Who Murdered Mr Wickham

by Carol Hutchens

  “He left no discontented connections behind when he left Brighton?” Jane picked up a plate and pretended an interest in the food. Their cook had outdone herself on the offerings, but most of the dishes were cold by now and did not appear as appetizing as when hot from the kitchen.

  “Wickham borrowed money and charmed the ladies,” Denny shrugged, “but he did not engage in matters of anger. He used his charm against his opponents, rather than pistols or swords.”

  “Yet someone was unhappy with him,” Jane said as she selected a piece to toasted bread for her plate. “And vexed enough to commit murder.”

  “Begging your pardon for speaking ill of your sister’s husband, Mrs. Bingley, but knowing Wickham’s ways, I would bet money on a woman being the cause of his murder.” With a slight bow, Denny turned and walked away.

  Jane stared at the table as she mulled over Denny’s comment. Much as she disliked the idea, she realized that Denny’s parting words could well be the cause for Wickham’s murder. Now, if she could just determine which female Wickham was in pursuit of before his death.

  Poor Lydia would be vexed if Denny’s suggestion proved correct, but the murderer must be caught. Still Jane paused. For as much as she wanted the truth revealed, it occurred to her that Denny’s words could also be used against members of her family. Lizzy could be described as being beside herself with jealousy over Wickham having, yet another, lover. Papa might be blamed for defending his daughter’s honor, though Jane knew the physical act was not in his nature. That left Lydia to act as the jealous wife and new fear blossomed in Jane’s heart.

  She knew her youngest sister well. Lydia expected to get her way. And everyone in the area knew she had a temper. Lydia was spoiled and thrilled at being Wickham’s wife. She would not take the news of Wickham having an affair lightly.

  Jane stared about the room as tension built inside her. What should she do? How could she discover the truth? Because spoiled as she was, Jane could not find it in her heart to believe Lydia would commit murder. Stomp her foot and yell, she would do, but not murder. Not when she was besotted with Wickham.

  ***

  Mary King watched Mr. Bingley engage his sister in conversation. That Caroline Bingley disliked his words was easy to perceive from the expression on her face. The first thing Mary noticed about Bingley’s sisters was their very expressive features. With one withering look, or roll of their eyes, and they made a person feel as unimportant as a twice worn ball gown. Mary considered what it would be like to possess such confidence and yet, she could not imagine treating another person with such disregard.

  With that thought foremost in her mind, Mary turned her attention to Jane Bingley. She watched Jane approach Mr. Denny, and her senses prickled with curiosity. Mary knew little of Mr. Denny, for Wickham had wasted none of their time together speaking of his friends. Indeed, she shuddered at thinking of the pace at which he pushed their relationship. Yet she had escaped better than dear Maggie had, but that thought brought to mind another worry.

  Mary was certain there was a connection between Caroline Bingley and her cousin, but what could it be. Mary sighed for Maggie had left her with little choice. She must confront her cousin. Acknowledging the enormity of what she was about to do, and the damage it might cause to their relationship, Mary angled her chin higher. She must uncover the truth of Maggie’s involvement with Wickham if she was to prove they were innocent of his murder.

  She crossed the room to the corner where Maggie sat with Miss Darcy. By chance, as she approached, Georgiana rose from her chair beside Maggie and crossed the room to join Mr. and Mrs. Darcy. Covering her sigh of relief, Mary studied her cousin’s drooping face as she stopped in front of Maggie’s chair. “Are you well, Maggie?”

  Maggie managed a slight smile as she looked up. “Do sit down, cousin, for you must be as weary as am I.”

  “Have you managed to calm your nerves?” Mary asked as she settled in the chair beside her cousin. “The fright of your discovery was most startling, especially considering your situation.”

  Maggie’s eyes filled with tears as she looked at Mary. “How can I find any peace? When I am with Miss Darcy, I must appear calm for her sake. She knew Wickham as a child, if you recall.” Maggie gulped. “But my heart aches with a sadness I can hardly contain. Oh, Mary, I so hoped—”

  “My dear Maggie, I understand this is difficult for you, but you must consider the situation. Mr. Wickham took another woman as his wife. What hope did you have that he would return your affections or offer to care for your child?”

  Maggie drew in a shuddering breath. “But can you not see, Mary. If I gave up hope, what else did I have? What reason to wake each day?” A sob escaped her pinched lips. “It is true Wickham married another, but even to see a smile from him made my day brighter. I hoped...and prayed, once he saw his son, he would come to me—”

  “Without the benefit of marriage, or any assurance he would support you and his child? Oh Maggie, how could you think so little of yourself? Or ask for so little for your own child?”

  Maggie shoved Mary’s hand off her arm and sat stiffly erect as she glared at her cousin. “Mary, pray tell me, what you know of love? I speak of a love so strong it makes you go against all you know is right, just so you can share the little your lover is willing to give.” Maggie gulped a breath. “You were engaged to Wickham, but you never loved him. I could see it in your face. You enjoyed having a handsome suitor, but when it came to choosing Wickham or your inheritance, which did you choose, Mary? You chose the inheritance and your security.” Maggie stared at Mary, with all the hurtful anger and frustration inside her showing clearly on her features. “Do you suppose I would ever have made your choice? I could not, for I loved him. From the first time he came to visit you, I looked in his eyes and felt I had met the man my heart was made for.”

  Shocked by the sudden burst of emotion and the depth of Maggie’s feelings for Wickham, Mary could only sit and stare at the cousin she thought she knew as well as she knew herself. Yet Maggie’s words proved her wrong. Where once she had thought Maggie a soft, soothing person, there now sat a woman willing to give up all she had for the man she loved. This new side of Maggie and her single minded determination, frightened Mary more than words could describe.

  Had Maggie loved Wickham enough to kill him rather than share him with another woman? Pondering that possibility, Mary looked away from her cousin’s face and drew a shuddering breath. Icy shivers raced through her body. She had to discover whether Maggie’s emotions were strong enough that she could murder because of them. Yet how could she be certain when all this time she had believed she and Maggie were alike? Believed they were both easy going and hiding a desire to be loved. Maggie’s words confirmed the part about wanting love was correct. Yet she had also revealed her resolve to achieve that love at any cost, and that admission added to Mary’s questions.

  Did Maggie have something to do with Wickham’s murder?

  Maggie’s opinion of her true emotions concerning Wickham were correct, as well. Much as she wanted to deny Maggie's claim that she had not loved him, she could not. Since she sent Wickham away, she often worried that her emotions did not run deep enough to allow her to experience true love. If she had loved Wickham, as Maggie had described love, would she have refused his advances? Yet listening to Maggie speak of her feelings for Wickham, Mary questioned what might have happened if she, too, had loved him with the intensity her cousin had described.

  “Why did you not tell me of your feelings for Wickham?” Mary stared at Maggie, as if she had never seen her before. Indeed, she felt she had never known her cousin’s character at all, and that suspicion left an aching pain in her heart. “All the times he came to visit, you never said a word. And what of the time since I ended our agreement? You could have poured out your heart to me, but you remained silent. Why did you not reveal your feelings?”

  “What purpose would doing so have served? You agreed to marry him. What was I to say?
Oh, please do not marry the man I love? What manner of person would that make me?”

  “But Maggie, my actions made you suffer—”

  “Do not flog yourself on my account, Mary. I made my choice, not you. I returned to work for the Darcys, if you recall.”

  Mary’s eyes opened wide as the obvious truth occurred to her. “You knew!” Her thoughts tumbled too fast for words. “You were aware you would see Wickham if you worked there...is that why?”

  Maggie’s head jerked in a nod and tears filled her eyes. She brushed at her cheeks and turned to a slight smile on Mary. “I had him for a while, at least.” Maggie sat tall and her expression turned to stone. “Even while he was courting you, he came to me, Mary. Think hard of me if you must, but I loved him.”

  “Miss King?”

  Relief rushed over Mary as she turned to find Jane Bingley standing at her side. “Mrs. Bingley, how may I be of service to you?”

  “Perhaps you would walk with me, Miss King, so we might speak?”

  ***

  Jane and Bingley had watched the exchange between Miss Brown and concluded they should speak plainly with Miss King. Any reluctance on their part had eased as they observed Miss Brown’s expressions while Miss King spoke.

  Still, as Miss King rose from her chair, Jane turned in Bingley’s direction to seek reassurance. She must keep her voice calm, despite her unease. “Miss King, forgive me, but I must speak bluntly. My husband and I would like to have a word with you.”

  Miss King’s apprehension was obvious to Jane as she watched expressions chase across her guest’s face. Still, she headed toward her husband, confident Miss King would follow. She needed to have Miss King’s attention and her cooperation.

  “Ah, Miss King, so kind of you to join us,” as Bingley spoke, he produced three cups of steaming tea from the tray at his side. “Do forgive the dramatics, but my wife and I would like to have a conversation in private with you.”

  Chapter 18

  Jane and Bingley were not the only ones to observe Mary King’s conversation with Miss Brown.

  “I say, Colonel,” Colonel Forester approached Fitzwilliam as he stood by the table of refreshments, “did you by chance notice Miss King’s choice of companion for the past while? I mention this because of my wife’s comment about how often our fellow houseguest seems to converse with the woman who discovered Wickham’s body.”

  Fitzwilliam glanced toward the corner where Miss Darcy usually sat with Miss Brown and observed his ward was not there, but Miss King was in deep conversation with the woman. “Miss King’s habit of seeking out Miss Brown does make one question her reason for doing so.”

  “Could we have the person guilty of this crime?”

  Colonel Fitzwilliam frowned. “How do you suggest a female as small as Miss King could take a man of Wickham’s size by surprise and murder him?”

  “It might not be as difficult as you assume, Colonel.” Colonel Forester’s enthusiasm for the topic added a note of excitement to his tone. “Perhaps she allowed Wickham’s advances to reach more intimate familiarity than society deems appropriate.”

  “That seems unlikely, as their attachment is long past.”

  “Not so distant, Colonel, and, as you have heard, Wickham never sheathed his charm, even when he was with women who were married.”

  “Have you any proof of this matter, Forester?”

  “My own wife will confirm what I have said, sir.” Colonel Forester’s nostrils flared at Fitzwilliam’s show of doubt. “After several social events, she has commented on Wickham’s tendency toward familiarity.”

  “Perhaps we should converse with your wife, again, Colonel.”

  “To what end, Colonel? Why waste the effort. I believe we should question Miss Brown.”

  “All in good time, Colonel.” Fitzwilliam’s brow wrinkled as he glanced toward his ward’s companion. “I am of the opinion we give Miss Brown time to gather her nerves after the shock of finding a body.”

  Colonel Forester expelled a sound like a bull stomping the ground, ready to attack. “Very well, then I suggest we call Miss King back to the library and review her relationship with Wickham. Now, if you will excuse me, I must deliver this plate to my wife.”

  Fitzwilliam watched him stomp off and wondered at the emotional outburst. In his opinion, Colonel Forester was more rattled by this murder than he wanted to reveal. Wrinkling his brow even more, Fitzwilliam could not help but wonder why. Had the colonel and Mr. Wickham been better friends than the officer implied?

  ***

  “Ah, Mrs. Bingley, I regret we seemed to have spoiled your event, but may I congratulate you on providing substance of such generous proportions to your guests during this trying night.” Colonel Fitzwilliam said as he approached the Bingleys and Miss King. He had observed their intense expressions with curiosity, especially since Miss King spent so much time with Miss Brown.

  “You are too kind, Colonel,” Jane tilted her head in a polite nod. In the past, she would have allowed the conversation to flow around her and said nothing more, but this night had changed her in ways she had yet to understand. She had an inner strength and a need for answers that she never recalled experiencing before the events of this night. “Can you give our concern of harboring a murderer any relief? Perhaps you have discovered clues, and will soon reveal the person who committed this deed?”

  “I fear I can offer no such comfort at this time.” Colonel Fitzwilliam bowed. “However, you are correct in part of your observation. We must continue searching for any information we can discover. To that end, Bingley, I suggest we return to your library.” He paused and allowed his gaze to settle on the third member of their party, who had remained conspicuously silent during their exchange. “Miss King, might I request your presence for a brief discussion.”

  “Of course, Colonel,” Miss King said and with a polite tilt of her head, she turned her steps toward the door.

  Bingley’s glance trailed from the departing figure of Miss King to mingle with his wife’s gaze for a long heartbeat, before he turned to Colonel Fitzwilliam. “I am at your service, sir.”

  “One question before we go, Bingley.” Colonel Fitzwilliam glanced from Miss King’s departing figure to the Bingleys. He studied them one at a time, noting the open honesty of each face and voiced his question reluctantly. “I am confused as to how well you are acquainted with Miss King.”

  “Oh, not at all before this night,” Mr. Bingley replied eagerly.

  “I first met her at my aunt Phillips’s social, but I can hardly claim to know her. When Mr. Wickham chose her company instead of Lizzy’s that same evening, we had no further encounters until Miss King arrived with Sir William’s party tonight.” Jane replied. “But if you refer to frequent conversations we have exchanged this eve, Colonel, I admit to a keen interest in Miss King’s acquaintance and her opinions.”

  Colonel Fitzwilliam’s brow wrinkled. “I beg your pardon, Mrs. Bingley, but I am confused by your response. You appear to think Miss King is in possession of some information you wish to learn. Are your referring to Wickham’s murder?”

  “That may be the case, Colonel, but only because it is the topic all the guests are speaking of, with little mention of anything else.” Jane held his gaze. “What interests me is Miss King’s attempt to make her way in local society, same as I must do now that I am married and wish for acquaintances to view me in a different light. We share the need to make a good impression on local society, and that is all.”

  “I see,” the colonel acknowledged with a slight bow, “I will retreat to the library. Will you join me, Bingley?”

  As they watched Fitzwilliam walk toward Colonel Forester, Bingley lowered his head and spoke for Jane’s hearing alone. “That is not our only interest in Miss King, my dear, and I must admit I have rarely observed you use subtlety to this extent.”

  “Oh, pray do not think harshly of me, Charles, but I admit I feel protective of Miss King. I could not stand here and allow Colo
nel Fitzwilliam to assume the worst of her when all I have observed is her kind nature. Do not be vexed with me, husband.”

  “I could not, my dear, but now I fear I must follow the colonels and commence with this next review.”

  ***

  Increasingly agitated at the turn of events, Mary descended the stairs with a firm tread, but halfway to the bottom, a sense of caution slowed her steps. There was no way of knowing if the murderer still lurked in the shadows of this great house, or if that person had escaped into the night after killing Wickham. Nevertheless, whichever the case might be, proceeding at her clipped pace would be reckless if she cared for the safety of her person.

  When no shadows lurched out of the dim light on the lower stairs and the front hallway, Mary approached the door to the library. But try as hard as she might, she could not exert the effort to lift her hand to the brass handle and enter the room alone. Memory of Wickham’s enduring charm, and his body on the floor in a pool of blood, held her rigid.

  The night they first met at Mrs. Phillips’ social, she had been flattered when the most handsome man in attendance focused his attention on her. She was little Mary King, fresh from her country upbringing and unschooled in the ways an heiress should act. When he spoke to her, Wickham rested his gaze on her features, as if she were the only woman in existence. She knew there were other dancers on the floor, but her feet executed the steps of the dance without conscious effort on her part, and her heart thundered in her chest, leaving her breathless.

  By the end of the evening, the power of his charm coaxed her natural caution into silence, and the expression in his eyes held her spellbound. Chills chased along her nerves, even now, when she remembered how Wickham's request to call on her had overcome her natural reserve. Perhaps if her uncle’s legal advisor had not intervened, they might have married. But to what misery?

  Wickham’s interest in her proved to be only her inheritance and not her as person. That she first assumed he was as attracted to her as she was to him was proof of her poor judgment. In the past hour, Maggie’s words revealed the unhappiness she would have endured had she not broken their engagement.