I cannot recall.”

  “Earlier in the evening, before the ball, you encountered Miss Brown and—”

  “Really, how you do go on, Charles. Do you expect me to make time to speak when I pass a servant in the hallway?” Caroline rolled her eyes and gave a snort. “Is this what marriage to one of the Bennet girls has done for you, Charles? For I must tell you it is not in the least bit flattering.”

  ***

  After Bingley left to go speak with Caroline, Jane noticed Denny standing at the table of refreshments and quickly moved to join him. “Denny, I have had not an occasion to speak with you since hearing of the murder. Please accept my condolences for I recall how close you and Mr. Wickham were.”

  Denny bowed. “Your memory is correct, Mrs. Bingley. Wickham was a splendid friend, even when he borrowed my last coin.”

  “Oh, was it that bad? I understood he had debts—”

  “No reason to fret yourself, Mrs. Bingley. After all, what are friends for, if not to be there with a loan when needed?”

  “Spoken as the true friend I know you were, Denny. I still cannot believe this happened. Do you recall anyone who wished Mr. Wickham harm?”

  “Only a list as long as my arm of men he beat at cards or charmed away their ladies,” Denny said with a laugh.