Who Murdered Mr Wickham

by Carol Hutchens

  Not that Darcy noticed, or cared, about Caroline’s attempts to attract him. Darcy’s lack of response earned Fitzwilliam her ill humor as proved by her present actions, so Fitzwilliam kept quiet and allowed Colonel Forester respond.

  “Miss Bingley, Mrs. Hurst,” Colonel Forester gave a slight bow in their direction and turned his gaze on Caroline. “Are you referring to Colonel Fitzwilliam, ma’am?”

  “Absolutely, Colonel, and if you intend to identify the murderer, then you need search no further.” Caroline aimed a slanted glance at Fitzwilliam to detect his reaction to her words. “I assume the colonel has informed you of his role as a joint-guardian of Miss Georgiana Darcy?”

  “Your comments are quite helpful, ma’am, for I had no knowledge of such an arrangement.” Colonel Forester’s brow wrinkled as he glanced at Fitzwilliam. Then he turned back to Caroline and lowered his voice as he inquired. “Begging your pardon, ma’am, but do apprise me as to how such a fact is relative to Mr. Wickham’s untimely demise.”

  “Colonel Forester, surely you are aware Darcy has enough funds to arrange any actions he should choose. I am merely suggesting that, perhaps, Colonel Fitzwilliam added some funds to his own pockets and removed an embarrassment for the family. Or perhaps he possesses some of Darcy's famous pride and he acted out of honor.” Caroline paused as she sent a glare across the room toward the object of her heart’s greatest desire.

  Fitzwilliam was relieved to note Darcy focused his attention totally on his wife as guests milled around them. Perhaps she was incensed by Darcy's lack of attention, for Caroline lowered her voice to a confiding tone and continued to share details with Colonel Forester. “Everything was kept very quiet, mind you, and few people ever heard that Mr. Wickham once tried to elope with dear Miss Darcy.”

  A gasp sounded loud in the low hum of conversation filling the room. Colonel Fitzwilliam looked about to locate the source, but was unable to determine if the sound came from a pale- faced Georgiana or from a pink-cheeked Lizzy as she glared at Caroline.

  Either source was possible for since Lizzy had married Darcy she devoted her free time to his sister. In return, Georgiana had formed a strong bond with her brother’s wife, making the three of them a close-knit family.

  As one of Georgiana's guardians, Fitzwilliam appreciated Lizzy’s devotion to his young cousin and felt nothing but admiration for Darcy’s choice of a wife. Fitzwilliam had encountered few people with a temperament as sweet as his ward’s and he was relieved to see her so happy.

  Glancing about the room in an attempt to clear his mind of Caroline's unsettling claims, Fitzwilliam's attention settled on his hosts for the evening. It occurred to him that Bingley and his wife, Jane, were two people who possessed dispositions as pleasant as Georgiana's. But reality returned with the accusing tone of Caroline's voice and he found it difficult to accept that with her unkind manner of speaking, Caroline was indeed Bingley’s sister.

  Forcing any trace of his thoughts from his expression, Fitzwilliam managed a polite tone and a slight bow as he said. “Miss Bingley, I cannot tell you how disappointed I am to learn you have formed such a low opinion of me since last we met.”

  “Oh, but you are quite mistaken, Colonel Fitzwilliam. My opinion of you has not changed in the least since the moment we first met.”

  “Ah, then you must forgive me daring to think otherwise on previous occasions when you made a point to seek my attention.” Fitzwilliam hid his expression with a formal bow.

  Colonel Forester paid no attention to polite manners and demanded, in an astounded tone, as Fitzwilliam straightened to his full height. “Sir, is what Miss Bingley says in fact true? Are you Miss Darcy’s guardian?”

  “It is true, I share the role of guardian with Mr. Darcy, but I have no notion why such information matters in the circumstances of Mr. Wickham's death.”

  “As you observe, Colonel Forester, all is not as it seems,” Caroline’s tone hinted at dark secrets as she spoke to the colonel. “Perhaps before you disregard the value of my contribution, you should consider how such information coming to light would reflect serious neglect by two such gentlemen as Mr. Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam. News that they allowed the young girl under their protection to be whisked out of their care and off to Hamsgate, would reflect poorly on both gentlemen.”

  “Correct you are, Miss Bingley. This matter needs further examination,” Colonel Forester retorted.

  Colonel Fitzwilliam acknowledged the comment and accompanying glare from his fellow officer with a nod, “Of course, Colonel. And it shall be scrutinized at great length, but not in front of the guests.” Fitz sent a slight bow toward the Bingley sisters. “Ladies.”

  ***

  Lizzy turned to Darcy and murmured only for his hearing. “Oh, I cannot think how Bingley could be related to such a woman. Caroline is up to her games again. Surely we cannot allow her to cast doubt on members of your family without responding.”

  “We must, my dear.” Forcing his jaw to relax, Darcy lifted a shoulder and removed his gaze from the source of the loud comments. Instead he turned his attention to the more pleasant sight of his wife’s face. “There is more to be lost than gained by acknowledging Caroline’s nonsense.”

  Darcy’s mood lightened as he studied the disgruntled expression on his wife’s face. In the few months since their marriage, his heart had never been as content, and his younger sister had blossomed under Lizzy’s attentions. He would not allow vengeful statements to destroy this pleasant state of affairs, but neither did he wish Georgiana’s lack of judgment to be ridiculed if her plans to elope with Wickham became public knowledge.

  He must ignore the source threatening his family's happiness. Bingley would not object if him cut Caroline cold. Previous encounters with Caroline had proved her aim was to gain his response, and he vowed she would get no such satisfaction from him. Still, if she persisted with these inane comments, she would force him to act. For the time being, however, more urgent matters demanded his attention.

  For one, his dear Lizzy was unaware of how serious the allegations against members of her own family were, and he intended to keep her free from worry. He must find a way to disprove claims against the Bennets before they damaged his wife’s contentment. Normally, Fitz would assist him in his efforts, but, while his cousin was solving this crime, Darcy intended to protect his family in his own way.

  “But Mr. Darcy—”

  “Dear wife, have I not requested you to use my Christian name?”

  Lizzy smiled as she lost herself in his eyes. “I know, Will, but it is a habit learned from early childhood. Mamma always calls our father Mr. Bennet, and I feel compelled to call you—”

  “Husband, dear, or Will, if you please, wife.”

  The warmth in his brown eyes tugged at Lizzy’s heart. She had always dreamed of marrying for love, but never realized the joys awaiting her when she did so. Darcy was different when they were alone. His eyes filled with a teasing light she had never witnessed in public. Not even with Georgiana did he show his emotions as he did with her. Had she guessed at the depth of Darcy's emotions, she was not convinced she would have acted any more circumspect than Lydia had with Wickham. However, as strong as her feeling were for Darcy, Lizzy maintained some semblance of proper behavior in public. Still, she would do anything to please him.

  “Dear Will,” Lizzy breathed. Then she peeped past his shoulder to confirm that her mother could not hear the endearment. However, her mother was attempting to speak with Lydia. For Lydia was a moving target, pacing the floor, sometimes stomping her foot, or staring at the guests. Poor, Lydia. Being a widow so young was unthinkable. “How goes the quest to find Wickham’s murderer?”

  “We must ask Bingley.” Darcy glanced some feet away, where his friend hovered near his wife. Darcy would rather avoid intruding on their time together, but he dared not, and urged Lizzy forward. “Charles, what say you about the situation?”

  “Oh, Lizzy,” Jane rushed into speech as soon as Liz
zy and Darcy reached them. “They have accused our family and Bingley’s of being suspect in Wickham’s murder. What are we to do?”

  “What nonsense.” Lizzy clasped Jane’s hands in hers. “Tell me, exactly what they said.”

  “I cannot recall every word, but it seems they believe all the Bennets have good reason to want Wickham dead, but especially you, Lizzy.”

  “The colonels have reason to suspect Caroline,” Bingley added when Jane paused for breath, “and I expect we will hear Louisa and Hurst accused as well.”

  “How can this be?” Lizzy looked at Darcy then turned back to Bingley. “Do they not have other suspects for this crime?”

  Color filled Bingley’s face as words spewed from him. “Most of the guests in fact, but our families were named. Of course there is no truth to this.”

  “What of Lydia?” Darcy asked. “Do they suspect her of the deed as well?”

  Lizzy whirled toward him. “Surely you cannot mean Lydia killed her own husband?”

  Darcy lifted a shoulder as he glanced about the room. “It would not be the first time a wife has killed her husband. I would look there first, if I had the duty.”

  “Where exactly would you look, Will?” Colonel Fitzwilliam appeared at Darcy’s side. “What have I missed?”

  “Colonel Fitzwilliam, pray do not pay any heed to Mr. Darcy's words. He only suggested possibilities.” Jane replied.

  “What theory have you now, Will?” Colonel Fitzwilliam eyed his cousin. “Pray, tell me if you have a solution to this crime, for, as yet, we have no answers.”

  “It is not a solution, but pure tomfoolery and not to be considered.” Lizzy ground her teeth as she glared at her husband. “I cannot think how you could suggest such a thing.”

  “I merely suggested if the rest of the family is under suspicion, then why not Lydia?” Darcy kept his voice calm amongst the tightly wound nerves he had set on edge by his casual comment. “It was only an observation.”

  “Yet one to ponder,” Colonel Fitzwilliam turned to study the young widow with a thoughtful glance, “though I must confess we have so many prospects, I doubt this one will be unexpected.”

  ***

  Across the room, Mrs. Forester was in fine form as she lifted her chin to stare at the colonel. “Well, husband, pray tell, who murdered dear Wickham.”

  “It is difficult to say.” Colonel Forester turned to gaze about the guests, and then focused his attention on his wife. “For all I know, you could be guilty of the crime.”

  “How droll of you to suggest such a thing, but do whisper the name of the guilty person in my ear.”

  “If I but knew.” Colonel Forester reached to pluck a leaf from his wife’s long locks. “My dear, how is it that you go outside to take the air and come back wearing a bouquet of leaves on your person?”

  “Oh, do stop with your foolish talk and tell me, Forester. Who is guilty of this murder, for I want to give him a piece of my mind before you haul him off to the gaol?”

  “Mm, yes, the murderer robbed you of one of your favorites, did he not, wife?”

  “How do you know the murderer was a man?” Mrs. Forester arched a shaped brow. “Perhaps the crime is the results of a lover’s tiff. Are you questioning women as well?”

  “Wife, do you dare suggest that Mrs. Wickham might have murdered her husband?”

  “Oh, how delightful of you to reach such a conclusion, my dear, for even I had not considered such a possibility.” Mrs. Forester beamed up at the colonel. “Do you think it is a solution? We know Lydia well enough. Do you consider her capable of such an act?”

  “Do you suppose his wife could do this thing? Or perhaps it was you, wife. For you were better acquainted with Wickham than ever I was.”

  Mrs. Forester tapped her toe as glared at the colonel.“Could not any wife or husband on occasion find the passion to commit such an act?” Not waiting for a response, she swept a hand over her hair and gazed around her. “This gathering has become even more uninteresting than evenings at Lucas Lodge, and I swear, all our acquaintances have deserted us.”

  “Stop swearing, wife, it is not good manners.”

  Mrs. Forester tapped his chest with her finger and sent him a flirting glance showing her mood had improved. “And how, pray tell, do you expect me to avoid doing so when I live surrounded by militia men?”

  “Wife, you should be a good influence on my men, not the other way round.” The colonel sent her an affectionate glance. “Save your games for later, my dear. Now, I have duties to perform.” He turned to search the crowd. “What happened to Denny and Captain Carter? They are usually at your beck and call for entertainment.”

  “Oh, poof,” Mrs. Forester tossed her head. “Denny is attending the poor widow and Carter was with Miss King, last I saw him. So it is up to you, husband.” She leaned against the colonel’s arm and pressed her body close. “Play a game with me, and take the boredom out of this wasted evening. Let us guess who murdered Wickham.”

  “Perhaps it was Denny,” the colonel nodded toward Denny, who stood on the other side of the room beside Lydia, “since he was one of your close circle and knew the Wickhams well.”

  “Oh, how you go on, Colonel.” Mrs. Forester trilled, though an unbecoming expression coverd her face as she watched Denny bend to speak in Lydia’s ear. She whirled back to face her husband. “What possible reason could Denny have for doing such a thing?”

  “He was friends with the wife before Wickham arrived. And let us not forget he is a trained militia man, and would find the task easier than some ordinary person.”

  “You and Carter are trained as well, and so is Colonel Fitzwilliam. Does that mean that any one of you could have murdered poor Wickham?”

  “Of course not, I was only trying to indulge you in a game. Is that not what you wanted, wife?”

  “Oh, I do so enjoy party games. Pray continue, husband. What reason could Denny have for murdering his friend Wickham?”

  “An unpaid loan, perhaps? As close as the two men were, I suspect Wickham borrowed from Denny. He asked for loans from everyone else of his acquaintance.”

  “Perhaps debt was the cause,” Mrs. Forester tapped her chin, “but it does not seem reason enough to kill. Murder seems such a violent act. There must have been intense passion inside the person responsible.”

  Colonel Forester frowned as he glanced at his wife. “You make a point that deserves consideration, my dear. Perhaps it was an act of passion, jealousy, mayhap, or—”

  “Jealousy,” Mrs. Forester’s brow arched as she laughed, “really, husband, are you not reaching too far to find a cause? For why would Denny be jealous of Wickham?” She fluttered her handkerchief as a shield as she considered the possibility. Jealous. Could it be so? Was dear, sweet Denny so troubled over her previous encounters with Wickham that he would commit such an act of violence to win her attentions? Oh, surely not, for, after further consideration, she was quite certain Denny was unaware of her relationship with Wickham.

  Unless, the two of them were great friends, as her husband stated. She supposed Wickham might have been indiscreet and spoken of his liaison with her. Though he could not have made such a misstep, for word would have traveled around the whole of Brighton had he done so. If Denny committed this deed, it was because of something he learned at this ball, but what? Did he suspect she had gone to the garden to meet with Wickham, and only turned to him as a last recourse? Would that provoke him to murder?

  “My dear, have you not noticed how fond Denny is of Mrs. Wickham? Indeed, I believe they were great friends even before Lydia set her eye on Wickham?”

  “So you keep saying,” Mrs. Forester sniffed. “What nonsense you do go on, Colonel. If this is your idea of creating a game for my entertainment, you have failed.”

  Colonel Forester rocked on his heels, determined to regain his wife’s good humor. “Perhaps the other young lady you mentioned is responsible.”

  “Oh, that red-headed, Miss King did claim Wickha
m’s attention for a time. Um,” Mrs. Forester tapped her chin, “yes, she could be the murderer. I have heard it said that people with red hair have a temper to match. Now there is passion for you, sir. A woman scorned.”

  “You think such could happen, wife?” Colonel Forester studied the female in question as Miss King stood conversing with Lady Lucas. “Still, did we not hear that she was the one who ended the arrangement with Wickham, and not the reverse?”

  “Such gossip is rarely true, sir. Perhaps she actually expected the match to occur. I heard she all but snatched Wickham from Lizzy Bennet’s snare.”

  “Ah, do I detect that you do not care for Lydia’s sister, my dear?”

  “She is too full of herself, by far. Not as much so as that Caroline Bingley, but she has a haughty expression about her, as if she can tell what you are thinking. Now there is a woman who could commit a crime of passion, husband.”

  Colonel Forester frowned as he glanced at the target of their discussion. “I am not so certain you are correct, my dear. Mrs. Darcy has too much at stake to commit such a careless act, and for what reason?”

  “Wickham rejected her favor when he turned to Miss King, of course. Yet, his lack of interest in her did not end there, for he added even more insult to her considerable pride when he married Mrs. Darcy’s youngest sister. Can you imagine her shame?”

  “Ah, but you are overlooking one very important point, my dear. Mr. Darcy is well-heeled, while Mr. Wickham borrowed from all his acquaintances just to have enough funds to survive. Regrettably, in this matter I fear you are mistaken.”

  “Then we must reconsider Miss King as a likely suspect.” Mrs. Forester turned to stare at the woman holding her attention. “Look at her big blue eyes and tiny little person. Why, she looks no more than a child playing dress-up. No wonder Wickham turned her away. He wanted a real woman to get his arms around.”