Who Murdered Mr Wickham

by Carol Hutchens

  “Can you give an account of events after your sister arrived?”

  “There was nothing to cause interest, if that is what you are implying. Before we could exchange two words, Hurst came blundering down the path and accused Louisa of arranging to meet Wickham. Louisa and I left Hurst staggering around Wickham’s shadow and made a hasty retreat.”

  “Did Mr. Hurst have time to murder Mr. Wickham after you departed?”

  “What nonsense. Hurst was so far in his cups he could hardly stand. How could he move a body? And Louisa’s conscience stopped her departure, before we were halfway back to the house. She returned to fetch Mr. Hurst back inside, so I entered the house alone.”

  “Mrs. Hurst, when you returned to your husband, did you find Mr. Wickham free of harm?”

  “Of course, my husband had since departed, and Mr. Wickham was quite healthy.”

  Colonel Fitzwilliam paused to consider the gushing tone of Mrs. Hurst’s reply. Then he asked, “Did you immediately seek out your husband’s whereabouts?”

  Louisa blinked rapidly, then sent the colonel a catlike smile. “Really, Colonel, you must realize married women sometimes find themselves weak in the presence of such charm as Mr. Wickham possessed. Surely you are aware of such things, being a man in uniform.”

  “Ohoo! Why does she say such things about my husband?” Lydia wailed.

  “Mrs. Hurst, if you will please confine your comment to what occurred last evening? We are searching for a murderer. To the best of your knowledge, was Wickham alive and free of injury when you last saw him?”

  “Colonel, I assure you Mr. Wickham was in fine form when last I saw him.” Her words caused not a few snickers in response, as well as sniffs of disapproval.

  “This is not fair!” Lydia wailed amid gasps of shock and muffled comments. “Wickham was my husband. Why can she not chase after her own husband?”

  Colonel Fitzwilliam met Bingley’s distressed gaze, then turned his attention to the task at hand. “Mrs. Forester, I believe you enjoyed a close relationship with Mr. Wickham, as well.”

  “Now, see here, Fitzwilliam,” Colonel Forester roared.

  “Husband, I will respond to this, if you please.” Mrs. Forester glanced at her husband’s set expression, angled her chin, and turned a hard glare on Colonel Fitzwilliam. “Colonel, as wife of the commanding officer, it is my duty to associate with his men and assist in keeping morale up in these troubled times.”

  “Is this account written in some manual of wifely-duties, Mrs. Forester, or a goal of your own undertaking?”

  Lydia snickered, as did several other occupants of the room.

  “Really! Colonel, I am quite certain I have not a thought as to what you imply.”

  “Then perhaps I should speak bluntly.” Fitzwilliam met Colonel Forester’s furious glare and continued, “Mrs. Forester, exactly how well acquainted were you and Mr. Wickham?”

  “Well enough, sir, especially as he and Lydia were a special friends of mine.” Mrs. Forester lifted a shoulder. “For that reason, it is possible we spent more time in Mr. Wickham’s company than with other members of the regiment. But, of course, our association ended when Lydia and Wickham moved to a northern regiment.”

  “Do we have your word that this is a forthright description of your connection with Mr. Wickham?” Colonel Fitzwilliam demanded. As Mrs. Forester slowly tilted her head, Colonel Fitzwilliam turned to her husband. “Colonel Forester, are you in agreement with your wife’s portrayal of her dealings with Mr. Wickham?”

  “Of course, my wife gave an apt account of her relationship to Wickham. Now, Colonel, I suggest we question the real murderer and obtain details from Miss Brown.”

  “Colonel Fitzwilliam, I beg you to think again of this claim, before you make such a charge against my cousin.” Miss King’s eyes glowed green with emotion as she continued. “Maggie could never kill anyone, and especially not the father of her child.”

  Colonel Fitzwilliam studied Miss King in the sudden quiet that followed her words. Then, with a deep sigh, he straightened his shoulders and turned to his ward’s companion.

  “Miss Brown, were you angered by Mr. Wickham’s interest in your cousin after he had lured you into an indiscretion?” Colonel Fitzwilliam paused and then added, “Before you respond, I will state that most women I know would be extremely upset if they discovered the father of their child had plans to marry another woman.”

  Tears rolled down Miss Brown’s face as she turned a saddened glance on Miss King. “Much as I wish to deny it, the colonel speaks the truth, Mary. I was angry and hurt, but you never said an unkind word to me, even when I arrived at your door with a newborn child in my arms.” Miss Brown turned wide eyes on Colonel Fitzwilliam. “But I did not hurt him, Colonel. I could never harm Wickham or Mary. I told her nothing about the father of my child until she ended her betrothal to Wickham.”

  “If I understand the situation correctly, Miss Brown, you had other reasons to be envious of your cousin. Perhaps you wished to hurt her by forming the relationship with Wickham. Were you not vexed to discover she inherited a fortune? Did you wish to ruin her relationship with Wickham by claiming he was the father of your child?”

  “No! Colonel, I could not!”

  “Is it even true that Wickham fathered your child, Miss Brown?”

  Miss King gasped, outraged at the cruelty of the question, and whirled on Colonel Fitzwilliam ready to defend her cousin. “Colonel, how could—”

  “Hush, Mary,” Miss Brown said as she reached for Mary’s hand. Tears rolled down her cheeks as she looked in Mary’s eyes. “The colonel is right. I have been hiding the truth from you and I have suffered the pain of my dishonesty these past months. I beg you. Please do not be furious with me—”

  “You carried on an indiscretion with Mr. Wickham,” Caroline announced over Miss Brown’s halting confession, “for I discovered you snuggling in the hallway at Pemberley.”

  “It is true. I fell for Wickham’s charm, while he was trying to lead Miss Georgiana astray.” Miss Brown swallowed a sob and turned to her cousin. “How foolish is that, Mary? I tried to gain his favor, even then, but to no avail. Then you formed an attachment with him, and next I knew, you announced plans to marry him. You were going to marry the man I loved.”

  Not a whisper of sound disturbed the room, except for Miss Brown’s gasps for air.

  Mary pulled her hand from Maggie’s grip and leaned back to stare at her cousin in surprise. “But, what sense does this make? I had no knowledge of your feeling for him when I agreed to marry Mr. Wickham. Yet you had the child. How can you now claim it to be a lie?”

  “Oh, Mary, I am so sorry. But the lie is my claim of being a mother, for I was false with you from the start on that matter.” Miss Brown leaned close to force Miss King. “I planned not of this. Please believe me.”

  “But...how can this be, Maggie? How can I believe a word you say now?” Miss King stared out of a face pale as porcelain. “The child is under my roof even as we speak.”

  “Do you recall sending for me when your uncle fell ill? It was on the trip home that this all started. A young girl in the coach was heavy with child. When she fell into childbirth, being the only woman available, I had to assist in her delivery. It was a most difficult birth and the mother very young. Not long after birthing a healthy son, she died.” Miss Brown glanced down as she twisted her hands in her lap.

  “After assisting with the babe’s entry into the world, I felt a duty to the infant when his mother died. So I agreed to take the unwanted child when none of the other passengers wanted to help. On the journey home, I realized what I had done. I was unmarried and appearing with a babe would bring shame upon my head. It was then that I realized I now had found a way to force Wickham to turn his attention back to me.”

  “Maggie! How could you allow me to think you had committed such an indiscretion when none of it was true? And the poor babe? What is to become of him now that he is not needed in your ploy to captu
re Wickham’s interest?”

  “Did I not tell you?” Lydia cried. “I knew Wickham did not father another woman’s child.”

  “That is why I found you lounging about the library last evening?” Miss Bingley demanded. “You hoped to meet Wickham? But to what end as he already had a wife?”

  “I made no plan but to fill the time while Miss Georgiana was at the ball.” Miss Brown glanced toward Miss Darcy. “I asked permission to look for a book to read while she attended the party. The room was so warm, I curled up in that chair to read.” She pointed to a wingback chair on the far side of the room.

  “What is this nonsense?” Colonel Forester demanded. “Why should we listen to more of this drivel when the woman admitted, with her own words, that she lied?”

  “Even so, Colonel, we must discover what she knows.” Colonel Fitzwilliam turned and, asked in a low voice, “Miss Brown, what occurred next?”

  After only a slight hesitation, Miss King reached for Miss Brown’s hand and gave it a squeeze. The cousins exchanged a long glance.

  Then Miss Brown continued. “Miss Bingley came in and was quite disturbed at finding me in the room. After making her displeasure known to me, she left the room and I returned to reading my book, but I must have fallen asleep.”

  Mrs. Hurst made a loud sniff. “Any servant worth her salt would have taken leave of the room before Caroline finished speaking.”

  Colonel Fitzwilliam silenced Mrs. Hurst with a frown and said, “Miss Brown, please, continue.”

  Miss Brown’s voice quivered as she lifted her head and looked at the colonel. “A noise at the door alerted me that I was not alone. After the previous encounter, when my presence brought Miss Bingley’s ire upon my head, I remained quiet. Not that I felt I was doing anything wrong by reading in the library, but I was not eager to suffer another lecture. So I kept quiet in the warmth of the room and allowed the newcomer to do the same.”

  “Well, stop all this dithering, woman and tell us who came in,” Mrs. Bennet exclaimed.

  “I saw no one.” Miss Brown’s gaze was steady as she met the stares aimed in her direction.

  “How can that be?” Miss Bingley demanded. “When I entered, it was obvious you were aware of my presence. Perhaps this is another of your lies.”

  “Caroline, please—”

  “Stop the prattle and allow Miss Brown to speak.” Colonel Fitzwilliam’s command. Bingley’s protest was interrupted by

  “Colonel, it is as Miss Bingley suggested, I stayed out of sight behind the wing of the chair. But I heard footsteps cross the room toward that chair in the far corner.” Miss Brown pointed to the chair beside the table where Bingley had found the pipe. “I knew of the location because I had considered curling up in that comfortable looking chair when I arrived. But the shadows around the chair would not allow me to read and the chair I picked was comfortable.”

  “Your comfort is of no importance,” Lydia exclaimed. “Who came into the room?”

  “I saw no one. I stayed quiet and kept out of sight. After a time, I smelled the scent of pipe tobacco. Considering the heavy footsteps I heard earlier, I believed the other occupant was a man and felt I had even more reason to remain quiet. He remained silent, as well, and after observing how some guests behave at parties, I believed he must be waiting for a woman. So I filled the silence by trying to guess who he was, until finally, curiosity got the better of my good judgment. I peeped around the arm of the chair.”

  “All this blathering about nothing is very trying for my nerves.” Mrs. Bennet fanned her face with her handkerchief.

  “Wife, your nerves become active at the most inconvenient times. Do give them a rest and let the poor woman continue.”

  After aiming a glare at Mrs. Bennet, Colonel Fitzwilliam said, “Do continue, Miss Brown.”

  “The man was but a shadowy figure as he leaned back in the chair and smoked his pipe.”

  “What nonsense is this?” Colonel Forester exclaimed.

  Mrs. Forester sent her husband a warning glance, then turned to Miss Brown and demanded. “Were you not frightened at being closed in the room with a stranger, and so far from the guests?”

  “Indeed, I was. My heart was thudding so loudly I was certain he would hear. But I strained hard to view the man’s features so I might identify him if need be.”

  “Whatever did you expect?” Mrs. Hurst demanded. “That some man might take offense at you making free use of the house belonging your employer’s host?”

  Caroline Bingley sniffed. “I am of the opinion that servants should stay in their rightful place.”

  “What place do you refer to, Miss Bingley?” Lizzy demanded. “Miss Brown secured permission to use the books in this room.”

  “Miss Brown is my sister’s companion and in no way considered a servant.” Mr. Darcy’s voice rang with a finality that told all within hearing the matter was not to receive mention again. After a pause, while he stared at each guest in turn, Mr. Darcy turned to Miss Brown. “Please continue.”

  “I was interested in seeing only a man I knew. My cousin was certain Wickham would be a guest at this event. So I made an effort to see through the shadows and smoke to discover if this might be him. Though, I confess I had little hope, for I did not recall ever seeing him smoke a pipe.”

  “I cannot bear to hear more of this nonsense,” Lydia wailed. “She has no right to speak of my husband in that familiar manner.”

  “I agree with Mrs. Wickham, for once.” Colonel Forester’s voice rang loudly in the room. “Why waste time listening to a woman who is most likely the murderer? I say we turn her over to the magistrate and be done with this madness.”

  Colonel Fitzwilliam ignored the interruption and returned his attention to Miss Brown. “Was Mr. Wickham the man you observed?”

  “Much to my sorrow, it was not. When the man leaned forward to put his pipe on the table, his features were easily visible.”

  “Who was it? Stop your blathering and speak.” Mrs. Bennet said.

  Colonel Fitzwilliam took a step closer. “Miss Brown, please continue.”

  “The man was a stranger to me. Since it was not Wickham, I leaned back in my chair, out of his view, and mulled over my disappointment.” Miss Brown cleared her throat. “Why had I expected the man I wanted most to meet would be easy to make contact with? In my world, men take advantage of women who seek employment to support themselves. There is only a meeting between them if that is what the man wishes. I learned this to be true, to my sorrow, and yet I hoped things would be different if only I could speak with Mr. Wickham.”

  “A load of poppycock and empty hopes, if you ask me,” Mrs. Hurst tossed her head. “Had you not put yourself forward in such a manner, this would never have happened.”

  “Are you giving a lesson in morals, Mrs. Hurst?” Lizzy demanded. “Can you forget the lecture and allow the identity of the murder to be disclosed?”

  Mrs. Hurst tossed her head with an energy promising ill for someone in the near future, but Lizzy ignored her and turned to Miss Brown. “Please do continue, Miss Brown.”

  “There is no proof this man is guilty,” Colonel Forester insisted before Miss Brown could open her mouth to speak.

  “All the more reason for us to hear what Miss Brown has to say, do you not agree, Colonel?” Fitzwilliam returned his attention to Miss Darcy’s companion. “Please continue, Miss Brown.”

  “With the warmth of the room, and the need to remain quiet, I must have drifted off to sleep, for the next thing I recall is the sound of the door opening. The noise must have startled me awake and then I heard someone enter the room. At first, I thought it was the man with the pipe leaving. Then I heard a man speak.”

  “Was it Wickham? Who was he speaking to?” Lydia slipped to the edge of her seat. “Or was it you who murdered my husband?”

  “I am not the murderer, Mrs. Wickham, but it was Wickham who entered the room. I know for I would recognize his voice anywhere.”

  “What di
d he say?” Mrs. Bennet demanded.

  Miss Brown blinked rapidly. He said, ‘So, you are waiting in the dark for me?’ and my heart almost stopped. The sound of his voice and his casual tone sent shivers over my body. You see, I recalled his expert use of his voice, as he charmed me into doing his will.” Miss Brown stared at Colonel Fitzwilliam with a plea in her eyes. “W-when I first heard him speak, I thought…I hoped with all my heart…he was speaking to me. That somehow he had discovered my hiding place and come to find me.”

  “No, he would never—”

  “Oh, really, this is too much. Stop the hysterical details and speak of what happened next.” Miss Bingley’s voice rose over Lydia’s broken voice.

  Colonel Fitzwilliam eyed the two women for a heartbeat, then sent Miss Brown a reassuring nod to continue.

  Miss Brown drew a shuddering breath, making a visible effort to pull herself together as she continued. “The man with the pipe said, ‘If I am, I have had a long wait. And judging from the twigs attached to your uniform, I would hazard to guess you have not suffered the cold night air, all alone.’”

  “Why does she speak of such things about my Wickham?” Lydia demanded in a tone heavy with emotion, but all eyes in the room were focused on Miss Brown.

  Voice lowered, Colonel Fitzwilliam urged her to continue. “What did you hear next, Miss Brown?”

  “Mr. Wickham said, ‘No, sir, I have not.’ And he laughed.”

  “Is that when you murdered him?” Colonel Forester demanded.

  “Colonel, please allow Miss Brown to finish before you rush to a conclusion.” Colonel Fitzwilliam turned a kind glance on Miss Brown. “How did you feel after hearing Mr. Wickham admit he had conducted a liaison in the garden with another woman? Were you vexed?”

  “I suppose I should have been—”

  “Why? Wickham was not your husband. He was mine, and my Wickham did not meet another woman in the garden. I know he would not—”

  “Hush, child,” Mr. Bennet said with all the compassion of a father wanting to ease his daughter’s pain. “Best to hear all that happened and be done with the pain.”