Mary Bennet and the Return of the Soldier

by Carrie Mollenkopf

  “We believe that this is no coincidence. Three overdoses of opium in the last month is suspicious enough, but it would not be enough to warrant the arrest of Captain Wickham until now.” Dr. Silverton informed Atlas as they sat over a brief luncheon.

  “Has Bullen remembered anything?”

  “Not much, only that Wickham had stopped by the supply building while he was on duty. Supposedly to offer an olive branch of friendship by way of a game of whist over some tea. Wickham and Bullen’s mutual dislike is well known, but there are two credible witnesses who saw Wickham enter with a tray and leave more than an hour later, empty handed.”

  “Witnesses?”

  “The roving patrol… two enlisted men who have served honorably for years. Neither one was acquainted with the officers beyond official business.”

  “Will they testify?”

  “Amesbury has already taken their statements… but that is not all. A tainted teapot was found discarded in the midden heap behind the supply building, but nothing inside where Bullen was found when his relief came some hours later.”

  “Who exactly is this Amesbury fellow? Regular Army?”

  “No… he belongs to a special branch of crown investigators. They usually deal with corruption inside police forces… or in this case, the Army. He has been watching Wickham for months, even before the regiment came to Meryton. Apparently he has some childhood connections in the area… Charles Bingley.”

  “Bingley is a good man… and one of character. It must have been awkward for him to offer hospitality to a person investigating his own brother-in-law.”

  “Indeed…it seems the Bennet family has and interesting assortment of connections.”

  Atlas only nodded, and then excused himself to examine Lt. Bullen before compiling his own report of the incident. Some hours later, as he returned to Longbourn, Atlas reflected upon the day’s events. The sole positive was the expected recovery of Lt. Bullen. While his reaction had been severe, it had been his overall excellent health that had prevented disaster. Unfortunately, the same could not be said for Mary’s sister.

  ~Twenty-four~

  While Atlas was occupied with official regimental business, Mary did her best to remain composed as an unending stream of visitors were announced in search of gossip. It certainly had not taken long for the news of Wickham’s arrest to reach the far ends of the county. Her only opportunities for reprieve came with trips to the kitchens with requests for more tea and biscuits as well as the regular observation of Lydia for any sign of waking. With Longbourn’s only maid now in the role of nurse, Mary enlisted Kitty for assistance. Uncharacteristically, Kitty did not balk at the menial tasks to which she was assigned. Unusually silent, Mary tried to discover the exact reason for her reserve.

  “Penny for your thoughts?” Mary asked as she closed the parlor door on her mother as the woman took a much needed nap between visitors. At first Kitty only shook her head, but tears streamed down her face.

  “Oh Mary! Why does Lydia always have to ruin everything? We used to be so close, but now… I wish she had never come home!”

  Mary gathered her sister in her arms and let her cry for a few moments. There was not much she could say to alter the truth. The morning had been horrific. Lady Lucas was the first to arrive, bringing two other women from local estates in her wake. Their polite inquiries barely masked the sense of triumph they displayed when speaking to Mrs. Bennet.

  “Oh my poor Margaret… it must simply be terrible. I don’t believe that anyone in our lineage has ever been arrested…and a son-in-law… When I think of how lucky it was for Charlotte to marry Mr. Collins, it gives me peace. He would never cause any sort of scandal.”

  The women had all nodded in unison to Lady Lucas’ monologue, while her mother tried to defend her family.

  “We shall have nothing to do with him. His name will never be spoken again… my poor Lydia may never recover. It has made her so ill that she has taken to her bed. I fear she may die of a broken heart.” Mrs. Bennet announced to the group as Mary and Kitty stared with disbelief. However, they had to acknowledge, it was an excellent way to explain Lydia’s absence. Mary could not imagine the gossip should any discover the reality of Lydia’s condition. Taking Kitty by the shoulders, she looked directly into her tearstained face.

  “Kitty… we will get through this, I promise you.”

  “That is all well and good for you… Atlas loves you. He won’t care about any sort of scandal… but as for me… you saw the way those women looked at me. No one will marry me now… not ever… and I was hoping…”

  Mary raised an eyebrow and smiled. “Does Sir Franklin Amesbury have anything to do with this?”

  “It doesn’t matter now… a titled man would never marry a lady with such disgraceful connections. Imagine a police investigator marrying the sister-in-law of a criminal?”

  “He will if he loves you… and if he doesn’t, then he does not deserve you.” Mary promised as the front bell rang once again, interrupting the brief respite. Answering it herself, with Kitty in her shadow, the door opened to reveal the very man himself. Staring over Mary’s shoulder, the young inspector smiled at Kitty with genuine affection before stating the reason for his unannounced visit.

  “Miss Bennet? Katherine? Might I have a word with your father? I should like to keep him appraised of the charges against Mr. Wickham.”

  “Of course, I am sure he will be pleased to receive you,” Mary replied as she left Kitty standing in the foyer with the detective as she went in search of her father. Finding him in his library as expected, Mr. Bennet was gazing out the window at the shrubbery, appearing lost in his thoughts. Mary knocked softly to announce her presence and informed her father of his visitor.

  “I suppose, that this is the beginning of the end… at least for Mr. Wickham and Lydia. Send him in if you must.”

  Mary, rang for an additional tray of tea before returning to find her sister smiling shyly as she interrupted the couple. Apparently, Kitty’s misgivings were unwarranted. At least there was one ray of happiness in this dark series of events. Escorting the policeman to the library, Mary made introductions as Mr. Bennet waved his two daughters inside to remain for the visit.

  “If they are to be affected by this affair, it is best they hear the facts straight from the source.”

  “As you see fit, sir.”

  Mary and Kitty sat side by side on the small settee that matched the single chair opposite the desk. It appeared a cozy setting, belying the nervousness betrayed by Kitty’s fingers that clenched and relaxed repeatedly. Mary however, being privy to most of what had transpired, only felt tired and anxiously dreamed of when this would all be a distant memory. Sir Franklin Amesbury, as an official of the crown, shifted in his seat, clearing his throat before beginning.

  “I am sure that Miss Bennet has given you some of the details regarding Captain Wickham, but as the investigating representative, I wanted to inform you officially….” He trailed off a bit, this was the worst part of his job, second only to informing families of death. As the Bennets were George Wickham’s only living relatives, albeit by marriage only, he was obligated to allow them to offer legal defense on his behalf.

  “Go on young man… nothing Wickham has done can possibly surprise or shock me at this point.”

  “Er… yes…well…For the past year, I have been tasked with the investigation of illegal procurement and sale of opium within His Majesty’s Army. I assure you that the process has been well documented and substantiated by facts that I am not at liberty to disclose, but my inquiries and observations have led to the arrest of Captain George Wickham. He is currently being held until his hearing set for next week. You are welcome to attend the proceedings and provide legal consul if you so desire.”

  Mr. Bennet took in the information without comment or change of countenance. To Mary, he actually seemed rather relieved and slowly drank his tea as if entertaining an old acquaintance sharing anecdotes of the past. Eventually, he
replaced his cup and spoke.

  “I do appreciate you for keeping me informed, but my participation in any affair regarding George Wickham will simply not happen. As far as I am concerned he deserves whatever punishment the militia sees fit. That man has done nothing but cause scandal and shame to my family. As we speak, my youngest child… a fool of a girl, lies unable to wake because of him…. Yes, Wickham has poisoned his own wife.”

  Franklin Amesbury’s eyes betrayed his surprise at this revelation. He had not been aware of Lydia Wickham’s condition. In his investigation, her possible knowledge or even compliance with her husband’s illegal activities had been considered heavily.

  “I may need to include this information in the case against him. Can you verify if Wickham stood to benefit in any way by your daughter’s demise?”

  “That is what is a bit strange… Lydia has been completely disinherited. Wickham would not gain one penny if she died. It was in his best interest that she live as long as possible. Just recently, she claimed to be with child, a lie, but one that would have resulted in a settlement. I would not see any grandchild of mine live in poverty. Now that I have aired all of our secrets, do as you see fit. Dr. Atlas Sutton is our family physician and can provide whatever you need in regards to Lydia’s present state. I want that man punished!”

  Amesbury was silent for a moment, he was sure that his findings would result in the severest penalty possible, especially if Mrs. Wickham died. While the death of Corporal Waverly had been inconclusive of blame due to his prior opium usage, this was another matter entirely. When compounded with the testimony of the still recovering Lt. Bullen, Wickham did not stand a chance.

  “Sir… the penalty may be death.”

  “I am past caring. A scandal will be had either way. I just want it to be over.”

  Amesbury nodded and rose to leave, offering his condolences to Mary and her father before being escorted out by Kitty. Once alone, Mr. Bennet looked up at the ceiling, muttering softly as if seeking divine guidance. Mary sat silently, she had no words of condolence to offer. This state of affairs was well beyond anything she had thought possible. Lydia’s elopement and hasty marriage paled in comparison. Noticing his daughter, Mr. Bennet gave Mary a wry smile.

  “It appears that we are truly ruined this time. And for that I blame myself… Lydia should have been sent away, and never allowed to marry that monster. Eventually she would have been forgotten, but I did not want the rest of you girls to be affected at the time. However, there are some positives to this situation.”

  “I am afraid I don’t understand.”

  “All of you girls are quite secure in your futures. Even Kitty has caught the eye of that inspector. She will never need to hide her past connections from him if they marry. Money has a way of making people forget the worst rather quickly. Eventually, this will all be forgotten, no matter how it turns out… but it may take longer than we like. Now, do your father a favor and allow him some peace… I would like to be alone for a while.”

  Mary kissed her father’s head and did as she was bid. She found it ironic that he was right. Money, or the lack of, did seem to have a way of changing how a person was viewed. Mary hated the superficial notions that dominated society, but nothing short of becoming a hermit would change things for her. “I would be considered eccentric instead of insane,” she muttered aloud and went to check on Lydia.

  ~Twenty-five~

  Mary found a bored Bridget attempting to put Lydia’s room to rights as she was tasked with being nursemaid in Mary’s absence. Looking up from where she was attempting to remove a mysterious stain from one of Lydia’s shoes, the housemaid gave her report.

  “No real changes. She mumbles a bit, asking for Mr. Wickham, but she has not woken up.”

  “Well, at least she has not gotten worse. Speaking at all is a good sign. Dr. Sutton feared permanent damage to her mind. He has seen people like this wake and not remember their own name or be able to do for themselves.”

  Bridget made an awkward face. Mary was not sure if it was displeasure or fear, but did not comment more. While the woman had never liked Lydia, with her constant demands, she would not wish her harm. Having been the eldest child of nine, growing up in the slums of Dublin, she had seen all too often the results of too much drink or opium. More than one orphaned child had begged shelter or food from their already strapped means, but Bridget never had the heart to turn anyone in need away. The youngest Bennet was selfish and a fool, but Bridget pitied her all the same.

  “Go on and leave her to me. I shall stay until Mama comes up after dinner. You have done more than your share.”

  Bobbing a curtsey, the maid left and Mary was alone with her sister. Taking the recently vacated chair next to the bed, Mary studied Lydia carefully, her limited medical training had opened her eyes to observing details that often went unnoticed in the sick until it was too late. Lydia lay on her back nearly motionless, save for the shallow breathing noted by the faint rise and fall of her bosom. For a moment, Mary imagined Sleeping Beauty from the fairy tale.

  “You are no princess, dear Lydia. Your prince charming has turned out to be quite the frog. It is fortunate that you are sleeping through it all, but I fear your state of mind once you wake…if you wake. Oh Lydia! How could you be so stupid?”

  Mary did not expect an answer, but felt better to air her thoughts as she scanned the room. Bridget had done wonders with the mess. It was reminiscent of a well-kept inn instead of the usual midden heap. Unable to sit still, Mary took a turn about the room, casually examining one random object after another before replacing it. Frowning, a strange thought crossed her mind. It was not the assortment of Lydia’s belongings, but the lack of Wickham’s. For a married man who occupied the same chamber, it was lacking in his personal effects. Mary tried to recall the day in which she had discovered the large vial of opium in Wickham’s uniform jacket. Certainly there had been other personal articles present? Where had his things gone? Had he been planning to leave... with or without Lydia? Mary had more questions than answers, but was interrupted by a soft tap on the door before it opened to expose Atlas as he poked his head in.

  “How is our patient?” Atlas inquired as he entered the room and wrapped his arms around Mary.

  “The same… Bridget said she spoke in her sleep, but nothing of value.”

  “Small progress…we must be thankful for that.”

  “I suppose, but it is frustrating. How is Lt. Bullen?”

  “Nearly back to his old self. I recommended another day abed and then he can resume his regular duties… until he is called to testify.”

  “Against Wickham? Detective Inspector Amesbury was here to visit father earlier today.”

  “I know, he met with Dr. Silverton and myself upon his return to Meryton. We shall both be required to testify, especially after Wickham’s attempt to poison you and Lydia.”

  “Me? But I feel fine.”

  “I know, but do you remember saying that your mouth had a strangely familiar taste after you drank wine at the party?”

  “Yes, but I assumed the wine had gone over.”

  “Apparently after we left, Lydia drank the rest of what was in your glass as well as mine. More than one person observed Wickham carry her out of the ballroom… and it gets only worse. At least ten men came forward to swear that Wickham had supplied them with opium. Some even produced the bottles he used…all bearing militia stamps. Apparently the news of his arrest was enough to loosen some tongues. Those who testify are being offered amnesty for their illegal actions in return. I fear that it will not go well for Captain Wickham… there is simply too much evidence.”

  Mary sighed, in some ways it was a relief. Wickham had always made her flesh crawl when he was near. While she truly felt sorry for Lydia, it was probably for the best.

  “So what happens now?”

  “In four days’ time there will be a courts martial. It is like a civilian court, only the regimental commandant serves as judge and jury.
Evidence will be produced and punishment determined.”

  “It seems rather quick.”

  “Indeed, but that is the military way.”

  “Were you able to speak with Wickham?”

  “No, no one has. He has been kept in isolation to prevent any contamination of testimony. Wickham has quite the reputation for making threats against the enlisted men.”

  “I can believe that. He probably bullied Lydia as well, but she was too silly to even notice.”

  Atlas released Mary and went to Lydia’s bedside. He took her pulse and tested her reflexes, but with no reaction.

  “Well, it has been less than twenty-four hours. I will worry more after a few days. For now, I see no reason why we cannot leave her sleep. A constant nurse watch will only be a drain on the family, checking every few hours should suffice…don’t you agree Dr. Bennet?”

  Mary nodded with relief and smiled at the use of Atlas’ private nickname for her. She was exhausted from the events of the day and wished for the simplicity of a good dinner and her own bed. Taking his proffered arm, Mary left Lydia to her drug soaked dreams.

  ~Twenty-six~

  The next few days passed without incident. Mary even felt free to spend her morning hours in the surgery at Meryton. By now, word had spread to every corner of the county about Wickham. It would do her no benefit to hide away from it. Keeping busy with the various ailments that plagued the population did much to keep her thoughts occupied elsewhere. Most of her patients had been unusually polite in their casual comments on the situation. Lydia’s absence from society had been noted, but it remained a secret as to why. Everyone assumed that she would live quietly for the time being.

  “She’s quiet that is for sure,” Mary thought aloud as she changed the sign on the surgery door to ‘closed’ on Friday that week. Atlas was still inside the room that doubled as both morgue and operating theater, tending to a particularly deep gash sustained by one of the blacksmith’s helpers. The poor fellow, really just a child, had tripped over his own growing feet and cut his arm on a length of iron. It had required a number of stitches. Tapping on the door, it was opened as Atlas gave final instructions to his embarrassed patient.