Who Murdered Mr Wickham

by Carol Hutchens

  How could she justify such poor judgment? Could she credit her inexperience and youth, or must she accept that she could not give a good estimation of another person’s character? In truth, Maggie’s revelations left her mind reeling with all she might have faced, and the worst was not Wickham’s betrayal of her emotions. He had known her but for a few weeks and acted as any poor young man, of a handsome countenance and empty pockets, might have done upon learning of her wealth. It was not that she excused his behavior, but, rather, she understood his actions.

  What she could not understand or justify was the behavior of her cousin.

  Mary stood with her back against the wall and shifted her weight from one foot to the other. As she waited for the colonels to come down to the library, she tried to examine her emotions. If she had fallen under Wickham’s spell, would she have reacted as Maggie had? Or was Maggie right, and she had never loved him at all?

  Maggie insisted Mary had not, or she would never have sent him away. Still, Mary could not believe she would have acted as Maggie had done. She could not imagine continuing an affair with her cousin’s future husband. Yet Maggie had done just that. What troubled Mary even more, and made matters worse, Maggie admitted some of her encounters with Wickham occurred under Mary own roof.

  Mary twisted her hands as memories filled her head. While she had acted the proper young lady, and kept her distance from her promised husband, Maggie had given her all to a charmer like Wickham. Yet Mary could not hold back the question burning in her head. Did she lack the qualities needed to hold a man’s attentions? Was she less of a woman for keeping control of her emotions, in her efforts to protect all she held dear? Was she cold hearted and uncaring? Was Maggie weak and immoral?

  Then again, why place blame. They were both victims of a master charmer, but did it matter, now that Wickham was dead?

  Mary tapped her toe on the floor and gazed about the rays of light beginning to brighten the hallway. Dull clangs and thuds told of activity in the distant kitchen. The scent of cooked meat hung heavy in the air. That odor and the fear that she was misguided in her protection of Maggie made her stomach roil.

  She could not accept that Maggie had wronged her, even after learning of the affair with Wickham. If Mary had married him, she had no doubt he would have continued with Maggie and any other willing female in his path. That fact exposed Maggie’s weakness and confirmed Mary’s opinion that Wickham had not changed since their arrangement had ended.

  Instead of holding on to her sadness over Maggie’s betrayal, she should examine others who might have fallen victim to Wickham’s charm. She might discover the murderer. Before she could pursue that thought further, the colonels came down the stairs, followed closely by Mr. Bingley.

  Colonel Fitzwilliam opened the door and motioned for her to enter. “Miss King, please forgive our delay.”

  Mary paused inside the door, allowing Colonel Forester to proceed farther into the room, before she moved to sit in a chair facing away from the bloodstain on the floor. Despite the passing hours, the air hung heavy with the scent of decay and the sickening odor of blood.

  It would be a wonder indeed, if she kept her mind on questions, while remembering events that occurred just feet away this very night. Except now it was morning, and the sun’s rays were shining through the windows to add light to the room. Yet the passing of hours meant little as thoughts of Wickham’s murder were still fresh in her mind.

  “Miss King, we regret the need to trouble you yet again, but your actions in the ballroom have not gone unnoticed.” Colonel Fitzwilliam said as he stood several feet away and waited for her response.

  Mary stared at each of the three men, two in uniform and as different as night and day, and Mr. Bingley, the most pleasant of them all and possibly her cohort in trying to solve this crime. “Ask what you will, gentlemen, for it is of no bother. Yet I must admit I am puzzled as to what actions you refer to with such a statement.”

  “Your constant efforts to associate with Miss Brown makes us question why you would do so, Miss King.” Colonel Forester’s lack of patience was evident in his sharp tone.

  “Colonel, you must forgive me for saying so, but since this event occurred you seem focused on insulting my character, and I am at my wits end as to the reason that would be so.” Mary flung out her hand. “I was a target for a woman distressed by news of her husband's death, as were you, but you continue to question my integrity. Even after I explained earlier that I was only offering comfort to Miss Brown, you still doubt my word.

  “Miss Darcy thanked me for relieving her from the stress of dealing with Miss Brown’s anguish, but you appear to think I am guilty of some crime.” Mary stared at the shocked expressions on the men’s faces as she paused for breath.

  “Well, here is one more point you can claim I am guilty of, if you wish.” She watched as if observing of a play, as the men all but leaned closer to hear what she might say. “I have a deep concern for Miss Brown’s welfare because she is my cousin.”

  Their gasps told her all she needed to know about the weight of her admission.

  Colonel Forester’s face turned beet red, as he stood in front of the fireplace, staring down at her. Standing at the end of the sofa across from where she sat, Colonel Fitzwilliam merely arched his brow. Mr. Bingley could not keep his surprise from showing on his expressive face.

  Watching them, Mary drew in a deep breath and wondered what would happen next.

  Colonel Fitzwilliam was the first to recover. “Miss King, I am most appreciative of your efforts to take some of the worry from my ward. Miss Darcy is quite fond of Miss Brown, but she is young and inexperienced at handling situations such as this.”

  “Colonel, can you not see this information adds to the possibility that Miss King may indeed be guilty of the crime, and with Miss Brown’s assistance?” Colonel Forester rocked on his heels as he delivered the words in a satisfied tone.

  “Colonel—”

  “Explain yourself, Colonel,” Colonel Fitzwilliam spoke over Bingley’s protest.

  “As you said yourself, Colonel, one small woman would have difficulty overtaking a man of Wickham’s size. However, now we have two females. Together they could overpower a man and stab him.”

  “Really, Colonel, that is hardly believable,” Mr. Bingley protested.

  “Why conceal the fact that Miss Brown is your cousin, Miss King?” Colonel Fitzwilliam asked in a mild tone.

  “Think about our situations, Colonel.” Mary turned to face Fitzwilliam as she twisted her fingers in the folds of her gown. “My cousin insists on providing for herself, regardless of my new-found wealth. It is a matter of pride for her, and, while I admire her determination and respect her wishes, it would never do for our relationship to become public knowledge. People in this social circle would not understand, and trust me, it is difficult enough to gain acceptance in society without making it common knowledge that my cousin is a servant in Mr. Darcy’s household.” Mary stressed her words, knowing she might embarrass him, but she was desperate to clear her name.

  “Mr. Darcy does not consider Miss Brown a servant.”

  “Perhaps Mr. Darcy is more open-minded than some other members of society. Still, Maggie wished our connection to remain a secret once we discovered we would both be attending this event.” Mary waited, expecting another claim against her character.

  “I say, this still does not ring true—”

  “Colonel, I do not share your objection.” Colonel Fitzwilliam’s commanding tone left no doubt of his opinion.

  “Now, see here, Fitzwilliam—”

  “Enough, Colonel Forester. This constant casting of blame and chasing false leads has lasted the entire night, and still we are no closer to learning who murdered Wickham. It is time we stopped harassing helpless females and completed the job we were ask to do.” Fitzwilliam turned to Bingley. “How do you stand on this, Bingley? You have heard all when we were questioning your guests.”

  Bingley step
ped forward, “I must agree with you, Colonel. I fear we have exhausted our leads in this issue.”

  Colonel Fitzwilliam stared at his counterpart for a long minute. Finally, Colonel Forester gave a sharp nod of his head and tucked his chin into his chest. Colonel Fitzwilliam turned to Mary. “Miss King, please accept our apologies for any humiliation we might have caused you on this occasion. I believe we all agree you are free of any suspicion in Mr. Wickham’s murder.”

  Chapter 19

  Bingley returned to the library with Mr. Bennet, Sir William, and Mr. Darcy. As they sat in chairs facing the fireplace, where the two colonels were standing, Colonel Forester said, “The news is not to our liking, gentlemen. We have no suggestion as to who committed this murder.”

  The new arrivals exchanged looks, shifted in their chairs, and studied the two officers with stares registering their displeasure.

  “Not even a suspicion after hours spent with questioning guests?” Mr. Darcy’s tone was mild, but his was intense.

  “The situation is not as simple as you might suppose, Darcy.” Colonel Fitzwilliam’s use of Darcy’s name showed his irritation after a night of wasted efforts. “We spoke with all who were acquainted with Wickham and found nothing.”

  “Um, yes, well, that is often the case when a crime is committed—”

  “Yes, yes, Sir William, but this is a contained crime.” Mr. Bennet interrupted before his friend could begin a long-winded speech as was his habit. “The murder happened under this roof and the guests were in this house. This is not some crime on the street.”

  “Still, there are limitations.” Colonel Forester insisted. “We have only the weapon, not a reason for such a crime. We have agreed that our inquiry proves a stranger committed this crime.”

  “Such a possibility is not acceptable,” Mr. Bennet’s ire was obvious by his raised voice.

  Bingley had not heard his father-in-law speak in anger since meeting him. And from the expression on Darcy’s face as he stared at Mr. Bennet, Bingley concluded Darcy, too, showed disbelief at Mr. Bennet’s firm tone.

  “Be that as it may,” Sir William blustered, “we must accept the facts. These gentlemen have done as we requested. If they found no cause to name the killer then I believe we must conclude the murderer is not one of the guests.”

  “Nonsense, how can that be?” demanded Mr. Bennet. Despite their surprise at his insistence, it was obvious he had more emotional involvement in this crime than anyone in the room. With Wickham’s murder, Mr. Bennet now had an extra female to provide for rather than just the two daughters still unmarried.

  “Mr. Bennet, you were not in this room to suffer through the long hours of questioning.” Colonel Forester’s tone failed to hide his contempt for the objections. “You gentlemen sit there and condemn our failure, but you experienced none of the unpleasantness we faced this night.”

  “Have you not come face to face with enemies on the battlefield, Colonel Forester? Then do explain how the search for a murderer could be more difficult.” Mr. Darcy rested against the back of his chair as he waited for Colonel Forester to respond.

  The room went silent. Even the small blaze left in the fireplace emitted not a crackle or pop to disturb the tension filling the room.

  “The blame lies outside this room, I believe—”

  “Quite correct, Mr. Bingley,” quick to back up Bingley’s defense of their efforts, Colonel Fitzwilliam bowed to Bingley as he continued, “we have done all than we can—”

  “You did not identify the murderer.” Mr. Bennet’s firm tone filled the room.

  “Not all is lost.” As soon as the words tumbled out his mouth, Bingley regretted speaking. Jane had her own reasons for wanting this crime solved quickly. He understood those reasons, but these men would not. Even Mr. Bennet, her own father, would not understand Jane’s need to prove she was worthy of being his wife. Now, with a few careless words, he might have exposed her unease to others and he doubted she would forgive him for the betrayal.

  “What is this nonsense you speak, Bingley? Have you not heard all the interviews and agreed we found nothing?” Colonel Forester demanded.

  “Indeed, I have heard all, but there are other sources of information we should consider.” Reluctantly, considering the disquieted atmosphere of the room, Bingley disclosed the fact that he and Jane had tried to discover evidence on their own.

  “My wife and I have a keen interest in solving this crime, both for her sister's sake and because it occurred in our home. As host of the ball, Jane was in a position to move about and converse with guests. She hoped to discover some detail that would assist in solving the murder.”

  “I say, Bingley, pray explain why Mrs. Bingley thought to intrude on conversations of her guests in such a manner.” Colonel Forester demanded. “I would expect any hostess to be far too distracted in seeing to her guests to have the time to listen to their conversations in such an underhanded manner.”

  “I consider Mrs. Bingley’s actions anything but underhanded, Colonel.” Mr. Darcy’s voice rang with authority as he stared at Forester. “In fact, Charles, I find your course of action exceptionally clever.”

  “As the matter concerns Jane’s family and mine, we considered it our duty to try to help.” Bingley explained after receiving the nod of approval from Mr. Darcy.

  “Then by all means, tell us what have you discovered?” Colonel Forester’s tone barely concealed his disapproval of their actions.

  Bingley paused for some length before admitting, “Not a great deal, I fear. After keen observation, we found no indication that anyone at the ball smokes a pipe.” Everyone in the room turned to stare at the table where the pipe was found. “However, we discovered another guest was also making attempts to uncover the identity of the killer.”

  After much discussion, following Bingley’s disclosure, the men agreed they should again request Miss King’s presence in the library. But this time they wanted to ask for her assistance in this matter, rather than blame her for the crime.

  ***

  “Please, do take a seat, Miss King.” Colonel Fitzwilliam said as she entered the library. All eyes turned on her, as Miss King selected the wing-backed chair nearest the door, and not a breath escaped until Colonel Fitzwilliam continued. “Mr. Bingley has informed us of your attempts to clear your name. I understand you made an effort to collect evidence to that end, and we need to inquire as to any progress you made.”

  Mary studied the faces around her as she considered how she should reply. She could not reveal Maggie’s private details for fear of harming her cousin. Deep in her heart she was certain Maggie would never harm Wickham. With her lips sealed on that information, all she could speak of was what she had observed with her own eyes. “When I returned from the garden with Captain Carter, we saw Miss Bingley slip out of the library.”

  “That is not possible. Caroline—”

  “Not so fast, Bingley,” Colonel Fitzwilliam commanded. “I recall Captain Carter making mention of this detail when we quested him earlier. We must reconsider all facts as we do not know the exact time Wickham was murdered. Miss King, please continue.”

  “I can tell you no more than what I saw.”

  “Perhaps you know more than you are aware of, Miss King,” Colonel Fitzwilliam said in a thoughtful tone. “Why, for instance, do you use the word ‘slip’ to describe how Miss Bingley left the library? Did she act as if she had some reason for not wanting to be observed?”

  Sending Mr. Bingley a contrite glance, Miss King replied. “Not as I recall, Colonel. In fact, I am quite certain she was in a temper.”

  “Are you implying she was displeased for some reason? To say you saw her slip out of the room implies she moved quietly, as if wishing to be unseen. Now you say she was in a temper. Explain yourself.” Colonel Forester demanded.

  “From the way Miss Bingley stomped up the stairs, Colonel, I would describe her as being in a temper.” Chin lifted high, Miss King stared at Colonel Forester. “But wh
en she came out of the library, she closed the door softly. I can only assume she did not care for other occupants of the room to know of her agitation.”

  “Who was in the library, Miss King? This is the first mention you have made to another occupant.”

  No one in the room made a sound as they waited for her response to Colonel Forester’s question. The colonels and Bingley knew the answer from questioning Miss Brown, but this moment concerned what Miss King knew.

  “I have no knowledge of that fact to share with you, Colonel. Miss Bingley closed the door. I could see nothing, and as Captain Carter and I were chilled, we continued up the stairs at a discrete distance behind Miss Bingley.”

  “You did not consider stopping in the library to warm your hands by the fire?”

  “Indeed not, Colonel. As you might recall, I am a guest in this house. I knew nothing of a warm fire in this room. But I was well aware of the warmth in the ballroom.”

  “Miss King, we were led to believe you have information that might assist us to catch the person who murdered Mr. Wickham.” Colonel Forester snapped.

  “I fear I have no answers, Colonel, only more questions. Perhaps you should speak with Miss Bingley if you wish to learn more.”

  “Why did she say that?” Bingley demanded of Darcy as the door closed on Miss King’s hasty exit.

  “I know not, Charles, but we must assume your sister is in possession of some detail we need. Bring her quickly. Let this be done before full day,” Darcy said in a low tone.

  ***

  Caroline Bingley entered the library with the air of a queen bestowing favor on her lowly subjects. With a calm glance at the waiting audience, she said, “Ah, Darcy, I wondered where you had disappeared to.”

  “Miss Bingley,” Colonel Forester spoke with authority, “we are not here to be sociable. This is a matter of grave concern. Someone murdered Mr. Wickham in this room, and you were observed leaving the room, about the time we believe the crime occurred. Therefore, I will speak bluntly. Did you murder Mr. Wickham?”